I’m ashamed to write that I am massively depressed.
I wish it would stop.
It started before I went to New York. It got progressively worse afterwards.
I worry when I feel like this.
I’m sober and I know that this is a good thing.
But my mind makes me feel like a failure even though.
I’m tired of struggling with things I feel that I should not be struggling with.
I’m tired of the hopeless feeling that follows me around waiting to sabatoge every good thought.
There is no one to talk to about it.
I’m trying to stay strong for my kids.
Really I’m dying inside and I wish that I wasn’t so weak.
I had to write something because the shame of it all is eating me alive.
I’m hoping now that I’ve admitted it openly, it’ll start to go away.
It’s hard and scary to admit that I still have times when I’m not in control of my feelings.
I want to be proud of myself, but really I just feel alone.