It's Hard to Keep Going Sometimes

 It’s hard to keep going sometimes. The first half of 2025 was a repetitive kick in the nuts. In the past three months I’ve lost my job, lost my mom, and some other unfortunate things happen beyond my control. It’s genuinely a miracle I did not kill myself with everything that’s happened from March to now and will have to deal with later. I’ve thought about it many, many times, but I chug along all the same. Call it going with obligation. Call it a naturalistic need to keep moving forward, but I’m very tired, y’all. It’s hard to keep going sometimes, but I still keep on keeping on. 

Since my mom passed, my love for life has certainly dimmed. There’s not a lot of people I can talk to about it. Especially with me certainly going, “Nooo, I’m fine!” When asked if I’m okay.  And I feel I’ve reached this period of time after a loved one passes of “Okay, keep it in. It’s been long enough. You’re bumming people out.” So I don’t talk about it. What’s to talk about? She’s gone and I miss her. Not much more to say. Anything more is overkill at this point. So I keep it inside. 

The greatest point to this I can think of is when I came back from bereavement to my new job and only three people said anything to me regarding my loss. I think of its more of a “I don’t want to say anything in case I upset the guy.” Understandable. How do you talk to a guy who you don’t know, just met, and he goes through the greatest loss someone can do through? Evidently, you don’t. So you say nothing. Don’t feel bad. I say nothing most of the time and probably wouldn’t have much to say if asked anyway. 

A lot of things have seemingly changed. What do you do about that? You carry on with those that remain. Treat it like water; allow it to take form of the container you place it in. If something is taken out, the formless shape of water will fill it right back up. Give it time and roll with the changes that’ve been given to your situation. 

I believe the life I live treats me with a scale system. Nothing remains unbalanced. I lose a job, I gain a better one. I lose my mom, I gain a loving, supportive partner. I lose friends, I gain more. The only thing that stays the same is my mind taking hit after hit and has yet to cease stopping. 

Though I have to point out things that give me a little bit of solace: I’ve continued to be kind to others (that aren’t fucking assholes), I very much still maintain my need to care for others when they’re down, that my passion has not been extinguished nor dimmed, and everyday I continue to try and do my best. It’s all I can do. 

I have this tendency in my personality to try and cheer people up even though I, myself am suffering tremendously. The world has not gotten so dark in my eyes that I’ve checked out. I hope I never have to. I love life. I love the people in my life who makes it easier. I love my girlfriend who shows me there is still more I can not only receive, but to give back to life. She’s been nothing but terrific to me and I couldn’t be more thankful. All is not lost, and so I remain. 

There is a takeaway, I suppose. I used to ask myself, “Why do good things happen to good people?” There was a Stephen King short story, “The Moving Finger,” that also asked this question. His answer was a tongue-in-cheek horror-esque of “Because They Can.” At the moment, I find my reasonable answer is, “Because good people make use of bad things.” 

Good people can cope. Good people can reshape tragedy into a tool to help others. The kindest of people are so because they’ve seen sadder things than most. Kind people are so because they’ve witnessed some vast cruelties in their time. Wise people are so because life has thrown so much at them to learn from. Good people are so because they cannot stand more wickedness in the world.  

I hope I’m doing some good with all this writing I do.