Each day is a struggle. It feels like nothing is alright and it will never be alright again. I go over and over the past and think about how things should have been different; how I could have done things differently in my life. If only I had the strength and confidence to follow through on things that I felt weren't right and needed to be changed. I lay guilt trips on myself each and every day. Then I blame others for the things that they did to me. I also blame the people who didn't help me when I went looking for help. But deep down inside I know that if I had had more confidence, I would have pursued that cry for help until I found some somewhere. I did try.
Each day there is a dark cloud hanging over me. I am numb. I can't feel or relate to other things because I am so dead and empty inside. I force myself to work and do things for others. Keeping busy helps for a little while; then when I have time to think, I start crying again and sink into that darkness and that feeling of hopelessness. I don't feel that I have anything to look forward to or any happy memories to look back on. I read once that people need goals--long term and short term--to keep themselves from becoming depressed or to have something to look forward to. I keep trying to think of things that can give me hope and occupy my mind. That works for a little while.
The thought of planting a garden in the spring, of writing or helping someone else works for a short time. I feel constant frustration in everything that I try to accomplish. I wonder what purpose I have in life or of what use I am. Why did all these cruel circumstances happen in my life that I ended up like this? I can't feel anything in prayer anymore. Food tastes like cardboard but I eat because I am aware of nutrition. I read the daily paper and agree that there are tragic things happening in the world but I feel like I am outside a window looking in. I'm like a zombie, a robot.
I can't remember what it is like to feel alive and hopeful. Even listening to music which I used to enjoy has no effect. It used to be cheering and uplifting but not anymore. I feel devoid of all human emotion, sick inside, totally empty, a shell of a human being. I want to feel alive and happy again. Does anyone really care? Am I all alone?
Marge has been writing all her life and just turned 62 this year.
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