tphillips117
Silver Member
I have been married for 10 years to a man that really is my best friend. We almost never argue, he tries his best to make me happy and give me what I want and need. We have three kids together and they really are awesome! I feel honored and privileged every day for the opportunity to raise them. We own our home, we have two cars bought and paid for. We have no financial worries. It's really a dream life....
And I hate it! You heard me right, I hate my life. Sounds crazy, I know, but it's true. I have nothing to feel happy about because every emotion is clouded by this unexplainable darkness that literally sucks away any happiness and joy in my life. Every smile, laugh, wonder and amazement come at a price of this almost unbearable pit in my stomach.
I've been diagnosed with PTSD, I'm in denial about it, really. I've also been diagnosed with moderate major depression, and I'm in denial about that too. It's not that I don't think anything is wrong, quite the opposite, it's that I don't want to use these diagnoses as an excuse for feeling so terrible sometimes.
I see a therapist once a week. He's really a great guy, very sweet, very kind, smiles a lot. I'm sure some people look forward to therapy--I dread it like a funeral. My heart sinks whenever I walk into that office. "Tell me your thoughts and feelings" he says. "I don't have any", I reply, proceeded by us sitting there for 5 agonizing minutes (I'm sure it's not that long, but it feels like it) staring at each other until he caves and finally speaks, putting me out of my misery.
I'm stressed out to say the least! I try to hide it. I think I do a pretty good job. I'm on edge every minute. I'm not sure what I'm so afraid of, but I think it's safe to say, that its everything. I have a lot to lose now, and I know at any second it's all going to come crashing down. I'm not afraid of the "worst" happening, I'm afraid that I won't be prepared enough for it. I'm like a doomsday prepper of sorts.
On the 30th, I'm taking my conceal carry pistol permit class. I have a love of guns. I have this insatiable need to protect myself and my children. I NEED a gun...my brain tells me that. But I have a confession, what if in my severely depressed moment of weakness, I look at this pistol as an "option"? That scares the crap out of me. Or worse, what if I'm so hyped up on adrenaline and mistake one of my children for an intruder? Just the mere mention of it, makes me gasp. But the fear I have tells me I must have a gun to be safe. I'm scared to own one and terrified to not have it if I need it.
I'm screwed up. I feel fundamentally flawed. I know I see this world very differently than everyone else. I don't belong here. I feel as certain about that as I am the fact that I have brown eyes. I'm confused, I'm sick inside. No one knows that because I hide everything about me. I want to live and I want to die. I hate my life. I hate me.
And I hate it! You heard me right, I hate my life. Sounds crazy, I know, but it's true. I have nothing to feel happy about because every emotion is clouded by this unexplainable darkness that literally sucks away any happiness and joy in my life. Every smile, laugh, wonder and amazement come at a price of this almost unbearable pit in my stomach.
I've been diagnosed with PTSD, I'm in denial about it, really. I've also been diagnosed with moderate major depression, and I'm in denial about that too. It's not that I don't think anything is wrong, quite the opposite, it's that I don't want to use these diagnoses as an excuse for feeling so terrible sometimes.
I see a therapist once a week. He's really a great guy, very sweet, very kind, smiles a lot. I'm sure some people look forward to therapy--I dread it like a funeral. My heart sinks whenever I walk into that office. "Tell me your thoughts and feelings" he says. "I don't have any", I reply, proceeded by us sitting there for 5 agonizing minutes (I'm sure it's not that long, but it feels like it) staring at each other until he caves and finally speaks, putting me out of my misery.
I'm stressed out to say the least! I try to hide it. I think I do a pretty good job. I'm on edge every minute. I'm not sure what I'm so afraid of, but I think it's safe to say, that its everything. I have a lot to lose now, and I know at any second it's all going to come crashing down. I'm not afraid of the "worst" happening, I'm afraid that I won't be prepared enough for it. I'm like a doomsday prepper of sorts.
On the 30th, I'm taking my conceal carry pistol permit class. I have a love of guns. I have this insatiable need to protect myself and my children. I NEED a gun...my brain tells me that. But I have a confession, what if in my severely depressed moment of weakness, I look at this pistol as an "option"? That scares the crap out of me. Or worse, what if I'm so hyped up on adrenaline and mistake one of my children for an intruder? Just the mere mention of it, makes me gasp. But the fear I have tells me I must have a gun to be safe. I'm scared to own one and terrified to not have it if I need it.
I'm screwed up. I feel fundamentally flawed. I know I see this world very differently than everyone else. I don't belong here. I feel as certain about that as I am the fact that I have brown eyes. I'm confused, I'm sick inside. No one knows that because I hide everything about me. I want to live and I want to die. I hate my life. I hate me.