No promises of rose gardens

Sometimes I write something on here venting or airing pain, but then the hours and days go by and my partner and/or friends and I calm down and things don’t look quite as troubling. So I delete those messages and try to move on. Still have problems though. Such is life.

We talk and talk and talk, but all the talking in the world can’t undo the past. We’ve long-since figured that out.

I’ll admit something on here tonight that perhaps won’t be deleted by tomorrow. I am a depressed individual, stemming back many years. The causes are fairly apparent and yet the remedy is not. Some months are harder than others, and my means of handling it can at times push people away, which then just sets up a vicious circle. People say that long-term depression gets hardwired in a person’s brain and creates these closed loops in the way we think and obsess, and I certainly understand how that goes. The hardest part is figuring out how to break the chain and release oneself. Some say cognitive-behavioral therapy has the best chances of addressing this way of being, and I have looked into it a bit, but so far nothing has substantially helped. Over time I’ve come to believe this is just the way I am and the way my life will remain, and that in itself is a depressing thought, because I am very tired and worn down, and by being so I can wear my loved ones down sometimes too.

But as with nearly everything, there’s a silver lining to my character as well. Not all is lost and not all is dark. Sometimes people lose patience with me, and oftentimes I lose patience with myself, but I am not heartless. Living as a sensitive person is challenging in this day and age, to say the least, and while it sometimes feels like a severe handicap in a society that prizes goal-oriented action over emotional substance, my orientation allows me to see all the ways in which pain pays forward and forces upon me the realization that love is key in answering this dilemma.

Life inherently involves suffering. That’s just the way it goes. My primary concern is holding on to those I love who also love me, because without them nothing else matters. And I know the best gift I could someday give them would be for me to get stronger and healthier to where I can be their rock when needed as well. And I’m working on it. Never planned on so much feeling like an uphill battle, but who would plan on that being so? Such is life. The only rose gardens in existence are those we help cultivate.

It’s not easy coming to grips with so much shame and guilt, plenty of which one never bargained for. Sometimes we’re just born into it and take on the weight from those who brought us here. I’d like to think there comes a point where I can lay it down and walk away from it, accepting that it wasn’t mine to bear to begin with. And I have to find that point and figure this out, because I’m very very tired of struggling with past demons and ghosts that never deserved this much time and attention. As life goes on and one grows older, we create our own mistakes and wind up burdened with guilt brought on by our own doings, and that’s heavy enough on its own.

What tends to make things doubly hard is feeling alone in this sort of thing, surrounded by people who do not relate. It can make a person feel like a freak, or worse. But that’s all I care to share tonight.


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