Have you ever reached a place where everything seemed completely fruitless? Where you found yourself questioning every effort and whether there was a point to continuing? Where all you wanted to do was shut the door, pull the drapes, and forget about the world outside?
That’s where I am right now. Even writing has become a struggle to find words to express what’s going on inside my head.
There are the events happening in Syria and Egypt, places I’ve been intently invested in for the last couple of years. The thought of inflicting more pain and suffering to those in Syria is almost too much to bear, but what is the right thing to do: send in the troops, or attempt again to find a peaceful solution whilst Syrians are still suffering? And with the turn of events in Egypt it seems their dreams of Eish, Hurriya, Karama Ensaneyya — Bread, Freedom, Human Dignity – are slipping away, replaced by the same things they fought to break down two years ago.
Global warming and pollution melted the polar ice fields so much that this year the North Pole was actually a lake. There has been an increase in poaching of endangered species worldwide, to the point that elephants and rhinos may be completely gone from the wild in five years. Habitat for some species has all but disappeared, leaving the survival of animals such as the orangutans at risk, and the destruction of wilderness continues daily. Governments are selling their natural resources to the highest bidders, and lying to their citizens about the potential damages. There is growing evidence of animal cruelty in every country on the planet.
It feels as if we’re losing ground. Something needs to be done, but what? Better minds than mine are heavily involved in these issues and even some of them feel the futility at times. I feel ineffective. The small actions I take to “help” seem pathetically useless against such daunting challenges and I am in no way educated enough in the areas of politics and human rights to be able to make a more significant contribution and that frustrates me.
In reality the global issues are out of my control, and I can but contribute my single drops of water to the global fire. The personal issues should be easier to sort, but somehow they feel just as daunting.
Years ago when I was still in high school I remember my parents received notice that the farm status on the property might be removed. That would have resulted in an immediate tax hike. My mother was very upset and didn’t know what to do as we weren’t using the place as a farming business but rather milk from the goats and eggs from our chickens was for our health issues. I wrote a letter to the government explaining all this, about the allergies and the need to raise our own food etc. We were able to keep the status.
This month I received a notice that our farm status may be removed, a result of the property being changed from my parent’s names to our names. If I can’t come up with a good enough response for the government, we will lose the farm status and our taxes will go up 25%. I am struggling to figure out what to say, by end of September.
Other small issues have cropped up recently which has made me miss my parents more than usual. I keep thinking of the things that still need to be done, and how Dad was going to talk me through doing them, as he wouldn’t have been strong enough after the cancer treatments. Sadly he didn’t survive, and now I am trying to fumble my way through the tasks.
I am reminded of the things Dad built here and now they are old and needing repairs. Looking at things like the barn doors that Dad made fills me with sadness that I will have to change them because I can’t make them as he did. It seems so stupid to place such emotional attachment to things like pieces of equipment that only Dad used, or the hay wagon that Dad built, or the barn doors… they shouldn’t matter as much as they do right now. They aren’t Dad, but they are all we have left of him.
As well as dealing with Bubba’s illness (am focusing on him being healed), I’ve also been struggling to figure out what my next steps should be. I need to find additional creative work but am at a loss for what to do. It feels as if any creative inspiration has flown the coup, never to return. Whilst I am grateful to have my part-time job, I need more, financially and creatively. But what that might be escapes me.
Although I’ve no reason to bemoan my lot in life, I feel overwhelmed, battered and exhausted. Withdrawing from life isn’t an option but sometimes one must step back, lick the emotional wounds, and try to regenerate the inner strength.
So for those who have wondered, now you know where I am.