I’m not depressed. I’m unhappy.
When you’re depressed, life seems futile. When you’re unhappy, life seems constricting.
I want Will to love me. I want to love him. All these years, he’s asked me to accept his kind of love. What he DOES he DOES because he loves me. “Why isn’t that enough?” he wants to know.
14 years of pretending his kind of love is all there is has become too much to bear. Pretending I don’t deserve to be loved the way I want to be loved is killing me.
He tells me that I’m “spoiled and don’t even know it.” No – he’s spoiled.
Everything is on HIS terms. Everything I do is working around him. All I’ve got is a half-hearted promise that one day this marriage can be “all about me.” Even then, I have to live in his hermit house.
So, I can have anything I want (including his love?) in about fifteen years so long as I want a secluded house on secluded property far far away from everything and everyone else.
God! I have been living on my own little island long enough to know that plan sucks!
Also, when you’re Depressed, there is absolutely “no way out.” When you’re unhappy, it’s clear that there is a way to be happy – you just have to think it through and find a way. Unhappiness is filled with the possibility of being happy again.
So now – what do I do? I’m angry. I’m sad. I’m feeling betrayed. I feel stuck. I feel unsupported. I feel unloved. I feel ignored. I feel squashed after being shoo-ed away. I feel lonely. I feel afraid. I feel disregarded. I feel disrespected. I feel run over. I feel alone, but not in a good way. I feel isolated.
Why do I cry when I look into my eyes in the mirror? Is this really what I’m meant to be? Is this really what life means? Is there really no end?