Do I tell you about how much I hate myself due to a life time spent in therapy and performance appraisals and less-than-awesome parenting?
Or do I tell you about how broken I feel, how I just want to curl up under a rock and not deal with life and its stresses. How I want to float away in the wind. How I don’t want to feel any more.
I don’t know what to tell you that won’t sound like something I’ve told you before, that won’t bore you to tears, because you’ve heard it all before and “Why on earth can’t she get her act together and be happy and accepting and inspiring already?”
They say depression lies, but why is it that every time I see my psychologist I walk away feeling worse, because my thoughts are wrong and my behaviours are wrong and the reason my thinking and behaviours are wrong is because my brain is fucked. I don’t see how I can change my thinking and my behaviours while my brain is fucked and the medication just can’t help enough to get me out of this brain fuckery.
I did have one realisation – it’s not my financial situation that is stopping me from living life more fully, it’s my aloneness. I don’t do things, because I don’t want to do them alone, because I don’t have anyone to look after the kids at night, because I don’t have a second income to fall back on, because I don’t have any emotional support.
I might have a support network around me and my friends have been great, but really it’s no substitute for a life partner, or a really close friend or family member who you can rely on unconditionally. It really is just me against the world.
Do I tell you how I have moments of such loathing towards my children, that I am ashamed? Will you crucify me and take my children away? There is no-one to support me as I learn to parent a pre-teen, a soon-to-be-teen, who pushes all the buttons and doesn’t seem to have an ounce of respect for me one minute and the next he comes and gives me a hug and a kiss goodnight. I wish somebody would tell me what to do.
And then, I feel like, “What makes you think you’re so special? There are thousands of sole parents out there who do this, who do it better, who have proper jobs and can provide properly for their families, why can’t you do it?”
I don’t know why. Am I so stuck in the past, in the vision I had for my life, that I can make it work any other way?
Depression lies, they say.
My whole life I’ve sought my other. As a child I wanted to be rescued by my “real” family, or by a prince, who would take me away to a life full of love and adventure and bliss.
This continued in my teenage years and then in my twenties I fell in love and thought that was it. When he left I fell apart and I meet my abuser.
Then I convinced myself that he was the one and I made myself happy living a pretend life.
And now I pretend I am OK alone. I share this message that we are enough by ourselves, that we don’t need anyone else do complete us, and I believe it, but I still feel like a fraud. I am complete. I am just not happy. And I know that I need to make myself happy before I can stop being alone. Except I don’t know how to do that.