Sunday Existential Vacuum – Right here – I’m getting life wrong – you?

So, is it only because I have been in contact with the literature on “Existential Vacuums” that I am going through this? If I had no idea what this “Existential Vacuum” was, would I still have experienced it/be experiencing it?

The kuck thing about being a human with one life and one perspective, is that I will actually never have any definite answer to my question, because I can’t live two lives at once, and I can’t see two perspectives when I am on my own either… and if I were chatting to someone about my Existentialist Vacuum on any given Sunday morning (set to last the whole morning – usually – and be done by the time I have survived it into late afternoon and there isn’t much day left to force myself to live through), then they would know about it, so they would be knowledgeable and that would then make the investigative point of ‘if you didn’t know’, unobtainable. Ugh.

People getting up to serve others this morning – consider yourselves blessed indeed! You have purpose, you have something to genuinely moan about, or celebrate, or take your mind off yourself. You have the choice gifted to you by having somewhere to be, with the off, or on, chance that the person/s you are serving will care about you. Waking up on your ace, waking up 24 years into professed and confirmed faith, wondering where the heck you went wrong with your life to end up where you are, just sucks. There is time, in the wonders of the comforting love of a big duvet, to assess all the years before, all the decisions before, and try figure out, where you, where I, went wrong. Sorry for assuming anyone else on the planet is, or has been, where I am. I look back, I see what I did (I know animals are REALLY lucky, because they don’t have this gift of imagination or conceptualisation of the past or a future without themselves in it),  and I rehash the decisions I made, the contextual factors, who I was at the time, how I made the decisions, and, well, for who I was, with what I had to deal with, with what I knew, I would still make those decisions… so how did I end up so isolated, cut off from everything, unable to force myself to go against my ethics and morals (that’s from brown-nosing the boss to producing fake and easy ‘better’ work results, or being ‘fake’ amongst family and/or friends, to not forcing myself into a guy’s space when he likes someone else, or dating a colleague, for example), and goal-less.

The worst of it – 38 years I have run around and done things. Taking up the Christian idea that God made Adam and Eve and Adam’s first job was work, not love, work first, then the love comes afterwards. “DO SOMETHING”. God provides. Have faith, trust, be honest, noble, good and true. Live a life pleasing to all that is good and of eternal value. Push on through the difficult times, being a lighthouse to God and goodness, seeking and being for something better than brokenness, ignorance, fear and hate – and then – the worst – I feel like I have ended up worse off. No purpose (because I don’t have biological children, which is ‘apparently’ the purpose of a woman, according to some humans I have had to have conversations with). A room full of ‘stuff’ (I can’t even afford to live in my own home, so someone else is doing that for me). Stuff that won’t mean anything to anyone when I am dead. I achieved so much in the last set of years – published, worked in seven career areas, performed on stage in North London, learnt to dance, paint, write, enjoyed traveling to different countries – and it really doesn’t mean anything… except in the times it makes a good story, that helps someone else, or helps me deepen the ‘chit chat’ I detest…

Sitting here though, with no-one to tell any story to, I type out into cyberspace with the gust of: “Get it Out”, don’t hold the loneliness in – get it out… get out the angst… the mundane purposelessness of waiting for the thousandth load of washing to finish in the machine, as per all my decades of doing washing…

Yet, deepening the purposeless of what’s created, I know there may be only one or two ‘reads’ of this post, and I’ll never know who, or why, or if they got to the end or not… and it doesn’t matter. I will still be 38, sitting in a passageway of a boarding house corridor (because of faulty Wifi), wondering why the heck this was where all my decisions were supposed to take me, and why I had to have such low motivational levels, and such high fatigue in the process; so that the very idea of even doing anything makes me more exhausted… but without any goals, and in the confusion of why God hasn’t given me any goals anymore… correction – why God hasn’t given me the motivation or tangible, refilling-me-love-and-support to achieve the goals of Love and Light through teaching and writing which He expects of me … I don’t know … I have gone wrong somewhere and I don’t know where… Show me Lord, please show me and motivate me to keep going …  Lots of love, Shannan, Amen.

And the washing is done ... next load - whites