To Be Better

 It is January 1st, 12:00 AM, the ball has dropped and a loud roar fills the small room. It’s cramped. It’s lively, and beneath all the color there’s a hint of grey amongst the crowd. I sit alone with a glass of wine, and I look out into the scene.

 It is July 2023, I sit in the waiting room of my counselor’s office. It is 10:00 AM. My hands are damaged. Open wounds can be seen on my knuckles. It hurts to form a fist. Just a few minutes ago, I got into a fender bender just out in the parking lot. A few days ago, I fell into a spiral that resulted in my damaged hands. My counselor finally opens the door and welcomes me in.

After the ball dropped, I hopped in the car, and I headed back home, but before I even reached the interstate, tears began to swell my face. I couldn’t control it. I couldn’t stop it, but I had this amazing idea in the midst of my unraveling, I started talking. This was certainly unusual of me, but I thought it best to give it a shot. I let out a howl. I started talking to my family. Telling them how sorry I am. How sorry that I haven’t really built the life I was meant to have. I told my grandmother that I was going to be strong, because that’s the grandson that she raised. I could barely get through it without breaking into more tears.

I’m just me. I know that’s not enough sometimes, but that’s all I can be is me. 

 As I woke up to a brand new year, a new thought awakes with me. Nobody has more contempt for me than me.

 Albert Camus, a 20th century French philosopher, details his idea of the absurd in his essay, The Myth of Sisyphus. In the essay, he explores suicide and the thought process that it takes to reach a conclusion like that. He talks about reaching a crossroads, where man obtains consciousness and comes face to face with the absurd. A man’s need for explanation and reason meets an indifferent universe. A universe that doesn’t reward or take, but just is. He states,

“Likewise and during every day of an unillustrious life, time carries us. But a moment always comes when we have to carry it… A day comes when a man notices or says that he is thirty. Thus he asserts his youth. But simultaneously he situates himself in relation to time. He takes his place in it. He admits that he stands at a certain point on a curve that he acknowledges having to travel to its end. He belongs to time…”(Camus 5)

In July of 2023, I remember the pressure building up. I remember thinking about my career. I remember thinking about how I still have no idea what exactly I'm going to do. The walls began to close and the shortness of breath became apparent. I have recognized my place in time. I wanted it to stop. I wanted to let go of it, so I screamed. I punched. When it was all over it was a mess. I saw the cuts on my hand and the damage I left behind. Nothing really changed at that moment. I was still alone.  

In the counselor’s office we talk about it. We talk about the fender bender, what happened at home, and all the recent events.

Did you hurt anyone?

No

Did you do it on purpose ?

No

Are you planning on hurting yourself or others?

No

What was going through your mind at that moment?

I was thinking about how disappointed I was in myself. That I need to get better.

You say that a lot. ‘To be better’ What does that really mean?

...I don’t know. That I need to make something of myself. That I need to make my family proud.

Why wouldn’t they be proud of who you are now? Why wouldn’t they love you now?

...

 I’ve done this all before. It can feel so ridiculous fighting the same fight over and over again. Trying so hard to love yourself, but it all feels counterfeit, so I try to find it in my work and accolades, but all that falls through when it’s all done and the applause stops. What don’t I get? Why do I keep slipping back into this?  

The same counseling office.

The same feeling.

The same thoughts.

When thinking of this, I remember the tale of Sisyphus. The tale of Sisyphus, in short, is about a man defying deities and death itself to live in the world. When he eventually dies like all humans do, he is subject to punishment in the Underworld. There, his punishment was to roll a boulder up a hill. All he needs to do is to get it to the top. When he gets it to the top though, it rolls back down. He does this again, and again for the rest of eternity. Camus writes,

“I leave Sisyphus at the foot of the mountain! One always finds one's burden again. But Sisyphus teaches the higher fidelity that negates the gods and raises rocks. He too concludes that all is well. This universe henceforth without a master seems to him neither sterile nor futile. Each atom of that stone, each mineral flake of that night filled mountain, in itself forms a world. The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.” (Camus 24)

Here he concludes that how we live in an unreasonable world is with a joy for the struggle. We find ways to cope with it. We find ways towards betterment even with the ever present pain burden we carry.

I will fall off the wagon. 

I will have another breakdown. 

I will cry.  

I will succumb to my thoughts. 

I will scream into the contained void. 

The boulder rolls back down.

I will talk to a friend. 

I will talk to a counselor.

I will take healthier steps. 

My relationships will get better.

 I roll the boulder back up the hill. 

The struggle itself towards betterment is enough to fill my heart. I will be happy.