I feel like I'm stuck with this body, this depression, this history. Today, the burden isn't so heavy, I can almost be nonchalant about it. But yesterday and the day before, I could hardly walk. My whole body hurt.
My readers, by now, have noticed that they have watched me go from an adapting evolving person to a very depressed person. I'm sorry. I didn't see it coming either. My doctor seems to believe this was triggered by the DNA review, the interviews with the media. This is not the first, but the worst of episodes. They progress and take on a life of their own. I've felt myself sliding into this abyss for over a year now, but I couldn't stop it. I tried. I didn't know where to go for help, and now I'm stuck in the bottom of this well.
I still have hope for my life..but I know that this is something you were born with. A gene existed, horrible things happen, this "illness" developed. I didn't do anything to deserve it, but it happened anyway.
I am angry a lot. I feel like I've tried to live a good "golden rule" sort of life, and I'm not getting all the good kharma from it.
I reach out, but sometimes people don't hear me. There was this Episcipalian Church I wanted to go to, but was nervous about the new situation. So I emailed them from their webpage with an email titled "Help, throw me a lifeline". When I wrote the email, I was crying.
I wrote that email a month ago, fully expecting that someone would call me or email me back. I was desperate because I felt my spirituality slipping through my fingers. I couldn't hear God's voice anymore, or maybe it was my conscious that I couldn't hear.
Nobody called.
I feel like maybe someday I am supposed to be this person who leads people to God. Not the vengeful God but the loving father that most of us have missed most of our lives. The one that understands and welcomes us and soothes us.
Maybe now I'm being tested. Sometimes I think that's what it is. My perceptions about God are different that these televangelists and cult leaders represent. I see God as the most benevolent being in our universe, all knowing and loving, and I dream sometimes that at the end of my life, that I go into that great big white and see him. And I lay my head down on his lap, and I cry. I cry because in this life, nobody ever really got me, and I cry because of the abuse, and the attack, and being motherless and fatherless and the dirty ugly child no one wanted.
And he soothes me. It is my reward for such an awful tortureous existance. And I am healed.
I'm not afraid of death. I'm afraid of painful death.
Death would allow me to hurt no more, and I could be with my mother, and Aunt Rachel, and God and Jesus.
I have a daughter to raise, and she's what keeps me alive. If I didn't have her, it would be different.
I'm tired of hurting, and crying, and being depressed.
12:28 p.m. - 2003-09-18
Recent entries:
What you missed - January 16, 2012
%%older_entries%%From hell - October 19, 2010
%%older_entries%%a rant from a few weeks ago - August 17, 2010
%%older_entries%%Tired - June 20, 2010
%%older_entries%%A beautiful lie - March 11, 2010
%%older_entries%%
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