Floating in Space

So to start, I apologise for the rather cryptic title of this week’s ramble. This week for me has been a roller coaster of sorts, my brain constantly spiralling down towards the black hole that is a mental health related slump. I’ve been unproductive and had a collection of the classic “ye olde existential crisis” moments. Apparently the meaning of life is “42”. I mean, I’ve completely accepted “The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy” as my existential point of reference for the big picture, but what about the little picture, the day to day stuff?

It’s no secret that I’ve had recurring encounters with depression and anxiety over my relatively short existence. Some days I feel like I can get up and go outside, and other days I lie awake and feel nothing at all, wishing that I could go to the sanctuary of sleep for a while. Other times it takes me HOURS to arouse myself from the safety of slumber. I constantly overanalyse every single thing I’ve said and fret over it, thinking I’ve somehow offended a stranger by an off-hand comment. I get anxious about people asking me what I’m going to do with my life, when I have absolutely no clue where I even want to end up in the universe. Sometimes I feel that there’s a cloud over my head, and that to do anything requires an ungodly amount of effort. Sometimes I wake up and feel like the biggest waste of space. Other days I wake up channeling an inner Wonder Woman and feel ready to take on the world. My mind is a roller coaster, a vortex of mixed emotions and desires, simply chaos and mayhem.

Why am I writing about this? I guess I’m in a slight creative slump and know that I usually tend to process things better when I’m writing stuff down. I’ve always had an interest in space and stars, even though I know basically nothing about astronomy or physics. I guess it always just blows my mind when I think about how we’re just clinging to the surface of this planet, hurtling through space without even realising we’re basically holding on by the combination of two feet and the kindness of gravity. Of course when you start thinking about this stuff in depth you realise how insignificant we are in the universe… I also start questioning if I watch way too much Doctor Who. Okay, who am I kidding, you can never have too much Doctor Who and that’s a hill I’m willing to die on. So back to feeling insignificant in this insane universe that seems to make no sense.

I’m sure I’m not alone in feeling this way. And usually mixed with anxiety and other delightful chemical cocktails in the brain… it’s not usually a nice time. At this stage I’ve just been taking things (in the words of my badass grandmother) simply one day at a time. My hope is that one day I’ll wake up and things won’t be quite so dark. But in terms of why I exist? I don’t think anyone is really meant to know why we’re here or what our purpose is. I think it’s more of a case of showing kindness to everyone and everything, and sharing experiences that teach us things and help us grow. Growing up, you always have this idea that maybe one day, you will be famous and be able to change the world as we know it into something better singlehandedly.

As I’ve gotten older (and don’t get me wrong, I know I still have a long way to go), I’ve come to the conclusion that making our existence meaningful is by being in the presence of other people. Amazing things are achieved by groups of people with an idea. And whilst we may not have a superpower, or be able to reverse global warming with a snap of a finger or be able to end world hunger with one conversation, I feel that ultimately if we treat each other with kindness and show love to each other we’ll be on the right path. Also mental health research shows that your chances of recovering are significantly higher if you make that journey with the people you trust most by your side. So while we hurtle through space at ungodly speeds, contemplate why we ended up where we are in the great lottery that is life, I think that existing to share your life with other people is the point of it all.

But in saying that I still consider myself to be an introvert, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to return to my designated anti-social time before heading back outside. Also it’s raining, so I’m staying right here, wrapped in my blanket, wearing fox socks and playing the Sims (The only place I can pretend I’ll ever own my own house…HA!!) until the sun comes out again. And, of course, I’ll probably continue to over analyse every social move I make because my brain enjoys that for some reason!



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