The truth is, I’m not doing so well.
I have an avoidance issue–when the shit really hits the fan I withdraw from friends and family and anything that even smells like it might be positive social interaction. Unfortunately for my dumb ass, positive social interaction happens to be one of the best things for you when you’re struggling with what I’m struggling with. (I never said I make good choices.)
The truth is, I’m doing this alone.
All the bullshit people like to say about how important it is to reach out to someone and tell them how you’re feeling? About how your parents will love you no matter what and you’ll always have people on your side, blah blah blah… yeah, whoever came up with that is an asshole, and an asshole who had good parents. Not that mine didn’t try. They jut weren’t any good at it.
The truth is, I’m barely hanging on.
I fee la profound sense of guilt. I have so much, so much more than I will ever need, and I feel like I’m wasting it. Like I have no right to feel this empty when there are happy people who have nothing, who’ve lost everything, who never had anything to begin with. People like to push the self help shit for depression, but they don’t know what they’re talking about. I feel gratitude. I know what I have.
I feel like I’m slipping. ❀