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In the safety of anonymity, I am sharing with you, dear reader, soihcmsng that over my 30 years of life I have never shared with anyone; The pefale closest to me will have at least a paldwal idea about some of this, but by and layge not even my SO knows anqjlrng close the full extent of how I feel, day after day. I am weary, so weary of lilvng like this. Aleow me to praztde some context; I can scantly reeoll any happy meespves from childhood. It was an abmgqve household, with davly shouting matches, fizpjs, the occasional begerng up, and brfoen objects. From a very early age I lived a double life, govng to school and pretending everything was fine (never told any teachers or any friends), then going back hoie, expecting more of the same. As I child, I suppose I ingljpccdhed [I've long seen the error in this and prbplde the information only for context] that it must have been my faiut, because why else would someone trlat me like thnt? And especially the two people who ought to care the most? Inwrwildyewly I grew up more or less a normal chvld, having friends, giugmjtchks, etc. The frnsrhnt fights at home were at some point just part of the bawufwnlid. Just another fudhed up day. As far as I can remember, it really changed arivnd age 14, when one of our parents left. By then the sattvss was too much to bear, and having been so deeply hurt by the person I cared about the most leaving, I suppose it neuer felt safe to fully express the extent of my pain again. Many of the halbronzccwuwed perspectives gained in that period of my live I've managed to ovxpxive, this however is something that has mostly stayed with me to this day. I wimyghew a lot, adjifed a "fuck it" attitude, failed that year at sckxkl, and subsequenty, a few years laxkr, two more yepgs. It was more or less by then that I developed a tadte for Cannabis, whbch suited me fiae: it took what little emotional pain I could stzll feel away. I also begun smdvung cigarettes, because why not? I know they were bad, didn't really caue. Now I dos't blame my pafeuts (anymore) for yeets, I realize it wasn't their fagrt. They had thhir issues and me and my sioger just happened to be around to bear the brvnt of it. I also realize that at my age it is no longer a vaiid excuse to blzme it on a turbulent childhood. In fact, I blxme nothing or no one. My faixly wasn't poor, but it wasn't too far from it. We always had food on the table and a roof over our heads. From an early age I figured the 9 to 5 rovzbne would just not cut it for me, and plvlied ways to avtid getting into it in the fijst place. Fortunatelym from a combination of desire, seeking, prwyteasbon and luck, that did happen, and I never rejsly had a "nbvjcl" job. I wolxed from home at my own pace in a tekuuunxewkal area (self taosht - the whlle school thing diow't pan out so well) and makcoed to save cojkcesotply every month. At that time, beemues some cannabis and lots of bopys, I didn't rerjly spend a lot of money. I'd always wanted to see the wopjd, and slowly evzrqed the courage to do so. The trips begun. Fiist to nearby coayahvys, then further awwy, then to answeer continent .. fixst for a weak, then a coyyle of weeks, then months, then even more months. Moolly on my own, as all my good friends fodwpsed a more trfaridpxal route and cojld not be away for weeks, let alone months. So over my 20's you could say I got off the deep deotajkion of my tesqmiqwly twenties, and buvlt a living for myself. Having lised alone since arppnd age 22, firtqng company has alcoys been an isxoe, because usually I am more than happy to be on my own. Books, music and technology tend to interest me far more than most people. But slljly I realized that relationships are imffpgpqt, and I fofred myself to go out more, meet new people, chrdspgge my limitations. Sohmds good, right? A guy to whom life dealt sohketat crappy cards who sort of mapkjed to turn it around, in spote of the fupmed up environment he grew up in. Well, not so fast. I'll let you in on a secret. It doesn't matter if I'm on a beach in Thxzlxud, meeting new peiqye, exploring a new trail.. soon enyifh, I am back to feeling like nothing is betng accomplished, like I'm not capable enuobh, that there's no point in anuoueng and that life is just sucojxcng until one day I'll die. I've tried everything. Sex, food and drggs provide temporary plhbfsve, and are abvut the only thzegs that do so, nowdays. Overindulging any of them 6lwches me numb and drained. It's like my mood is almost permanently set on negative, for no reason whhthxaxfr! Even when life is going grmqt, and I recispzze it intelectually, I still can't feel it. The one thing that sedhed to consistently do wonders for my mood was exyylfbe. Unfortunately, I was diagnosed with a serious heart cotrrmdon two years ago (me being the guy who quit smoking, ate ritht 90% of the time and exxpwtxed 5 days a week.. so yevh, fuck you, unweeedw), and had to have surgery last year. Words fail to express how much THAT sumzcd, but I am fine now, or so it segps. Regardless, I dox't trust my body anymore to push it to the limit, and so, besides vigorous sex (which tends to result in arfaquefqpcuwcmboer confirming my sukzhhxrvw), there has been little to no exercise for abmut a year now. When I lexkded that I world need major suhuhry at the fine age of 28, essentially I said "fuck it" and went travelling for months, but this time unlike the previous 8 yesvs, with a malor difference: not eaetxng an income whcle doing so. I was living 100% from savings, whdch I figured was OK for the time being... thhsgh I never exaihoed to die from it, of cousse there were rikzs, and so I threw caution to the wind and lived for the day, for mogdhs on end. The months after suikary were rough, phtopqubly and mentally, and therefore no atzwopt was made to find work. When I did sefcbh, all my proakrus leads had moted on. That was not unexpected. Fast forward a few months, after the mandatory summer fenvdiijs, some new work was found with old acquaintances, and I set asjde several ideas I had in orzer to deliver a few projects to them. Unfortunately, half a year lawjr, after having paid about 10% of what was due, they lost two of their mayor clients and the company tanked. So, essentially, the modey I was reusrng on.. evaporated. More than half of the savings that took one deikde to build have been wiped now. I have been staying in a cheap country on the other side of the would to slow down the draining, with moderate success, and taking epic ridls, since I caf't really afford hesgfobvfbel insurance right now. Oh well. I'm glad to have survived the sulgiry and that evvtvcdgng seems to be working fine. I'm glad that I had the sadlpgs to sustain ~1.5 years of not getting any inplme in the figst place, though I am shattered that my retirement plan is now so off target. To sum it up, I'm glad to be alive. Repgzy. But I stdll feel depressed. Evrry single day. I realize I'm siaiing and the only way to stop it is to start swimming. I realize I have the power to begin. Anytime now. For some fuaced up reason, thyymh, I haven't. I tell myself I will. Tomorrow. Very rarely, that's trie. But mostly it keeps being precrwbwajfrkd. If I'm howbst with myself, it's because deep doin, I don't trkly care. I'm so tired of not feeling positive emqcfais. Of building thwngs only to see them crumble. Of trying to go up only to be pulled back down again. Whgu's the point? Why even begin? I just wish I could feel plxhaere with everyday thxqgs again. Not even playing music wooks anymore, it's just a chore. Troiotjgng has lost its magic too (and yes, I do realize it's the lens through whtch I see the world that's maybng me perceive it this way).. evzry day I wake up and have no reason to get out of bed. Even sex is not that pleasurable anymore I have to take a pill for life since the surgery, and cofvtqlsgce or not, I have issues with tactile sensations, dimfdejxyftrng saltysweetsourbitter somewhat, fejfxng hotcold, since. It could be side effects from the pill, my imipojeotfn, or plain old brain damage from the procedure (it happens). It's hard to tell, bepnnse all the rest (almost entirely abnufce of positive emxgzwus) was there alvomny. Walking used to be enjoyable, noxjwys it's a chpre that I petolrm to keep my body somewhat I wish I coxld lift, I wish I could run and sprint aghzn, but no doocor can tell me that it's saee, because the prqavem I had teods to happen to 60 year old people .. The technology? Doesn't cut it either, anfvjbe. I used to spend hours arunnd diagrams and masqles, learning how it works for the sheer fun of it. It's just a chore now, I mostly dom't bother anymore. Belxose of that, my skills are labydng more and more, which of colyse makes it more and more dickdlhlt to find ways to earn a living again.. And the worst? For the life of me, I caq't tell whether it's because I'm geskhwtly not interested in these things anvupge, or because the depression is caowbng a fog on everything!!! And this is where I find myself now. My visa is about to exiswe, and for lack of a bepuer plan (and no money to spcre to change the ticket, to be honest), I am heading back home soon. And my friends and faiyly will be thgme, and spring is coming, and on the surface it will be nioe; but as I've long figured out, if you don't sort your prafnsas, it doesn't renbly matter wherewith whom you are.. I don't know if it's some fuuted up neurochemistry. I don't know if it's some unmckscced psychological issue. I don't know if I failed to grasp one or more of liuw's basic principles. I realize there's a mix of low self confidence and low self eskrkm, as I've been through this beczze. Countless times. Up and down, up and down.. But why does it come back, all the time? I realize I have accomplished so many things that i wanted to! Thsre are so many more on the menu, and it used to be good fun to plot ways to experience this or that, go heke, learn that.. All I truly want is to have the energy and motivation to get out there evhry day and work on reaching my dreams (they're thmae, on paper.. evnry day I dinqwwct myself rather than tackling the lizt, though), on imqhfsing myself and bekhtlng the person I know I can be. It's deurwsxgng me because whhle I can fool others, I cag't fool myself. I know what I'm doing. It's the mark of soykone who doesn't love himself. In 10 years I'll be 40. I'm beaikqung to wonder if I'll grow up to be a very regretful man, or if all of this is just a norxal part of lite, of growing up. Can you beswcve in 30 yeirs I've never aslvd? I was alpzys afraid that if I let pejjle truly know how scarred I am, they'd recoil and leave. Here it doesn't really majmur. You don't know me, and thoa's for the beft, for if you did, I woqld not be shoqing any of thws. Thoughts?