I am beginning to wonder if there is really a difference between boredom and depression. Maybe acute boredom causes depression or maybe there is no depression, just stagnant feelings because you can’t do what you want to do, or you want to do what you shouldn’t do. Or you just don’t know what to do because it has been so long since you did anything besides work and take care of the house that now you are in this silly rut. Granted it doesn’t explain the years of sad feelings but if you had a sad life to begin with I guess the feelings are supposed to be part of it all. But the doctors and the media and the rest of the collective “they” all say that you aren’t supposed to feel this or that so we automatically think that what we are feeling is bad and therefore we should go seek some mental help. Well… Ok some of us should, there are the other ones that just can’t seem to find anyone who has the time for them. And that of course would be me… I tried for awhile to call shrinks and all those other people that are supposed to help you put things in order and none of them had the time to see me unless I could miss work to go see them. Which of course means that I end up losing money so in the end I am just more stressed out then I was before and so I decided to give up that quest and just deal with things as I always have. Alone :P My recent problems… Mostly emotional. I have always been a person who is generally ruled by their emotions when I choose to have them. I have always had low self-esteem, thought I wasn’t pretty enough, smart enough, you name it. No matter how much people reassure me that I am not correct about myself I can’t seem to get it into my head that what I feel may be a product of my younger years and less about what is happening now in my life. There is no real boundary line between what I was and who I am. Everything is so meshed together that I don’t think I could feel one without feeling the other. Recently at a work dinner little things about my life came into the conversation at dinner, now I pride myself for being pretty secretive about who I am to the people I have to work with, or friends that I have. I know that probably isn’t productive but I am always afraid that if these people knew where I came from, or what I came from then half of them wouldn’t talk to me cause they wouldn’t know what to say. The other half wouldn’t talk to me because I would be disgusting to them or they would just be ashamed or feel sorry for me. So for the most part no one really knows what goes on with me; or if they do they don’t know the real stories of why. I put on this image of being calm and collected someone who can pull rabbits out of the hat when needed, quiet unless the conversation is something that I really do know about. If I think it is going to make me sound stupid or I don’t feel like my words are welcome I would much rather just listen to everyone else talk instead of leaving looking like a fool. Anyway… after the dinner conversations about some of my “silly” experiences I started to ask myself why it is that I run so fast from conversations about me? Why is it that when I talk about anything “real” in my past I automatically feel like I have done something wrong, like I let out a secret that shouldn’t have been shared? Even something silly like a story of some stupid thing my sisters and I did as kids. Then it hit me that for the most part there are 2 reasons… #1 I spend so much time and energy running from my past with this feeling that if I stop for one second it will catch me and god help me if it ever does. #2 I don’t feel as if I have a right, who am I to bore people with stories? The people I work around all come from good lives; they have good homes and good families. I am just someone passing through, some little piece of used up trash that will in time get kicked aside anyway. I am just an illusion, probably to myself as well as everyone else. They are all convinced I am some strong person, with a kind heart because I was just made that way. What they don’t see is that the strong woman is the illusion, if for one moment I show my weakness to them I will crumble and then everything I worked so hard for will be gone. I will end up back in the gutter where I was thrown as a child and my castle in the clouds that I have been dreaming of for so long will be gone and so far out of reach that the dream won’t even be possible again. As for the kind heart, it has cost me a lot in the past. I don’t know if I would classify it as a kind heart or a weak one. I would help anyone but mostly because I hate to have to see anyone suffer. I like to make people smile and laugh because it makes me feel good to do so. Not because I have to, but because that is just me. Of course some people in the past have used that to their advantage and each time a thicker skin gets built around that heart and it is almost to the point where I have no problem letting out things, I am just forgetting how to let them in. Everyday I wake up wondering if today will be the day that I give up and can't go on anymore. If today is the day that I break. Not one moment goes past where I don't worry that I am not what I think I am and that this is all a dream anyway. That I will wake up and find out that all my fears are what I am truely living. But then I realize that I can't give up, who am I to think I have the right to just lay down and die? To take away the right of so many other people to kick me around when need be. This is my life... This is the way it always has been and the way it always will be. Thankfully though there are some good things to get me through the rest.

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