Happy New Year
I watched a documentary based on the life of 65_redroses and it wasn't until the end of the movie that I realized that she was using LiveJournal as her blog, which inspired me to make this post.
I am guilty of getting wrapped up in my own life, my own circle of friends and activities that make it easy to forget about everything else that is going on in the world. I can't even wrap my brain around the idea of dying in my early 20's; sometimes I wonder if I had been diagnosed with CF what kind of person I would be. Certainly much more appreciative of the little things in life; I would still probably be a worrier, but my worries would be different.
I haven't gone back and read any of my old LJ posts in a long time. I have never been able to bring myself to delete this journal, though, because it contains a record of the person I was ten years ago. Being able to revisit your past self is a gift, I think. I have learned so much in ten years, come so far, yet in some ways I have barely changed at all.
I am not exactly where I saw myself being at 29, but I'm not beating myself up over it. Coping with my depression has been the biggest obstacle that has altered my life's path. I would love to say I beat depression, like beating cancer, but depression has no cure. Managing it is the best I can hope for. There are times when the idea of living with depression for the rest of my life is too much to bear, and I want so badly to end things and set myself free from the prison of my mind. But the guilt is too much, and I preserver, putting one foot in front of the other. Is this life?
I feel guilty for Jim, for Yuriy, and for anyone who has ever had to experience my wrath of misery. I crave profound love, but my language of love is different from everyone else's, and it becomes lost in translation. I feel like the world's loneliest whale who sings at the wrong frequency.
I feel like Jaina during the Vong war; she didn't love herself enough to want to save herself. All the love in the world isn't enough to save me from myself.
I am guilty of getting wrapped up in my own life, my own circle of friends and activities that make it easy to forget about everything else that is going on in the world. I can't even wrap my brain around the idea of dying in my early 20's; sometimes I wonder if I had been diagnosed with CF what kind of person I would be. Certainly much more appreciative of the little things in life; I would still probably be a worrier, but my worries would be different.
I haven't gone back and read any of my old LJ posts in a long time. I have never been able to bring myself to delete this journal, though, because it contains a record of the person I was ten years ago. Being able to revisit your past self is a gift, I think. I have learned so much in ten years, come so far, yet in some ways I have barely changed at all.
I am not exactly where I saw myself being at 29, but I'm not beating myself up over it. Coping with my depression has been the biggest obstacle that has altered my life's path. I would love to say I beat depression, like beating cancer, but depression has no cure. Managing it is the best I can hope for. There are times when the idea of living with depression for the rest of my life is too much to bear, and I want so badly to end things and set myself free from the prison of my mind. But the guilt is too much, and I preserver, putting one foot in front of the other. Is this life?
I feel guilty for Jim, for Yuriy, and for anyone who has ever had to experience my wrath of misery. I crave profound love, but my language of love is different from everyone else's, and it becomes lost in translation. I feel like the world's loneliest whale who sings at the wrong frequency.
I feel like Jaina during the Vong war; she didn't love herself enough to want to save herself. All the love in the world isn't enough to save me from myself.