EPTThis is going to be nothing but a tired rant, however redundant of a forewarning this may be.
Just after my entry on perspective towards the end of November, I made a promise to myself. I would push death out of my mind whenever possible instead of dwell on it, and if it came, I would challenge myself as never before to find acceptance in my beliefs. No more entries to be made on the subject, no more wallowing in fear. I was tired of it being one of my prominent defining characteristics to those even in my real life. I do not want to be defined as a person living in pain and intense fear. That is not who I want to be at all.
This was not easy at all, as it was more or less met with the same excruciatingly powerful fears as I've always had. I kept to my promise not to dwell and to challenge when such arose, but it was the same losing battle I've been having for what has been essentially all of my life.
About a month ago, I began taking Zoloft as an anti-anxiety treatment. Over the past two weeks, my sleep schedule had evened out; instead of rising and waking whenever I could, I was in bed between 10pm-1am and awake by 6am-9am every. single. day. For literally the first time that I could recall, I had an even sleeping and waking schedule. The frequency of my panic attacks dropped dramatically, and though I made no progress in coming to peace with the finality of death, I at least had an uninterruptedly good time.
As the end of this week came, I began probing a bit more forcefully at this elusive acceptance. As a result, my panic attacks have risen back to their usual heights, and my sleeping pattern has been renewly shattered.
I've learned over the past few days that it's not entirely the enormity of death's finality that is holding me back from coming to peace. Part of me is really, honestly scared to let go of what I view as true value of life, being existence without cession. Though scared isn't quite the right word. It is boiling rage, slick fear, and a passion that has been in me for so long that it has become a hated, but integrated part of my thought process. I'm at a mental paradox, even though I know my feelings in both matters are true; I accept that I am one day going to be no more, yet at the same time I am constantly resisting it. I hope I find my peace, but until I can give up wanting what I view as true value in life, I cannot see how this will be possible.
I am the ant against the sumo, the leaf against the tornado, the Zephyr against the Rekrul.
The hope is there, but it will require one hell of a lucky streak.
