How does one describe this feeling? It is as though my brain knows that what I feel is irrelevant. And irrational. Or as most would say, a choice. That I choose to feel this way. And I know it's true. But it is also untrue. Because how could this be something I have chosen. To feel as swallowed up and tossed about as I do. I would pick anything else.
I live my life trying my best to pretend that I'm ok. That none of the disappointments, shortcomings, hurts, betrayals, and indifferences matter. To see them as setbacks and, while unfortunate, something I am perfectly capable of moving past. Rationally, I abide by that notion. But all the while I feel like I might lose it. I feel permanently broken by life. Hurt consistently enough, that I feel beaten and cowed. Constantly anxious that I am not enough, that I do everything wrong, that I cant handle all that I am asked to handle; That one of these days I might reach to muster the force of will to move forward only to discover nothing there. I'm pretending to live. White knuckling my way through. And I am good at pushing forward even though every step pains me and causes the rising panic to spread further into the recesses of my soul. It feels a waste. I am a waste. So much wasted potential on a girl who cant make herself happy or loved. I keep searching and hoping something, anything will help. And I try to tell people. But words fall flat. And silence grabs hold of my throat. I never go far enough to explain. They never go far enough to understand what I'm trying to tell them. How does one say words that surely must just be a selfish indulgence? How do you explain what you know people don't really care to hear since it doesn't affect their own lives? How do you tell other people when everyone has problems and this is no more important to anyone just because it is your problem? Or explain to those who cant understand, even if they sympathize because they have not felt it? How do you explain something that shows just how much you are failing and shows your weaknesses for what they truly are - character flaws? Especially since nothing is wrong with my life.
On the surface there is nothing a matter. I'm educated. I have a loving family. I have friends. But I also feel completely and utterly alone with no one to share my true feelings with. I have so much good in my life though that admitting I feel so unhappy feels ungrateful. Selfish. I've tried occasionally to boldly express myself as plainly as I could muster. But to no avail. I keep hoping someone, anyone will notice I'm not ok. That they will care enough to see and hear past the exterior of being fine enough. To say more than cliched you'll be alrights, your time will come and keep pretending everythings great until it is. Or turn the conversation into a competition of who has it worse. Or try to helpfully fix me because my current state cannot be loved. That those who do notice will decide its not too much to support. That even if they believe I ought to be different, they'd love me as the flawed individual I am. But I expect too much. My life is a small blip on other people's lives. Insignificant. Irrelevant. Meaningless.
People tell me they're there for me. And I know they try their best. But most of the time I feel like they arent hearing what I'm trying to tell them. That my life, my true feelings are nothing more than a burden. Something that is too much to ask for. Because they are busy with their own lives and problems and who has the time or energy to deal with more than that. And nothing is the matter. Unless you count my feelings. But people tell me, for my negative feelings, I shouldn't. Because what matters to most is feigning a stiff upper lip and firm resolve. And keeping all the messy rest to yourself so as to not wallow.
The worst is that I don't blame them. Because really, feeling unhappy in my life only goes to show how self-indulgent to my own whims I can be. What do my feelings matter? Especially since I ought to be picking them. Being happy in the situation you find yourself in and other garbagey cliched sentiments.
And yet I'm not. I'm lost. Lost in a life I have no reason not to enjoy and yet I don't enjoy. I can't even remember the last time I felt a true, lasting amount of joy. A joy not tainted by fear. Not during dental school. Not during undergrad. Not during high school or junior high or elementary school. Maybe I really just don't know how to even be joyful. Not the same way other people are. Maybe I am not built for the same capacity of emotions.
People tell me that someday someone will love me for just who I am. But I doubt it. The people who love me now only love me when I am holding back. When they don't hear whats going on inside my head. People don't love broken people who don't function right. That only have brief moments of joy. No one would pick that struggle - to love someone who is so terrified that the constant feeling and thought that she is unlovable is true. I do this to myself. I try not to believe it. I try to trust but no effort is ever enough. Because I am not enough.
My life has not been any harder than anyone else's. I, like everyone, have had hard things and good things happen. I'm unique, just like everyone else and therefore, like I once had explained, so ordinary in my personal uniqueness that it makes me no more special or important than anyone else. Because it happened to me doesn't make it any more relevant or devastating. Other people have it worse. The difference is me. My ability to cope. My ability to function. My own self importance in my own story. I should care less. Who cares how I feel? Who cares where I go or what I do? As long as I don't make a fuss or bother other people. As long as I keep the act of being fine going and maintain my responsibilities, it doesn't matter what I do or how I feel.
Sometimes panic races through me and I feel as though I can't breath. My heart races and feels as though it will beat through my chest. I will fall short. I will let people down. Everyone will be mad at me. I hate having people mad at me.
I can't stand knowing that its irrational to think that way and knowing that I am genuinely fearful that it is true. I know I'm not ok. But I honestly cannot help myself enough and I don't know how to ask for help. I don't even know who could help me. Because every time I try, my brain tells me I'm making a big deal out of nothing and some petty life unsatisfaction is normal and fine. That if I voice how I truly feel I will get yet another speech on making the best with what I have, trusting God more and how good I really have it and how my negativity is really just my personal selfishness showing through. That I am horribly self centered. Ungrateful. Pessimistic. That to be unhappy is to be selfish and ignore what duty and responsibility I must deal with first.
People might try to assume that there is some deep seated unresolved issues; Some traumatic events from my past. And of course I have a list, though realistically probably no worse than anyone else. But more than any specific event, it is life in general that galls at my subconscious. It is me in the specific that is the problem.