The Wrong Life

Sometimes in therapy I learn something about myself that seems so new, or I get a brilliant new perspective or I see something I hadn't seen clearly before. I guess that's why going to therapy remains worth it. (Besides that whole life ring while I'm drowning in depression thing, of course.) Moments like that bring into sharp focus how for quite a few years I learned nothing new in therapy.

In my mind, I sometimes try to "re-do" my past, think that I can somehow "fix" things. I know it isn't rational: I'm not going to be able to make my family be alive again or change any of a number of other past traumas. But emotionally I feel as if I can do so if only I do it right.

People define themselves differently. In many places in the world, people define themselves by their place within their community. The Navaho people define themselves by their family connections. LIke the Navaho, so did I. Without my family, I feel cut off, I feel like there are huge gaping holes inside me that nothing can fill.

This is not how my life should be. I wanted to marry and have children: I would have made a terrific wife and mother. I am nurturing and loving and giving. The fact that no one ever wanted to marry me has long made me feel there is something wrong with me. I see so many people who have lifelong relationships, people who don't seem to have the qualities I have, people who are takers or who are high-maintenance, and I have to wonder what is wrong with me that no one wanted what I have to give.

My brother was supposed to be my friend when we grew up. He was supposed to be here with me after our parents died. Our children would have been friends and we would have spent a lot of time together.

Instead I am alone. I have no family of my own. I know that my friends will say "No, that's not true, you have us! We are your family!" Unfortunately, that's really not true. I love my friends and they love me, but I am not part of their families.

My parents, my brother, and I were a unit. While there were problems — such as my having been molested, or the fact that my parents really had no idea what to do with a highly intelligent, highly creative child — we were pretty damned close to being that storybook nuclear family. We were very close. We loved and knew we were loved. We played board games and went bowling and spent most of our time together. We liked being together. We belonged to each other.

I no longer belong to anyone and no one belongs to me. I am not part of a unit. My friends all have their own families, their own units and I am not truly inside them. I am simply a friend.There is a distance.

One of my greatest fears is that I will be old and alone, with no one to care for me or about me. Whether I'm living independently or in a "retirement home", I don't see anyone coming to see me, coming to spend time with me.

Maybe there will be cats.

I don't see how it can be different. I am not made to be alone. I am made to love and be loved, to nurture and be nurtured. I am highly affectionate and I have had to shunt that part of me away because it hurt too much to have that need and endure it not being met.

i would love to have a partner, whether we married or not. It would be great if he had grown children, getting married and having children of their own who considered me their grandma. It would be wonderful if he had a big family, with siblings and nephews and nieces and possibly even parents still alive. In this daydream, they take me in and consider me part of the family, make me part of their unit. I just don't see it happening.

This is not the life I wanted. This is not the life I expected. Yes, I now all the stuff about how I should make the best of my life, other people's lives are worse, blah blah blah. None of that matters. What matters is that I am sad and I am alone and I don't see any way to make my life full and happy and satisfying. I don't have a family. I don't see that changing. Cats are not going to be enough.

I'm sure there are things I want to do, and maybe I can do them. I'd like to have my own house again, with a yard where I can make a garden. I can spend time with my friends. I can take yoga and tai chi and maybe some art classes. Learn to play the piano. But all that together isn't going to fill me up. It can distract me, it can fill up time. But it doesn't meet my deepest needs.

I think that's why I still think of dying sometimes. If I died, I wouldn't hurt anymore. I wouldn't be alone, I wouldn't be lonely. I wouldn't be on the outside looking in.

I've been in therapy a long time. I've read a lot of self-help stuff. I know that I'm not supposed to want to die. I know I'm supposed to be able to find fulfillment on my own. But I am who I am. I need what I need. I feel what I feel. I'm not actually trying to hold onto pain. I'd really rather not hurt like this.

Michele said maybe there is something different to think about. I'm not sure what she meant because our time was up. I would like to be happy: if I didn't care or didn't want to, I wouldn't keep putting the time and money into therapy and working on myself and my life. Maybe she'll have some ideas next week. Something new. I just want to stop hurting. I just want to be happy.