The pursuit of finding that seemingly unreachable goal of self-actualization. The desire to succeed in goals and dreams is vacant mostly due to me not being of well mind enough to even know what brings me happiness. Things I think I like make me feel indifferent. Detached. Unfazed. I think that's the depression.
This may sound self-depreciating, I'd rather I myself only bear the frustration of failed attempt at becoming cheerful or feeling satisfied rather than anyone else feel the need to make me happy and become disappointed when they don't, to which I hope they understand someday it is not their fault. Some have been hurt from trying this, and I feel terrible for that happening, to which I blame myself. Even though I know I may not be able to help it at times.
That is a reason why I tend to isolate myself, so that I don't hurt others who make an attempt to help me. I'd rather not be helped at all than for someone feel like they have failed me. Yet I know that I'm in desperate need of it. The worst battle sometimes is between what you know and what you feel.
I need to love myself. Be kind to myself. More importantly, find myself. Only then I think I will find happiness. It's possible. I may not see the way but I know it's there, somewhere.
It's going to just take time. All I have to do is imagine that some time in the future I will be through this already, and it will be like I'm there.
