Okay, I’m gonna talk about this again. I know I’ve talked about ‘it’ before. And lately, all my posts have been pretty much about the same thing.

So, anyway.

I was thirteen when it started. Depression. Not that I had anything to be depressed about, at least that’s what people said. I mean, I honestly didn’t. I had great parents, a great home, yada yada yada. I’m not blaming anyone, but the strictest parents do make the best liars, and as I grew up, I learned to effortlessly lie about the one thing I should have been honest about, and I kept saying, “I’m all right.”

I shouldn’t have.

I should have talked to someone. Anyone. But then, my parents never asked me, “Are you okay? Can we talk? Is there anything wrong? How can I help?”

We don’t do that in my family. What we do is dismiss problems and call them pretend first world problems. That’s what we do. We also laugh at insecurities, air dirty linen in public, and end things in punches. Because there’s nothing a good beating won’t cure. Yes, even today.

So basically, this killed most of my mojo.

I can’t love without wondering why the person I’m dating would ever want someone like me. Because I’ve been made to feel less than even remotely amazing, all my life, and this – I’m sorry to add – has stuck. I can’t shake it off. Usually when I’m just ignoring what I’m going though, I sail through the day, and nothing bothers me. Usually, I fight it. But a few of the times when it does win, it wins by a wide margin.

And I come undone.

I’ve been to countless therapists. I’ve tried meditation. I’ve begged my Mum to hold me, when I cried, she never did. I’m an old bat, and I should handle myself. That’s what she said. It’s kind of unfair that everyone blames me and says I’m heartless, when they should be blaming my family instead. We do things the twisted way. There’s nothing uncomplicated about me, or us, and there never will be.

And I will keep pretending everything is just peachy, and go back to ranting about crap, trying to make other people laugh.

I’m golden. I’m golden.

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39 thoughts on “In My Shoes

  1. I feel the exact same way. Heck, I never even showed to my family about any of this because it’s just ridiculous to feel depressed in this family. I’m with you 😦 maybe you should try 7cupsoftea to have some listener when you want to rant. It helps me a lot.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. My husband deals with depression too. I don’t understand it cause I’ve never dealt with depression, but he knows I will always be a listening ear and a source of comfort for me. I know that alone helps me tremendously!

    Liked by 1 person

      1. I’m sorry to hear that! I’m sure you’ll find a guy one day that will be understanding and bring you comfort. They are hard to find, but they exist

        Liked by 1 person

  3. I’d lend you the therapist I’m going to with my husband.. But alas, the distance is too great. 😦
    Husband kinda feels the same way you do except that he has this whole “It’s all my fault, I have to adapt” issue going on. It’s annoying but if you meet the right person, maybe that’s when you’ll start finding bits and pieces of yourself again. -gives hug- Just give yourself a chance. ❤

    Liked by 1 person

      1. It’s a circle of self-blame.. It started in your childhood and it keeps on being triggered in a lot of situations.. If you don’t know where it comes from and why it happens then you can’t give it a place.
        I’m trying to teach my husband to stop saying sorry all the time and that mistakes are bound to happen but, not everyone is flawless. If we were, we’d be robots.

        Liked by 1 person

  4. I felt this way too, but I wouldn’t blame it on my family. Sure, maybe they wouldn’t understand if I had told them about it, but I can’t blame them. I wouldn’t understand either if I’d never felt that shit before.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. I feel as though it’s always the people who try to make others laugh who are the ones who need someone to make them laugh, or to make them smile. You’re not alone, Sooch!

    Liked by 1 person

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