Insomnia Files #5
It’s been 3 weeks of solitary training and living, with each day bound up in working and trying to fit in double training sessions. Time has been flying past and training has been going well. As part of the process of making peace with myself, I’ve been trying to be comfortable with all aspects of my life, and to take better care of myself. I’ve stopped fighting my natural genetics in trying to stay stick-thin. After weeks of clean eating and high volume training, I’ve assumed my natural athletic build – the slightly broader shoulders, muscular arms and abs – all of which I used to hate (and I know many would hate me for saying that). Staying off meat and dairy has helped tremendously in getting leaner, and maybe without all the added hormones in meat, I’m in less depressive moods these days. Being alone so much of the time was a risk that I took, for I knew that it was so easy to lapse into self-pity and depressing loneliness. And yet I needed the challenge: to prove to myself that I could be comfortable spending time with myself, and be comfortable with who I am and what I am. I can’t say that I am much happier, but I am less unhappy. I’ve learnt to be thankful for the little things that go right – I’m running, swimming and cycling better than ever, I’m finding small joys in the work that I’m doing, and making new friends along the way. Finding peace within oneself is a ongoing process, and like perfection, it can never be truly attained – you can only strive to get as close as you can to it. For life is made up of cycles, where there are periods of contentment and satisfaction, after which comes dissatisfaction and discontent, followed by a period of searching for that equilibrium again. It is only through such turbulence where we grow as individuals and learn about ourselves and the world around us. It is only through the unhappiness and emptiness where we derive some sort of drive and motivation to seek out a better way of living our lives. It is upon realizing this that you truly appreciate what it means when they say, it is not the destination (for there is none) but the journey that matters.
Another public holiday, another day to hate, for it is too much like a weekend. The days have been getting worse, I get seized by panic attacks, or I simply break down. But no one’s ever there, and no one really knows how it’s like. I reply text messages cheerfully, but no one knows that I’m lying in bed, face in my pillow sobbing uncontrollably. I go out for a walk, hanging on to the stupid belief that leaving an empty house would make me feel better. But being surrounded by happy strangers who are out with their friends and family kills that belief, and makes one feel lonelier than ever. Sometimes I surprise myself for still hanging on to the hope that things will get better, or that the company that someone promised you would eventually happen. But no, no one’s there at your lowest, they’re just there whenever’s convenient for them. Sometimes people make off-handed remarks or suggestions, and it kindles a small hope in you. I’ve learnt today that you should immediately extinguish that. Stay strong, I tell myself. Dry your tears because there is no use for them. Keep your heart guarded, because otherwise somebody is going to come along and break it.
