I have never felt like an adult. When I see women my age now aI get intimidated because I don’t feel like them.
As an adult woman, you get hit with so many images of what you should be, what you should look like, and how many things you should have accomplished. Those marks always seemed unimportant to me. Never had an interest in working all my life, to pay for a building you never really own, to buy a bunch of stuff to make someone else richer.
Now, I do have a bad habit of emotional shopping but we can discuss that later.The idea of the white picket fence and a husband with a dog…not my thing. So what is my thing? what do I want exactly? Or better yet, what should I want?
I have to figure this shit out. Constantly searching for happiness can make you actually feel lower. I have come to realize that I have been stuck in a depressive cycle since 2007 with brief moments of happiness. Throwing things to the wall and seeing what sticks, and getting no results. The “happiness” feeling doesn’t last.
I cannot find a definition of what I am feeling or experiencing. There is nothing to compare it to as this is a new chapter of life. I should be living, and not becoming a hermit as I get older. You discover so much of yourself when your alone with yourself. I want to be happy but I don’t know what happiness is. I know pain, suffering, rejection, shame, and self-hate. I have gotten so familiar with it, we became an abusive couple with only me in the relationship.
Many nights were spent cuddling with suffering, making it my home. It has protected me in a world that made me its victim. (How dramatic was that?!)
So what am I going to hold on to now that I have no reason to be afraid, scared, ashamed, and all the paranoia of fabricated judgment? I’m still searching for me.