Why can't I be happy? Today was a bad day, but there wasn't really any reason for it to be. I think I'm going to go to the doctor this week to get stronger meds; the ones I have now clearly aren't working anymore.
I wanted someone who would listen to me today, someone who'd care, and I wrote the following to Mary (that's the ex, who has some crazy idea that we can be friends someday) explaining my current state of mind. I'm feeling slightly better now, but what about tomorrow? I need to find some way to cope that doesn't involve alcohol.
I'm miserable. I know you never thought I was happy when I was with you, but if you saw me now you'd think I'd was ecstatic then by comparison.
I feel empty inside, and I'm so lonely. I look at my life, and there are things I hate about it, and I try to change them. I try to be more cheerful. I try to reach out to people, to end the loneliness. I try everything I can think of, and nothing works. Each day is as bleak as the last; I can't see the light through the darkness. I don't even know that I believe the light exists anymore.
Every day is a struggle. I have no enjoyment; what you never understood about me smoking, and why I'd never quit, is that it was one of the few pleasurable things I had. Lately it's barely enough to swirl the fog I find myself in.
Sometimes I think the only reason I don't give up is because I know the devastating effect my death would have on my family and friends. But how long can a person live solely for other people? A year? Five years? Ten?
You, at least, though we're so different, and probably couldn't have had a real future together, were someone to talk to, to do things with, someone to love, someone to love me. Someone to hold on to, and keep the blackness away. But that's an unfair and selfish reason to be with someone. I can't expect you to have saved me; no one should have to be responsible for another's happiness.
Clearly my meds aren't working at the moment. I'm going to have them changed in a week or two when I'm in.
Please don't feel you're to blame for my current state of mind, or that you have to do anything for me. You're someone to whom I can express my feelings, which is what I really needed. Thank you.
But I'll be ok. I must persevere.
I wanted someone who would listen to me today, someone who'd care, and I wrote the following to Mary (that's the ex, who has some crazy idea that we can be friends someday) explaining my current state of mind. I'm feeling slightly better now, but what about tomorrow? I need to find some way to cope that doesn't involve alcohol.
I'm miserable. I know you never thought I was happy when I was with you, but if you saw me now you'd think I'd was ecstatic then by comparison.
I feel empty inside, and I'm so lonely. I look at my life, and there are things I hate about it, and I try to change them. I try to be more cheerful. I try to reach out to people, to end the loneliness. I try everything I can think of, and nothing works. Each day is as bleak as the last; I can't see the light through the darkness. I don't even know that I believe the light exists anymore.
Every day is a struggle. I have no enjoyment; what you never understood about me smoking, and why I'd never quit, is that it was one of the few pleasurable things I had. Lately it's barely enough to swirl the fog I find myself in.
Sometimes I think the only reason I don't give up is because I know the devastating effect my death would have on my family and friends. But how long can a person live solely for other people? A year? Five years? Ten?
You, at least, though we're so different, and probably couldn't have had a real future together, were someone to talk to, to do things with, someone to love, someone to love me. Someone to hold on to, and keep the blackness away. But that's an unfair and selfish reason to be with someone. I can't expect you to have saved me; no one should have to be responsible for another's happiness.
Clearly my meds aren't working at the moment. I'm going to have them changed in a week or two when I'm in.
Please don't feel you're to blame for my current state of mind, or that you have to do anything for me. You're someone to whom I can express my feelings, which is what I really needed. Thank you.
But I'll be ok. I must persevere.
VIEW 10 of 10 COMMENTS
claudette:
Nah, my best friend from way back is OCD like a mother fucker and I think she cleans twice a year. Silly stereotypes. 
claudette:
A few months back my back shower exploded with waste that backed up from the sewer pipe. Flooded the back part of the house. Cost a few g's to have 20 feet of pipe dug up in the backyard and replaced. It was a lovely experience.