You know, maybe, there is something more to this that I’m not understanding. Life that is. I might be tired and content with the idea of my passing but maybe I’m just being wreckless. I recently started going back to the gym. That was hell on earth the first time. I swear everyone was staring and making comments about me. I managed 15 minutes on a crosstrainer, headphones blaring then a swift exit to the changing rooms and back home to the waiting hound. I saw it was failure. Others see it as success. I guess that it was a success since I’ve managed to go this morning, lasted 30 minutes exercising, shower and then home to hound (who didnt destroy the house). I certainly feel better for it, happier, relief and a bit of satisfaction I dare say.

If I can get joy from that, even a little bit, then its a fair assumption there are other things out there that might induce a joyeous feeling? I think if I take a slow, delicate approach to things, not too much at once and see how I get on.

So the black dog is something I will have to get used to and carry on regardless till he drags me down to the burning inferno that is hell.

If could also be said that I must be content with my life if I’m content with the notion of no longer existing. That I have somewhat become complacent maybe and assumed the existential question of, is this it?

No. I firmly believe that there is more. Dont get me wrong I love my wife and kids, I love being loved and I know that I am. The BPD plays a bigger part in all of this where I get thrown in different manic directions and thoughts. Then thoughts lead to dreams and dreams to nightmare memories to more PRN medication. But yes. If today has shown me anything it is that you can find joy in a simple accomplishment. Not something I am used to tbh.

Small. Baby. Steps.