I’ve often heard that happiness and feeling good comes from within.
I used to believe that.
I can’t say that I believe that anymore. For quite some time, I have been fighting the onset of another depressive episode – holding out that I can somehow convince myself to be happy. I know all of these things to do, all of these “better ways” that have been suggested and tried. Nothing sustains me anymore.
I feel like my attempts mean nothing.
If happiness comes from within, then why can’t I find it?
Where the fuck is it?
I’ve looked inside my being. I’ve looked inside my heart. I’ve looked inside my soul. The only thing I find is complete anger, complete self-loathing, and complete self-deprecating thoughts. I don’t act on the thoughts, but they are there. They are always lurking, always overpowering anything else. I feel like anything that can, remotely, be viewed as happy is swallowed up by some sludge – a putrid, oozing, sludge of crap that exists within me.
I can’t find peace.
I no longer know my place. I no longer understand my responsibilities. I no longer comprehend a purpose. I’m tortured by expectations – real, perceived or whatever. I can’t seem to find a way to connect to people any more. I feel detached.
I sought comfort in things that might have been good in moderation – food, drinking, sex, spending money, etc. I looked for ways to make myself feel important – a career, a hobby, a cause of some sort. I looked for something, anything…
But I just don’t know that anything good comes from within. I can’t find it.
I don’t even know that I can write about it anymore.
Haven’t I said enough?