A few confessions.

So it is confessional time I suppose. We're all due occasionally either in the church of our minds or spirit to admit our flaws, or even simply state something we're hesitant to discuss. In some cases, we're trying to free ourselves of unwanted memories and/or images that pervade the waking world, and it's never an easy task as in my case, those memories have a tangible hold on me as real as if they were in the room.

I'm just not feeling better. I thought I should be, would be, at this point. I thought I would be able to outlast the depression and basically emerge reforged into something I'm not nor will be. I thought ultimately that I would not be dragged down in the hellish idea of self-worthlessness and a feeling of utter despondency that most depression leads to. I thought for a while it wouldn't last as long as it has, but it's entering a solid decade, and I can't seem to do more than alleviate it.

I'm used to having self-doubt, and at the same time, getting up every morning and forcing myself to be focused. There is no doubt what I could accomplish if I didn't have this on my back, because I've been able to keep on my feet this entire time, through the issues with loss and the painful issues of my past. I've just begun to realize I'm not actually moving forward, I'm not moving, and while some would see this as better than the alternative, I don't.

So, this is my confession.

I suffer from severe depression, and paired with a killer memory, means I relive every fight, every moment of pain, every taunt, every wrong decision, and every repressed moment of anger in my life. I remember bullies from when I was five. I remember failing to tell a teacher I failed a test in 8th grade. I remember hurting the woman I loved and having to embarrassingly tell her I was dating someone else. I remember being mocked, punched, and made to feel so small that I would have gladly disappeared if it were possible. I remember being made to feel insecure by the people I loved the most, and I remember the pain in learning that effectively, my real father went on with his life, and that even my youngest half-sister has had more time with him than I ever did or will. I remember being beaten by groups of children, just enough to cause me to cry out, and not enough to put me in the doctor's office. I remember the terrible rage that blotted out memory and ultimately, the sorrow I felt for beating someone so bad and wanting them to die. I remember that terrible Tuesday in which I had to go find my pet cat, dead, after the kids at middle school taunted me with it. I remember 'getting sick' at school in order to leave, and then being forced to do things to get sick. I remember being left behind, picked last, forced to give up the things I loved, and ultimately, being told 'That's just how life is'. I remember being a dumbass when I had a massive allergic reaction to something and taunting the kids in the class who were responsible, because I knew I had them by the balls. I remember costing my friend something he wanted most of all, and did so out of spite. I remember scaring Erik and being thoughtless, and the arguments with his mother in which things were said that can never, ever be unsaid. I remember my stepdad, laying there, holding my hand and not really with me, the morphine clouding his ability to see, and that he told me he loved me for one of the first times. I remember trusting people in Baltimore, having them turn my trust inside out purely for spite and because it was "fun". I remember being on the floor of a hotel bathroom during an event that I wanted to be part of, wanting desperately not to be so alone in the world and finding out I was. I remember thinking I would be an author by now, a real author, but lacking the fire or ability to make it happen. I remember all of this and more, and it's hard to see past it sometimes.

The regrets, the pain, and the rage mix together. I try to push them back until I choke, and sometimes I am successful or marginally able to. Today, it's just harder than most, and there is no reason for it. I'm hoping to master this, to somehow gain better handles so I don't feel this way all the time, and sometimes I do...but...the memories don't go away.

I'm just in a funk. Ignore me.

More Later.