Feeling trapped, yearning for freedom

I’m depressed. I feel trapped between two worlds- the natural one I see with my eyes and the invisible realm that believers put their faith in. I see the suffering in the former, but I'm told to be concerned most about the latter. I feel stuck and confused at a crossroads where so many paths seem inviting, but I remain fearful. I’m afraid to commit to those adventures and callings which beckon me to come near because, while they may provide me with meaningful avenues through which I can express my sincere convictions, I suspect they will take me even farther from those I know, love and cherish. But I also realize that my procrastination does not help anyone.

I'm living a dual existence: the hidden one where I express my true thoughts in a psychological exile of anonymity and the public one where I amiably pretend to believe what I now consider incredible. I’m torn. Mainly because I don’t want anyone to suffer- especially because of something I’ve said, done, neglected to do or refused to accept as true. I feel a burning and all-consuming anxiety over what I imagine to be an oncoming and inevitable source of conflict- knowing that a decision must be made soon. I understand that my elusive ambiguity serves only to frustrate and destabilize those closest to me. Yet I am afraid to commit. When I do commit, I fear rejection. I fear rejection, knowing it is the price of speaking honestly and living proactively.

How can one be honest and not be, in some way, agnostic and uncertain about ultimate matters like "God" and eternity? How can we know anything for sure? Why do we seem to prefer comforting and illusory speculations instead of embracing painful and observable facts? I began my journey searching for a more perfect understanding of the ultimate; a trustworthy method to make sure that I was devoting my life and energy to something credible, powerful and real. In the process, I have learned just how deceptive the human mind can be- especially my own. Realizing my own tendency to fool myself makes me suspicious off all others with the capacity to think. Above all, I do not want to delude myself or anyone else.

But no matter how much I try to separate facts from falsehood my humanity seems to get in the way. Seemingly cursed, I feverishly examine endless articles, rabbit-eared books and online resources as I hunt for satisfying answers to enlighten my mind, shed my prejudices, confirm my intuitions and validate the expense of my journey. But I am constantly reminded that my cognitive capacity has limits and I can’t know it all. I just can’t remember everything I come across in my studies. Like heat, the profound insights of underappreciated authors evaporate and become forgotten memories. My prayer is that I can retain what I need for the times when I will need it. That I will be flexible enough to deal with whatever challenges I encounter.

But, despite my limitations, I am left with reality: issues that I have delayed addressing; painful discussions that I try my best to evade; real people whose lives and destinies are intertwined with my own and which are affected by my choices. I try to manage the complexity as gently and as skillfully as I know how. Elusive humor is helpful in cloaking to my honest thoughts. But at some point the uncomfortable laughter needs to stop.

I know that no one is safe from suffering and I have learned to appreciate the small joys of living and to be content and mindful of our mortality. Sadly, I have only grasped this while I have put off dealing with the old burdens that continue to haunt my waking moments.

I don’t fear an apocalyptic end to this life. Instead, I am horrified by the idea that my final breath will escape my body and leave behind a gross misrepresentation of my authentic self before I can summon the nerve to boldly share with all the full view of my soul and thought. I am equally horrified by the notion that expressing my true opinions will disappoint those I adore. This is amplified by the incessant fear that should I decide to publicize my unpopular opinions they may one day prove to be wrong and misguided and I will have done irrevocable damage to minds and hearts.

But this is the risk we must take as fallible beings.

Heaven is no consolation for living a lie. I admire all who have had the courage to come out publicly as their true selves. My heroes are those who refuse to masquerade in forms that cater to the preferences of others. I do not want to die like those considerate and cowardly Enlightenment-era parish priests who masqueraded as defenders of orthodoxy while leaving behind secret diaries confessing their heretical opinions. I want to be known and remembered for who I truly am. Not as a label, but as a honest man.

But I hold on because I believe that freedom will come if I press towards it. Until then, I walk carefully and advance gradually- summoning the spirits of patience, sensitivity and wisdom. Praying that they guide my words and actions because this feels like the fight of my life. .

Writing helps. But only living will bring fulfillment.