A Metaphorical Death

 I am dying. Not a physical death - I mean, we're all moving towards death, physically, but that's beside the point.

They say that the seed must die in order that the plant, the flower, grows.

These platitudes might mean a lot, might serve as encouragement.   But nobody tells you how painful that death might be.  And how hard it is to see the end of the tunnel, even if you know it's in there somewhere.

The current government's exposed corruption have led the country to take draconian measures against small enterprises and businesses (for fear of repatriation by the larger ones) in an attempt to placate the international community at fears of tax evasion and corruption taking place in this Mediterranean gem.  This has entailed the dismantling of my practice, the end of my freelance work and the entry into full time employment, with the stresses that it brings for persons with my current stance. It's taking it's toll, and I'm always tired.

This has also entailed releasing the office, which had been my first home, since 2011.  It was the home I moved into after my separation, and where I sought solace for these ten long years. Some important books, and precious items (sentimental value) were still there and this final dismantling has been physically and emotionally taxing.  The cramming of all the stuff, from office into my home, has meant decluttering and I have managed to get rid of some belongings, but the rest has had to be bundled into a single household. Again, the stress has been telling and I am without my house-with-the-blue-wall - a blue wall does not fit as well into this house. Or, not in the same way I had it.  It's just not the same, though this house is bigger and houses my books better.

Then, there is the personal aspect.  I've had to give up my idea of what I thought I wanted in a relationship, if I want to hang on to this one. The struggle is real.  I feel tired, demotivated and depressed all the time. On the days we share, I feel on top of the world and that nothing can threaten my well-being. On the days when he is doing his own thing, I feel depleted and upset, perhaps inordinately so. I am rediscovering ways of being and ways of filling my time - and of course, reconstructing my ideas of what I'd like life with a man to look like. I am not sure that I like what I am getting, I am not sure that I dislike it, either.  My intellect tells me it's the way to be, my heart yearns for something a little more integrated and less sporadic.

Always we tell ourselves, this is ground work for better times to come. Sometimes it feels like empty platitudes, and sometimes it feels like encouragement. The constant to-and-fro in my mind - and emotions - is hard to handle and does not help. The man is doing what he needs to be doing and I am being given an opportunity to catch up with my friends and hobbies, something I normally yearn to do. Could it be, that this maladaptation, is a sign of something else?  Deep discontent even if I have things quite like I wanted them ?

This widespread change feels like I'm dying - and yes, pain changes people. It feels like I am losing a lot of what I held on to.  The powerful mind that is now taking over me - or perhaps saving me from fates which would be unsuited to me. Or, the duality that is leading to this constant internal conflict - that I am happy one moment and unhappy the next. I like to hope - and trust - that this is all ground-work for better times but I cannot say I am finding it easy or that I am enjoying the ride.