I hate working. I quit my job because I can't keep forcing myself to do something that I hate so much. I've tried to explain this to people but the response is always something like, “I have days when I hate my job too, but I go anyway because I have to.” I understand their point of view. I used to be like them but I'm not any more, and that's what they don't understand.
Before the depression hit, my emotions guided me. I was pulled towards the things that I liked. I was repelled by the things that I didn't. It was simple.
I liked the friends I had. I liked talking to them. I liked making them laugh. We had mutual interests. It was all reciprocal. We spent time together because we liked it.
I did the things I did because I liked doing them. I liked watching movies. I liked playing video games. I liked writing songs. I was pulled toward those things because I liked them.
Similarly, I didn't do the things that I didn't like. I didn't play sports because I didn't like sports. I didn't play chess because I didn't like chess. I didn't hang out with the kids who weren't my friends because I didn't like them as much as I liked my friends. I was repelled by those things because I didn't like them.
I can remember days when I didn't want to go to school, or when I didn't want to do to my homework. But it was different then. At least then, there were things about school that I liked, like my friends, or there was something to look forward to once I'd finished my homework – TV, video games, whatever.
When the depression hit, all of a sudden, I didn't like anything. My internal compass was going round and round in circles. I had no drive, no impetus, because I didn't like anything, so I didn't gravitate toward anything, and I was repelled by everything.
It's been like that ever since.
Now I don't interact with the world based on what I like and dislike – which is what every sane person does – but rather based on what is bearable and what is unbearable. It's all bad, I can just tolerate some of it.
I don't feel bad about not having friends now because I know that that's more than I can handle. It's just too horrible for me, the process of making and keeping them. When I'm around people, I feel awful. I can't change that. I don't have to beat myself up over my reclusiveness now because I accept that I don't have any other choice.
I don't feel so guilty about not being able to work any more. I acknowledge and accept that work is more than I can bear. The challenge is convincing other people of that, trying to explain to people why that is.
I'm sure that what's happened to me can't be reversed. I've accepted my fate as best I can. I'm not looking for a cure, but rather to live a life that is bearable.
I've said it as well as I think I can say it, which is not very well. I did some drawings. I think they will make things clearer.
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