Venting My younger self would be so disappointed

[willitpass]

When I first became depressed around 9-11 I had so much hope. I thought it was just a blip in my time here on earth. I would journal in excitement about how much better I was doing and how I wasn't depressed. I was so hopeful about my future and truly believed things were okay. My first realization that this may just be my life was at 12. When I was 13 I had a journal entry that said "Sometimes when I'm writing shit like this I think about me reading this in 10 years and crying because I wish I had been able to see the light. Then I realize that I probably won't make it 10 years, and if I do I probably will still feel the same". I feel like I let myself down. The younger me with so much home. 13 year old me praying that maybe there was light down the road. Yet here I am. Still equally if not more fucked up than I was. Still feeling the same way. I wish I could tell my younger self there was hope to be had. I miss who I was before I lost hope. I can't even miss who I was before I got depression because I was so young I can't remember it. But I can remember what the hope felt like sometimes, and I wish I could be that little girl again. It made living another day feel worth it. Now every day is exhausting, painful, pointless. It hurts.

 

[Alexei_Kirillov]

This is exactly why the platitude "it gets better" can be so damaging, because having hope and then seeing it all come to naught is harder than not having hope at all; I know what you mean about reading back what you wrote when you were younger...the hardest entries to read aren't the ones where I'm in pain, they're the ones where I had hope.

 

[willitpass]

This is exactly why the platitude "it gets better" can be so damaging, because having hope and then seeing it all come to naught is harder than not having hope at all; I know what you mean about reading back what you wrote when you were younger...the hardest entries to read aren't the ones where I'm in pain, they're the ones where I had hope.

Before I quit therapy we had some sessions where we were processing through my old journals and I said that exact thing. The hardest journals were not the ones where I was spewing the same depressed, self deprecating, suicidal shit I still fill my journal with today, it was the ones where I wanted to be better. The ones where I worried if I was trying hard enough. If I was doing okay. If I was going to make a good life for myself. Because I was trying so, so hard. And I truly wanted to do better. I don't have that part of me anymore. I'm sorry she got lost to time.