On My Mind
Do you ever get really sick of trying? I know I do, and I know that I do very often. My friend, Desi, gets it because she too is so sick of trying. And so sick of being sick. When I speak to (at) my therapist, I feel like I am in a dimly lit room completely alone, yet still hearing my voice tell my things I already know. I don’t want to face the voice; I am already aware that it is there. I want someone to be a voice of reason. Sound, logical reason. I don’t believe my therapist is that person. I can’t express myself fully because of fear of rejection or judgement. Aren’t people supposed to feel freer about these emotions when going to therapy. I’ve seen my therapist 3 times! Shouldn’t I feel a difference in my emotions toward her? A trust? A bond? Shouldn’t I feel like it’s making a difference that I’m seeing her? Shouldn’t I feel like it even matters? Something is wrong on the inside. I can feel it resting in my gut... nestled in my soul. I want to feel happy and hopeful about life, but I also don’t. That’s depression, right? The inability to fight the demons within because they make you think you need them. And don’t I? I’ve always had them with me, they are so familiar, and they don’t make me want to end my life... yet. I just want to give up. I just want to give up because I am so sick of trying.
