what if it’s not depression…?
what if it’s just the result of constantly fighting for a life that doesnt suck; that isn’t full of struggle? my life has been full of trauma, pain, and lack of safety and security since before birth really, when i was bathed in my abused mom’s cortisol. i spent my childhood in fear and have spent my adulthood in daily physical pain while trying to find some degree of security and to be able to connect with others. but i don’t think i’m actually capable of that. and i think my depression comes from this constant reach for better that, at this point, i suspect isn’t in the cards for me. i’m starting to wonder what just blatant acceptance of misery might look like. not hoping or wanting, but just sort of sitting down in the morass that is my life and running out the clock. it’s not living, no. but i’ve never really had that.