
This is Blue. Smokey Blue. I adopted him back in November and we’ve been inseparable since. He has traveled with me to Albuquerque, Santa Fe, Trinidad, and Colorado Springs. He’s an excellent companion, and keeps me on my toes – literally. We walk multiple times each day. He has a secure, fenced yard now. His yard is his domain, in which there shall be no poop. Because it’s his yard. It’s for scampering, digging, sniffing, marking as his own, lying in the sun, and playing “chase me” when he steals a shoe or a pillow of mine. He’s the best boy, and we’re working on training me so that he’ll be simpler for other people and dogs to get along with also.
I got the house. I got the dog. I have a job, a car, an e-bike, clothing, food, amenities, a tiny amount of savings, electronics, blah blah blah. Any normal, healthy person would be grateful and satisfied. And I am grateful. I also realize, again and again, that accomplishment, aquisitions, and acheivements are never “the thing”. I wanted to find the thing that would make me forever happy. I’ve searched for the spiritual thing, the nutritional thing, the therapeutic thing, the disciplined thing – some external thing. Maybe if I made MORE money, or I were prettier or thinner or more popular or better dressed or successful. Nope. Well, I mean, I don’t know. I guess I could keep TRYING HARDER to make myself acceptable and loveable. Then would I want my life?
And another thing…!
What the heck is all this life for? The suffering in this world is endless and soul crushing. If you’re not depressed you’re not paying attention. I’ve spent decades trying and failing to escape and evade depression. This world is cruel and unfair. I would never survive a war zone. I’m not strong enough. I don’t see the point. We’re all powerless in the face of what leaders and billionaires choose to perpetrate globally, and it seems to get worse each year. Is that true, or is it just the 24-7 news cycle marketing horror? My heart hurts after watching yesterday’s news on YouTube. I read headlines, and the occasional article online, and realize again that news exacerbates hopelessness. I don’t understand the point of existence and have struggled with this since it became clear to me that it’s optional.
I feel guilty saying all of this, knowing there are people everywhere, and some who I know personally, struggling to stay alive because they WANT to be here. I’m sorry for being such an ungrateful, horrid, sad-sack. Maybe I’m just tired. As usual. Also, I’ve done all the medications and behavioral interventions that are well-known to help some people. The one thing that has truly been beneficial is Ketamine Infusion Treatment. These treatments are not covered by insurance, and I’m out of Health Savings Funds for the year. I’ve received some help from my mother, but I just don’t want to ask for more money. I could rack up more credit debt but then I’d just have something else depressing to deal with.
I’m alive so that I don’t hurt people who care about me. I’m alive because I adopted this beautiful four-legged friend, Blue, and he makes me smile. He teaches me about unconditional love. I’m alive because I don’t have a good plan for departure, and I feel like I should at least wait until my mother leaves this realm. I’m alive because I have too much stuff, and I don’t want to leave a mess for anyone. I’m alive because I kept thinking I might write a memoir about living a life I haven’t really wanted.
Here’s my new idea about making life worth living. I was thinking about writing a book about my last year on the planet. During this final year I would just travel, explore, write, play, paint, sing, hike, make things, connect with other humans, and indulge myself in every curiousity and whim that is presented. This would not be a fiction. I”m thinking of doing this soon. I have no heirs to inherit any wealth, and no wealth to leave them at this point. It doesn’t matter if I die with nothing. What if I just lived for the next year seeking the point of being alive by only doing things that make me feel like being alive is worthwhile?
Items on my list include:
- Travel to Iceland to soak in hot springs, hike volcanoes, and buy a good sweater.
- Travel to Italy to hear opera in Milan and tour museums and cathedrals.
- Travel to every state in the US in an RV (why haven’t I already done this?), talk to strangers, and learn to do one new thing in each state.
- Walk a very long distance without worrying about lodging a food, and rely on “the universe” to show me how to survive.
- Travel by train. Anywhere. Everywhere.
- Visit NYC to see the places where I lived 40 years ago, and experience everything anew.
- Stop working for others and just make things, paint, sing, teach yoga, teach other things, write, live.
- Travel to Mexico and South America to see all of the incredible art, culture, and ruins.
- Travel to Southern Argentina to see penguins.
- Travel to Northern Europe to live in the arctic circle for a while.
- Sing every day, and practice piano.
- Apprentice with an expert piano tuner, and refine these skills.
During this wild, untethered exploration I would write a book about doing all of the things I want to before ending my life. I do plan to end my life eventually. I mean, I don’t have an actual plan, but I’m certainly not going to linger and suffer. I’m not up for all that. And I don’t want to sit her languishing, whining about all that I haven’t been able to do yet. Maybe I should just do it all and then decide whether being alive is worth the banality and struggle. I want to state, again, that my life is not a struggle in terms of circumstances. I am healthy. I have everything I need to stay alive. I have more than I need, in fact. I have built a life that many people would love to have, and yet, I’ve struggled with depression for most of my 56 years. I may have been fine until 11 or so. Perhaps it’s only really been 45 years of this consistently pesky mood disorder.
Anyway, I have an amazing dog who lives with me and has a magical ability to change my mood, even when darkness seeps out of me blanketing the world with sadness. Blue interrupts my scrolling addiction and reminds me to uncurl my spine, go outside, walk, and breathe. He makes me smile. The flash of white on the tip of his tail dances and plays, encouraging and distracting me from my echo chamber of mental chatter. I glance at the desert foliage he sniffs and remember to inhale life, and exhale, making space for each next moment.


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