“I fear I’m not worth love. I showed her the worst part of me, and the saddest part is she would have stayed with me. How sad is that? I had to let her go. It’ll be a year from Sunday. On that day I finally admitted to myself that we were not good for one another. But I keep wanting to go back to her. Why…? She was the one person who saw all of me, and still gave value to me. No one has ever given me so much generosity, not even my parents.”
I’m relapsing and denying myself love. I bought another pack of cigarettes after 2 months. Maybe I dreamed of throat cancer when I woke up a few nights ago. Maybe I won’t go to yoga today because I’m back to torturing myself. I’ve been forcing myself to exhaustion. Maybe this is my idea of a man -the part I’ve admired most about my dad, his tirelessness, his independence, his leadership. I’ve been trying to force these qualities at work and in life, and its working. I directed a team as we moved 54 pallets of a cliff bar donation in a hellish, chaotic day. I’ll have worked 5 weekends in a row by the end of May. It was weird when my boss met my dad, seeing two paternal figures in my life. My dad seemed proud of me for the first time when he kept repeating what my boss said of me. I don’t want to be of sadness only. Life has not been joyful for so long. Everyday I am of longing, numbness, and anger. I find some doses of laughter and happiness, but it is not who I really am. It is not what I truly feel. People are surprised when they hear I have a depressive side.
“You are not your depression.”
“That’s so hard for me to think. I’ve been depressed for as long as I can remember. Even as a kid…”
There are days I wish I were never born. I wish I could end this happier.