I’ve felt truly terrible the last few days. I’ve been holding on to the idea that it would get better but such optimism is hard to maintain when facing down years of negative thinking. I’m not trying to play the victim game here but these last few days have really stunk for me emotionally. It feels like the old days, when fall would creep in and the sadness buried in my bones would burst anew in all its terrible glory. Perpetual winter was about the only thing I could feel and that awful sensation is coming back. At least I can recognize it, and more importantly at least I have a small understanding on why these feelings exist. Part of me though feels comforted by the mere thought of despair, at least it is something that can be understood and is familiar. Trying to find happiness is hard fucking work that involves self reflection and honesty, and despair sometimes is a much easier alternative because the only process necessary for its completion is to just give up; which I have done, for years.
I wish I could look in the mirror and love myself, I wish I could see something good in my reflection but I just see bitter failure and sadness staring back. At this point I don’t know if it is possible that I will ever be able to love myself in a constructive way, but I desperately want to. I’m tired of feeling like an afterthought and sadness is so exhausting. I just want to know what the end result is going to be, how many years does a person need to see a doctor before they can find a level of peace. I’m making some progress, but I’m not any closer is answering the question why am I incapable of loving myself.
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