I’m happy with my life. For really the first time in my 33 years of life, I’m really, truly happy, and have been for some time now. Not that everything’s perfect, there are still challenges and changes ahead, as in any life. But I’m really content with the way things are now, and where they are headed. I feel fully confident that I’ll be able to make a good life for myself from now on. It’s somewhat the antithesis to everything I believed for years. I thought I was just a bad person and bad things would always happen to me. That I should never trust anyone, because people were just out to hurt me, while at the same time I would never be able to take care of myself because I was such an abject failure. Those two thoughts seem like they don’t leave much else do they? That’s probably why I suffered from depression, probably why my idea of a life involved never getting out of bed, never dealing with anyone, never enjoying anything.
I’m so glad that’s not me anymore. I hope it never is again.