Decisions

One day, to distract myself from reality, I read an article about a young nun and her reasons to go into a convent and some of her experiences. I found it quite interesting for reasons you may not expect.

I am not a religious person, actually I don't follow one at all. 

But I found myself fantasizing about her life, the young nun. The fact that she doesn't have to make any decisions. At.All.

She has a routine she would follow every day, she had chores to do and she just prays the day away. She doesn't have to make any decisions. If you don't have to do that, you can't make the wrong ones. Right?

Granted, I have no desire to pray the day away. But if I could just exist in a everyday boring routine and not have to decide anything, it would be pure bliss. 

David and I have always joked that we had our first child to make choices for us. even back in the days when we wanted to simply go out to eat, that decision was annoying as heck. 

Then as time goes by, you have to make bigger and more important choices. I don't want to decide because I might make the wrong one and , unlike those "Choose your own Adventure" books of  my youth, you can't go back and pick the other option if you discover you picked a shitty choice.

These days I sit knowing I should do plenty of things, but afraid to do the wrong thing, so I do nothing. That is me.

Perhaps I am so consumed by my anxiety. Thankfully, David is smarter than me. I am pretty lucky he picks up the slack because these days I am quite worthless.

If anyone reads this, they probably think I am a huge whiner. Which is okay. I really don't have anyone to vent to and many years ago a therapist told me to write down my feelings or some nonsense. So that is what I do.  If I don't post anything for a while, that means I am doing okay. I  add to this blog ting when I am feeling my most pathetic. Such is life, I suppose.

But in the last few months, I have been arrested, fired, threw my career away, filed for every government assistance I can, and still cannot pay the bills, or the rent. David works his butt off for little money and I have no qualifications to get a job other than the career I cannot continue in. So I think anyone else would be miserable as well. It  is what it is and sometimes I think I just exist in a low level depression and self loathing, functioning day to day. I don't see a bright future for myself. And that is hard to realize.
For years, I could always find a light at the end of the tunnel. But it isn't there for me anymore.

The Haunting story of David Sharp

I have always had a fascination with all thing macabre or horrifying. The creepier and stranger the tale, the more interesting I find it.
Today I stumbled across a documentary on Mount Everest and the fact that over 200 people have died atop the mountain and many, due to the extremely high cost of removing them from the mountain, end up remaining there frozen in time. The bodies lie there in the snow as climbers step over them. Apparently, some of the bodies are pushed off of ledges and cliffs so they will be out of view.
David Sharp was a British climber that froze to death on the mountain in 2006. The documentary I saw actually had him in it.  The group doing the documentary passed him while he was huddled in a cave, they thought he was already dead at first but noticed movement and breath vapor. They encouraged him to keep moving and went on their way. 30-40 people passed him dying in the cave and kept going.
I have never even thought about climbing  a mountain. Heck, I have only seen snow once. But I am so haunted by the fact that this poor man froze to death all alone in the span of a day. Granted, at that altitude hypoxia and frostbite are so common, one has to keep moving or die. But I cannot imagine walking past a barely alive human being and continue to move on.
I just imagine what that poor man was thinking sitting in that cave knowing he would probably freeze to death alone in the dark. The thought horrifies me.
Apparently his frozen body remained there for a year before he was moved. A grim reminder to other climbers that it could happen to them, too.