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Treadmills
The world is a giant treadmill, and I’m the only one on it. Everyone else can roam freely but I’m stuck on this treadmill.
That’s the only way I can think to describe this feeling.
It feels like I’m running, constantly chasing after people. It’s not that they don’t want me but…
They never chase after me.
So I send all the messages. I do all the chores. I do all the heavy lifting and the emotional admin.
I don’t ask it in return.
I know I’ll be disappointed.
Because people don’t chase me.
So I ask for small favours. Things to try and help in ways that I know don’t make sense. But they help.
Clean up your recycling. Don’t make a mess of the kitchen immediately after I’ve cleaned it. Beta read for me when I send you some chapters.
I’m still disappointed. These favours don’t make sense to other people so they are forgotten. Left by the wayside. Or just flat out refused or treated like I’m crazy.
How can I explain that seeing the mess in the kitchen short circuits my brain and I can only reset once I’ve set the kitchen back to how it was.
How do I explain that I’ve already had to clean up after you twice and all I’m asking is for you to flatten some cardboard down and stick it in a bag. You don’t even need to leave the room.
How do I explain that beta reading for me was a sign of trust and your radio silence on those chapters kind of… hurts. Because I know you haven’t read it, but you haven’t even mentioned it.
Forgotten. Argued with. Looked at like I’m nuts.
I can’t ask for the big favours because no one chases me. I’ll just be an inconvenience. I can’t ask for the small favours because I’m only ever disappointed at best and worst I find a new reason to hate myself.
So I’m on the treadmill, running until I can’t breathe, running until I can’t feel my legs, running until I pass out, in the vain hope that they’ll see the effort I put in for them.
And maybe they’ll return it.
Maybe they’ll switch off the treadmill and let me rest and sit next to me and reach out their hand first.
I need help. I’m tired. But I can’t turn this treadmill off myself. Because if I stop running, if I don’t exhaust myself, no one reaches out first.
The last 2 weeks or so have been hell. I’ve been contemplating suicide - I don’t want to but like the idea keeps following me; intrusive thoughts suck - and I don’t have anyone in real life to talk to about it.
The most comfort I’ve had has been strangers on the internet messaging me support. I probably wouldn’t have made it this far without those. People have left me their Twitter handles and Instagram and Tumblrs to reach out to them.
Thank you for offering your hand out to me.
But I’m scared to take it.
Because I can’t get on the treadmill and I can’t turn the speed up and I can’t keep running and running.
I’m burnt out.
Completely. Totally.
Your kindness is a blessing I don’t deserve. Because I’m too afraid of what it means.
If a stranger can extend that hand, why can’t my own friends?
Why do I have to be the strong one all the time?
Why do I have to run and run and run just to get anywhere?
I wish I could be the one staying in one spot and have people run for me for once.