Giving Up

I wish I had something that I could give up on.

A strange wish, I know. But I’ve been struggling a lot these past weeks. Now more than ever, I’ve been looking for a reason to stick around, something to hold onto. Something that I didn’t want to ‘give up’ on. And its been hard to find something. I’ve even started asking friends and family what they believed the reason for living was.

I got a few different answers, each highlighting what each person valued as important to life.

Work. Or finding a purpose. Something along those lines was a popular one. It can be encouraging to some. Especially, to those who had a successful job or for those who do something meaningful like help the poor. Not so much for me…or someone not knowing at all what their purpose was in life. I clean other peoples shit. Literally. Not exactly something I feel called to do. So I can give up on that easily.

What about school? Some find meaning learning. I’m stuck. I don’t know where to go from here. Honestly, I feel its a waste of time, like I’m spinning my wheels. I need a direction. Taking random classes here and there just isn’t doing it for me. Especially, when it feels like I’m wasting time and resources. I don’t have many options. Community Colleges are the only way I can afford to go to school.

Another big one was relationships, more toward the romantic variation. Honestly, this is where I tended to zone out when people started talking about it. I’ve never dated, had sex, or kissed , let alone had anyone romantic say anything along the lines of ‘You’re pretty’ or ‘I love you’. Not once. And I’m in my mid-twenties. I’ve got about five years before I might as well die a virgin. Sure, love and sex isn’t everything but when It’s constantly in your face on social media, TV and magazines, it really seams like I’m the odd one out.

Friends and family was also a biggie. Let me back-peddle a bit. I lost my Dad when I was nine. For whatever reason, I just clicked with him more than my mom when I was a kid. When he died, so did a huge part of me. Sure, I love my Mom and Brother but as the oldest I feel an added pressure to take care of my family. I had my whole life for me planned out when I was nine, right after Dad died: School, graduate, job, career, buy a home, take care of the family. Looking at the previous paragraphs, I feel like I’ve failed at nearly, if not all of those things. So in my mind, while sure it would suck, I fell my family would be better without me. It wasn’t like I was of much use anyway. Given time, they’d be more than fine without me. Life keeps moving on.

There was religion. Something about our life here preparing us for the afterlife. (Honestly, I was super confused about that one…actually, I still am…) My personal beliefs? Life’s suffering only seems to prepare us for more suffering. I do believe that there’s a place where we go when we die that’s a heck of a lot better than here. There are no expectations or pressures. Our roles are laid out for us. There’s no love, at least not in the sense that we do here. We all just kinda love each other, like a love one has for a sibling. Most importantly, we get to see the people we’ve lost.

To summarize: When we die there’s no pain, no suffering. No pressure to preform, no need to get good grades in order to get into the college you want. No race to find the perfect job. No need to earn enough to buy a house so your aging mother has a place to stay because there is no way you are putting her in a nursing home. No depression. No more injuries. The end of decay. And the cherry on top of the sunday is that I get to see my Dad again?

I’m having a hard time seeing a downside.

Believe me: I wan’t to find a downside. I wan’t to find something that I don’t want to give up on. I want, need, something to hold onto with both hands and not let go.

But I haven’t

And that scares me.