I had a sad laugh today, because I had been working on this long post (way longer than this one ) to outline my problems and ask for advice, and when I read it through I was like... "Oh geez. I sound like a spoiled little boy whining because his new sneakers got wet in the rain."

I felt stupid and ashamed that my problems were even something I felt the need to share and needed help with. And it got me wondering how often group therapy/forum use has actually been counterproductive for people because of the "You think you have it bad ... ?" factor.

Yes, I get that the contrast between one's own position and something worse, and the resulting feeling that, "Maybe it's not so bad" can be helpful in relieving some of the stress and anxiety associated with our problems, at least for the moment.

But the flip side of that is that we just end up holding our tongue because "They'll laugh at me" or "They'll think I'm just being stupid."

So my mind ran through all that, and then I got angry because, "What the hell? I might have: a room to live out of, half as much debt as that person, actually had a relationship once upon a time (12 years ago), (divorced) parents who did not physically or sexually abuse me, two friends, a college degree, and I'm not suicidal, self-harming, or feel like life is not worth living ...

"BUT I'm still really ****ing miserable!"

I truly haven't felt genuinely happy once in the last five years. Aside from a period of traveling after I lost my job in 2007 -- during which I blew all the money I saved up from the previous five years -- I don't know that I've had a happy memory that isn't just me being happy for someone else since college (I turn 35 this week, and graduated in 2002).

I'm so defeated over trying and failing that even trying anymore (in whatever aspect of life) has me physically shaking.

My life feels like some cosmic experiment in negative reinforcement: "How many times can we zap him before he learns to stop pressing the lever?"

I feel like a lab mouse shaking as I tentatively reach up to push it, with a microscopic sliver of hope that this time some sugar water will come out, only to get another ZZZZZAP!!!!!!!!!!

I've put on my "happy face" for so long that it's, like, permanently stuck to me. But underneath the mask ....

The need to "fake it" it to not let my unhappiness poison my life even more has made me even more bitter and resentful. And I'm not sure I can not fake it anymore, and that's really disturbing to me.

I think about what I would act like if I spoke to a therapist, and I realized that I would be like I was around everyone else: I'd smile and nod and say "Okay" when they said something because I've trained myself to always act like I empathize. I'd politely thank them and tell them I thought I was feeling better, because I didn't want to make them feel like they weren't helping me.

And when I left I'd feel stupid for the same reason at the top of the post, because my problems are peanuts compare to those of his/her other patients.

And now I'm feeling ashamed about being angry about feeling ashamed. Just ....

Don't get me wrong. I don't at all feel like my problems are worse than anyone else's here. I think it's really amazingly crappy that people are going through them. Because I know how awful I feel, and to imagine what their despair must feel like ... I hurt for them. I've had family experience despair that caused them to end their life, and another to try many times, and I in no way mean to put myself on their level. I just ... want to feel happy sometimes. For myself.