Foolish

You know that naive hope- that moment that you believe in signs, or a “little gifts from the universe,” that glimmer of chance that, things will all “fall into place,” —you are not only stupid enough to believe, but to repeat aloud to others, but then, when a stroke of news confirms that once again things will continue to “all fall apart” instead of “fall into place,” and not only do you have to cope with the disappointment of another lost opportunity or chance of redemption, but the shame for ever having felt hopeful, and worst of all, vocalizing that hope to others?

They say my depression lies. They say that I put too much weight on the bad, and I can’t see the good, they say, others envy my life and see my trajectory as successful, even inspirational, when I see myself having fallen backwards into an abyss of worthlessness. They say I need to count my blessings, say my positive affirmations, to just keep keepin it on because at the end of the rainbow there is a pot of gold, if only I just keep trying, if i keep persevering, if i keep pushing, I’ll get there.

Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me, fool me over and over with hope and triumphant narrative arcs, and healing pathways towards freedom from pain, physical and mental — I am the greatest fool that ever was. I am so incredibly foolish, I want to smack myself across the face.

Who will rescue me in the end? What will rescue me? How do I prevail? Will my fancy degree, and intelligence, and compassion and human connections — do they shine, do they let me rise? These are extremely fallible things regularly, even more so in hard times, they’ve failed me so many times and faith in any of them feels foolish. Do they even at bare minimum help guarantee to provide me an income to secure a stable home, access to medical care, and nourishment for my body and soul? Why should I trust in my so-called skills? Why should i have faith in my so-called privilege? I can celebrate generosity of friends but i don’t dare depend on anyone, very least my family, as insurance to get me through this life.

Last week a random act of kindness with a real live human being walked me back of the plank I was inching forward on… i even thought I was gradually turning a corner, I hoped. I foolishly hoped. Disappointment’s a fool’s game.

Some people give up, they lose motivation, they become paralyzed by the depression, they stop trying. Others tell me they admire my resilience, how even in worst of circumstances, I am always proactive. But I feel foolish. I admire those whose despair have made them dead inside, b/c when you don’t try, you have nothing to hope for, and if you have nothing to hope for than you don’t feel disappointed, and than you don’t have to be the poor poor pitied fool.