White Flag

I have not posted a blog in some time – other than the Wordle League table – and this may not change any time soon. Since I hit the zero birthday in February everything has come to a stop, not that things were zooming along anyway.

I look back on not a life but an existence. There was a tweet yesterday about significant moments in life and it mentioned graduating, marriage and the birth of children. I have been through none of these, nor any other significant moments or what I call life affirming stages. That is why I feel I have never grown up and like a much younger person trapped in an older body.

Lacking energy and enthusiasm on top of tiredness and back pain, things are not good. On a suggestion from my line manager at work I looked into therapy. The facility we have available through the office advised me, after an assessment, that they could not help me as I needed long term therapy. I have had CBT before when diagnosed as clinically depressed and this did not work for me, so they told me about talking therapy. In the end I started counselling a few weeks ago but after three sessions I knocked it on the head because just recounting my life to someone else is not going to fix things. It might be a cathartic process from someone who has stuff bottled up that has never come out, but I have brought it all out before, although more enhanced now I suppose because of the focus of the birthday.

To summarise my existence:

  • Never been married.
  • Never had a proper girlfriend.
  • No children obviously.
  • I was the 45 year old virgin.
  • Never heard those three little words.
  • Diagnosed with high blood pressure in 2014.
  • Diagnosed with arteriosclerosis (hardening arteries) in 2015.
  • Spend 100% of my time alone.
  • Never ever been happy.

My birthday was looming for a long time. A birthday means another year gone, but a zero birthday is another ten years gone. And nothing to show for it. This time it is the end. I tried to explain it to the counsellor. It feels like subconsciously I have now given up.

I only ever wanted two things. (Three, if you include wanting to be a footballer which was a dream squashed when I was 11. My dad came back from parents evening in my last year at primary school and said I had no chance.) Firstly, I wanted to be a famous writer and I started on this journey at 18 and still have not made it. Some readers have seen something to like in my work but not the traditional publishing industry. Secondly, I wanted to meet my other half, which has never happened either. Rejection all around. It has all been one epic fail.

The counsellor asked me a question in one of the sessions. What is the magic bullet – she didn’t use the word ‘bullet’ but I cannot recall what it was. Essentially, if I went to bed and woke up the next day to everything being perfect what would have happened. I basically told her that only one of three things could change anything.

  • I meet someone.
  • My books take off.
  • I win the lottery.

The sad thing is that the one with the best chance of happening is winning the lottery.

I am fed up fighting for things I will not achieve now. I surrender to the meaningless existence fate has given me.