We are at the park. It’s a beautiful day. I feel incapable of joy. Or any positive emotion. I want to cry, almost all the time. I know my husband is frustrated with me. I see how he looks at me, disgusted at times. He’s even referred to me “poor you” when he’s really angry with me. I know I’m impacting him. I don’t sleep very well at night. I look around at all these happy families and think, “Why can’t that be me?” The tears spill down my cheeks. Even my dog isn’t sitting by me. He’d much rather explore the park.
Every day feels like an uphill climb for me. I’m not just on the struggle bus; I’m driving that bitch. Have been for awhile.
I’m in therapy. Work out regularly. Keep a gratitude journal. Eat right. Try to get enough sleep. Am trying to find a psychiatrist to get me on a medication that may help. This sadness overwhelms all my efforts. I hate feeling this way.
I want something different for my life, my legacy. I don’t want this endless trail of sadness to follow me. Yet I don’t know how to pick myself up.
What No One Told Me 