You know the cliché emo teenager line: "I have never drawn a happy breath!"? Well, paging through my journal looks like evidence of the veracity of that in my case. I have been miserable for so f'n long! The specifics of what's been making me depressed may have changed over the years (although the "no job" factor is a recurring theme), but it's been a craptastic decade and a half. One of "my problems" is that I never get over any emotional wounds ... I'm a frick'n "picture of Dorian Grey" of never-fading emotional traumas ... and reading back over these posts makes those aches and agonies fresh and immediate. Not fun. {side note: this is why I "can't do sales", as every "NO!" is a dagger stab of rejection, belittlement, and exile, none of which ever heal over}
I wonder if I had a chance of reading back over how shitty life has been over the past 15 years how I would have processed it. Every month that grinds by these days makes me think that dying in the 1993 car crash would have been a blessing, and that this life is something that I've been damned to.
