I keep on thinking that I have no right to be depressed. I mean, all in all, I have a good life. I have a wonderful husband, I live in a beautiful house with a view of the forest and I see the most amazing birds and animals each day.
And yet, I am still depressed. And there are people out there in much worse situations than me. People dealing with real issues and real losses – people whose lives have been shaken apart by earthquakes.
And yet, I still feel this hollowness. I keep having flashbacks to the horrible bullying I endured as a child – both at the hands of my mother and at the hands of my classmates. I know what my mother did was not her fault. But it doesn’t make it better. I battle to open up and trust people. I still don’t believe that anyone can truly love me. Anyone who does must not really know me. I mean, how can they. If my mother didn’t want me and made me feel unloved – surely she saw something that no one else could. I must be a monster. People would only treat me the way I was treated…would hit me and tease me and taunt me and terrorize me…if I deserved it.
Surely what happened to me, must have happened to me for a reason…and I must have brought it on myself. Because if I didn’t then…why?
And it is in the past – so why do I keep having flashbacks to it? Why do I remember so vividly being so violently and repeatedly assaulted by another kid in my class? A series of assaults that I never even began to hope would end.
And then one day, an angel acted, and spoke up for me. Someone else witnessed what was going on and told the teacher. We went to the headmistresses office and there were no consequences for the person who assaulted me…and the school kept what happened from my parents. So that years later, when I eventually told them I was called a liar.
Surely, all of this means that I deserved it. And if I deserved to be treated that way when I was a kid – not yet a teenager. I must deserve that suffering now.
And what hope do I have for happiness? And how do I just let go of the fracken past? Why can’t I just release it.
But I have to believe that it is possible for me to achieve happiness. That somewhere in me, there is a part of me that can fight for happiness and win.
But yet I also have to fight to believe that I am not destined to be a loser and a whipping girl. But it is difficult. So difficult, because it means that I have to accept that sometimes there is no real reason.
And people can be cruel without meaning to, or thinking of the consequences. And that just because bad things have happened to me, doesn’t me that I am destined to be miserable and to live in a dark hole.
That I can fight my way out of this. That I have the strength to do so. That I can triumph and live with this. That I can tame my black dog.