Well, it’s another one of those days. You know, when you wake up and start off wondering if you can make it through? So many of my days seem to be like that lately. I look around and everyone else seems to be happy, except for me… and I wonder, what exactly do they get that I’m missing.
I wrote my counselor a letter last week (I posted it on here, for those of you who missed that post). As usual I gave it to him at the end of the session. I should start giving him the letters during the session, instead of at the end. So we can talk about what I’m feeling then, then; but I’ve never liked people reading what I write while I’m right there. I guess this time especially the feelings aren’t going to change too much from session to session. I’m tired. I’m depressed. I want this life to fast forward until death. Yup, that sums it up in a nut shell. I have such problems, I wonder if I’m ever going to be ok. I mean really be ok. Wake up in the morning and not hope for death, but be happy to face the day. I understand that every day is a gift from above, I get that, and I feel guilty for feeling bad, but geez, I just don’t know how much more I can take.
I feel so guilty for feeling the way I do. There are tons of people out there that are going through much worse situations. I’m not. I have a job that pays the bills fairly comfortably. A husband that loves me. A dog that loves me. What more can a gal want? Am I just a horrible person because of the pain and darkness I’m in? This goes beyond just being able to snap out of it. This is harder. This is a violent roller coaster ride, going from low to base and back, never going high. I’m tired of being on this ride. I’m tired of wondering if I’m ever going to be happy. I guess in a way though, it’s not like I really know what being happy means. I can’t remember a time when I was happy. How pathetic is that? How pathetic is it that I don’t’ even know what the feeling is like. I look around and all these people are smiling, laughing, getting along through life. And I’m fighting tears all the time, even when where I’m at isn’t someplace I should be crying.
It’s hard for me to make friends. And when I do make friends, it’s hard not to push them away. Don’t ask why, it just is. It’s like I know they are going to hate me, and freak out. It’s easier to get through if I’m the one doing the “breaking up” instead of the one being hurt myself. Yes, I know, it’s a control issue. I’m a horrible person. A horrible person that’s terrified from the feelings a lot.