i used to want to travel. i used to think i would someday live the life of anthony bourdain, visiting distant countries, eating spectacular food, and meeting fascinating people. then life happened. depression happened. hospitalizations, crippling debt, and a lost sense of self-worth have lead me to a place where i only leave my small apartment for work and when my family/friends force me to.
my friends are my family, the only people i truly care to call my family. they number less than 20 and several live more than 1000 miles away. they don't always want to be around me though, and i can't really blame them. i don't want to be around me either. the rock and hard place that i call home is that i don't like to leave my apartment but the only time i don't hate myself is when i'm with my friends. the moment i leave their company i can feel a dark curtain closing around my brain and the fire is lit so i can simmer in my self-loathing.
one of my best friends was scuba certified last year. she's been to the gulf of mexico and bonaire since, and will be going to panama, hawaii, and new zealand in the next twelve months. she is trying to convince me to get certified and join her but all i can think about is my debt and how if i was 50 feet underwater i might be tempted to take my oxygen tank off and let it drift to the ocean floor. also, i've never been a big fan of the ocean or swimming and i hate hot weather and humidity.
i only tell her the latter, of course. there's no sense in burdening her with my festering darkness. she's lived through a lot with me and supported me always. she thinks i am doing better now. they all do. and when i am with them, i start to think that maybe i am doing better. but when i leave i remember the truth, that it is only a veneer, and i shut the door to my cave behind me to wait to be invited out again.
my passport was stolen. that is one of my excuses for not going anywhere. it is an incredible pain to replace it, since i now have to explain why it has taken more than five years to report my stolen passport. eventually, i hope, they will get tired of asking why i don't travel. of course, that is its own pitfall because then i will wonder if they no longer care if i leave my apartment.
it is all a vicious cycle. my friend posted this picture to her wall on fb. i think i've found the place where i belong, but it isn't in this world. i made a promise that i would never be the cause of my own demise, so i can't leave.
so i just stay here
in my head
never going anywhere.
