Warning: very disorganized...thoughts that are more like emotions put to paper. Starts off happy and cute, but ends with some stuff that could trigger.

I bought some girl scout cookies today, not necessarily because I like thin mints, but because they were girl scout cookies. I was a girl scout from kindergarten to eighth grade, and until sixth grade, when my MH issues started to develop, it was one of the joys of my life. Every week, I got to spend a few hours just spending time with my friends, learning new things, and dreaming about the future. For a few years, my troop met in my elementary school's library. I used to pretend that it was Hogwart's library, and when the troop leader seemed to be droning on about something, I would glance over at the shelf meant for the teachers and pretend to wonder what advanced spells were described in them. Since both of my parents worked, one of my friend's mom would take me home. More often than not we would end up at my friend's house for a few hours of play. We'd mix weird spices together in water to make "soup", pretend to be olympic athletes, and if we got in a fight I never blamed myself for it, or questioned whether it would kill the friendship. I just took it for granted that I was an okay person, that other people could like me, and that I could enjoy spending time with others.

I spend a lot of time reflecting on my life, but it's usually on everything that has gone wrong...and this focusing on negative situations has gotten so much worse since I was dx-ed, as I've combed my life history for signs of depression, hypomania, and anxiety...just to be overwhelmed by just how much psychopathology I've been living with for so long!

Despite feeling somewhat better in the past few days, the past few hours have been fairly awful. I don't feel that there is any real purpose to my life, and I don't believe that there ever can (emphasis: can, not will!) be. Though I have somewhat more energy, I still haven't recovered the ability to really be interested in most forms of work and play. I remember how excited I got as a child over something like going rollerskating; now excursions of that type are nothing but a chore...and even if I felt like doing anything other than talk, sleep, and surf the internet, I wouldn't have anyone to do it with anyway. I don't even find romance enticing; I like the theory, but it fails in practice because lately I've not been attracted to anyone. Seriously, my last serious crush (serious= not just transference for my ex-therapist) was a year ago. Keep in mind that I'm a 20 yr old woman! And, if we lay crushes aside and focus on love...the only person I've cared for in that way that much married someone else about a half-year ago.

I want to live again. I don't feel alive like I used to. But I don't know how, and I fear that it's not possible because I have things that I can not sort through and am bored by most things that could distract me from them. I want to let go, but I can't because it would kill my family. They love me, and I love them too. Their fault is that they don't understand me or my illness, and that, along with my secretive nature, has built an emotional wall between us.

So I'm not alive and I cannot die...and I hate it!

I've just skimmed over this and realized how disconnected it all seems. Wish my thoughts were more organized. This is how I'm like in therapy, which I suspect is part of the reason why my therapist and I never get anything done...if you've read through this mess, which really belongs more in a personal journal, I suppose, thanks. I feel selfish for posting this, as it uses so many words to say nothing at all, but I feel like no one in my life understands me, except for all of you. And part of me really wants to share this with someone else.