Life’s not fair. Never was and never will be. “Fair” and “unfair” are mental constructs, ways of integrating an unexplainable mystery into a manageable system.
Because a manageable system creates the illusion of control. The more we categorize, the more we manage, the more we integrate, the more we believe we are in control. And the more in control we feel, the more secure we feel.
Security is the biggest lie we tell to ourselves, in a desperate act of survival. Life is never about survival. We survive anyway, in the end.
I may not be here tomorrow and so may you. And yet, we continue to push every second for an uncertain future, based on a fuzzy memory about what we think we may call happiness.
“Still being here tomorrow” became the highest satisfaction, our ultimate goal, for which we sacrifice every piece of authenticity. Being it a genuine laughter, a deep and profound sadness or the scariest shiver in front of what we think it may be a huge catastrophe.
We will be here tomorrow, in one shape or another. But our true nature may not. It may be lost in the limbo of dead memories, unborn worries and their constant, hypnotic balance between a dried past and a deluding future.
Life’s not fair. Never was and never will be. It’s full of surprises, uncontrollable and powerful beyond imagination. Today’s catastrophe carries the seeds for the next epiphany. The rapture of this very second will in fact open the gate for the next disaster. Ecstasy by ecstasy, tragedy by tragedy, we advance in a spiral of bliss.
The moment life will start to feel fair, check your pulse. You may be dead.
Running For My Life - from zero to ultramarathoner
The spooky thing about depression is that it sneaks in. There aren’t really trumpets and loud voices announcing: “Hail, hail, this is depression entering the room, all rise!” Nope. It’s slow, silent, creepy. It doesn’t even look like depression. It starts with small isolation thoughts like: “Maybe I shouldn’t get out today, I just don’t feel like going out”. And then it does the same next day. And then the day after that and so on. And then it starts to whisper louder and louder in your ears: “Why would you go outside, you loser? Didn’t have enough yet? Want more people to make fun of how much of a big, fat loser you are?”
And then you start to breath in guilt and shame, instead of air. Every breathe you take is putting more dark thoughts into your body.
Until you get stuck. You can’t move anymore. At all.
If you want to know how I got out of this space, eventually, check out my latest book on Amazon and Kindle.