Once again I am back here, to this state of discomfort and unrest. It seems as though there is a time limit to my complacency. I can’t fathom how people do this, their whole lives, just stay in one place, do the same things, day after day after day. I can’t seem to find the appeal, the desirer to never change, in my mind that is hell.
I have a tendency to blame my depression for everything that happens. My inability to maintain a relationship or my constant feelings of hopelessness, are just a bi-product of the chemical imbalance that is in my brain. But what if my illness is actually saving me from a mundane and monotonous existence.
For so long I have been judging myself based on others, feeling as though I am inadequate because I am still single, have no interest in children and couldn’t put down a downpayment on a house if my life depended on it. I constantly see what I don’t have, the stability, the support, the peace of mind. But what I fail to see is that these people may be content, but they might not be happy. The difference between their unhappiness and mine, is that I get to at least try to change it.
I have been searching for happiness for a long time now and it has brought me to some amazing places and introduced me to some amazing people. I have traveled, I have experienced and even though the whole time I was struggling, I have lived. I can’t imagine if all of those had never happened, if I had gotten what I always thought I wanted.
When I was younger I would picture my life working out, the house, the husband, the career, these were all things that I just thought were part of life. As life progressed though, I began to realize that my life wasn’t quit falling into place as I had planed. There was just something off, I didn’t fit the mold, as much as I wanted to.
I still feel as though something is wrong with me, but I’m slowly coming to terms with who I am, illness and all. I may never settle down, I may always feel anxious and not at ease, but at least I will know that I never stopped trying, I will not have to wake up at the age of 65 wondering what my life had been like if I wasn’t afraid of change. Instead I will have a long list of places I’ve lived in, jobs I have worked, beautiful men I have slept with and the incredible people I have met along the way. I have given up on thinking that I can cure my depression, but I’ve also learned to appreciate it for what it is. Ironically the thing that makes me want to end my life, has been the thing making me live a better life.