I feel so empty, all of the time. Is this what adulthood is supposed to feel like? Is it supposed to feel this isolating, this terrifying, this lonely? There is not a moment that goes by anymore where I am not berating myself for making the wrong choices which led me to where I am. I should be grateful that I have a roof over my head and a family to live with, but I'm not. I want out. I want a different life -- my own life. I spent all these years making choices in an attempt to please others even though doing so often made me miserable in return, and where did it get me? What have I gained by trying to make other people happy? Where are all those people now?
If I wasn't so mentally fucked up, I could have so much more than I do. I'm nothing but a waste of potential. I know diverse and lovely people, and thanks to them I have had the opportunity to experience some really amazing moments. Even though 2010 was my "lost year", so to speak, because I spent it being a mess with my ex, I still had friends who had no problem letting me back into their lives once I decided to try to get my shit together and re-enter the world. I really didn't deserve that much kindness and I blew it with a lot of people by not making enough of an effort in the end. Or, by being a straight up asshole and not appreciating them at all. I just wasn't ready, truthfully. It's hard to go from barely socializing at all outside of your significant other and family, to socializing like a normal person. But I did it to myself and now I get to deal with the pitfalls.
It's been a year and a half now of me trying to transition back into the world, and I struggle every day. Every time I go out, I find myself having to hide in the bathroom for a few minutes just so I can get my hands to stop shaking. However, being at home no longer brings me a sense of safety and peace like it used to. Instead, being at home feels like a prison. Sometimes when I'm in bed at night, I find myself randomly bursting into tears because I find living here to be that painful. I know this will sound so horrible but I just hate living with my family anymore. I love my mom more than anyone else in the world and I always will, sans my future children if I even have any (eh...), but we are just completely different people. Her and my uncle are content living simple lives and I'm just... not. At all. My uncle hasn't even had a friend since he was, god, maybe in this twenties? Thirties? And he's 66 years old now. He just doesn't care for people, and even though I also find humanity in general to be rather shit, I still have this need to connect with others. I hate the idea of being absolutely alone, so to see my mom and uncle live such lonely lives really upsets me. I know it is their choice in the end, but I feel sort of sucked into that same life by default. I'm afraid I am going to end up like them: alone, cranky, high strung, miserable, and never living the life I truly wanted. I mean, all of those things apply to me already. I want so much more for them both but it isn't up to me to save them, I realized. Not that I could anyway. I can't even save myself, it seems.
I miss being able to have idealistic hopes. These days, I am so cynical and pessimistic that I can't even bother to dream of anything beyond what my life currently is. I feel like I've aged twenty years in the last two years. I am really stressed out about bills and not having enough money for things like dental care or college or a car. I am sick of public transit. I feel like I live my entire life at the mercy of someone else's schedule. I am sick of so many, many things. I know it could all be worse, I know. And even though things in my life were never really simple, in retrospect, they were at least simpler than they are now, and I miss that. I really can't believe how many things I took for granted. I just want to be happy and healthy and free. Why is that so difficult to achieve? What is wrong with me?
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