I've been trying to write something here for days. I keep writing draft after draft and erasing it.

I don't know how to hate myself less. I don't even do anything most days, I just think about how I could fix myself, and read endless advice columns, and then watch tv to forget.

I've been getting to see more of my family. I wasn't very close to them for a long time. And they have a great life. I'm so happy for my siblings, they've got their lives so sorted.

I hung out with some of their friends and their family today, and it was impossibly idyllic. Cute dogs and picnics and lovely conversation. All the children – young adults – starting their first jobs. These kids, who are a decade younger than me, are earning more money than I ever have.

They come to their lives with such different expectations. Their lives have always been full. Full of plans and work and school and friends. They have an expectation of constancy and stability.

I never have. My experience included constant change and separation. So many years of being alone and lonely. Not going to school for half a year. Being put in the wrong grade. Going to school where I didn't speak the language and I couldn't speak to anyone for years.


So much lonely, empty time.

I didn't expect to be understood, or liked or even talked to. My parents were too busy, I was always the wrong person in the wrong place.

I don't know, maybe it's me. Maybe it's how I am, and how I would have turned out no matter what my childhood was like.


But my normal was chaos and loneliness. I'm still scared of letting people into my life. I still feel like showing someone something about myself is just giving them ammunition to use against me later. I can't be open and spontaneous. I second guess myself, often endlessly. I can't relax. I can't have fun. Trying to do something happy for myself terrifies me.

I have very few friends, and those that I have are not close. These last months when I was falling apart there was one person who checked in with me every once in a while. But I've gone weeks without talking to anyone.

I don't have an expectation that effort of any kind will translate to results. Mostly I expect that effort will be expanded infinitely without any result.


This is a cycle. If I'm not expecting better I will accept shitty circumstances, and the more shitty experiences I have the more I will feel like this is how the world is.

I've never had a full time job for more than three months. I've never had sick leave, or two weeks notice. I've had work call me at night and on weekends, and I've worked overnight, from home, for things that weren't even urgent or important. I've hardly made more than the dole. I'd go weeks at a time without work. I don't think I have ever not been looking for work. Continuously.

I lived in a house that couldn't be heated, working from home, all winter while my ex was away on tour, half a year out of every year, and then for half a year he would play computer games all day every day.


This was my normal.

I've had a parade of shit housemates. I have lived with so many strangers, I guess because I didn't have a lot of friends. Several were hugely mentally unbalanced.

This is were I'm coming from. These kids never have and never will have experiences like that, because if they come across people like that those people will stick out like sore thumbs from their usual lives, and they will know not to let them in. I didn't know better.


To that kid, getting a good full time job is what happens when a person finishes Uni. To me, it's something that's impossible after ten years of hard slog. I know that's not true, I know it's feasible and within my reach, but it doesn't feel that way.

And maybe it won't be like that for me. This fucked up background of mine is bound to show through however capable I am of doing the work. It's possible to fail out over and over for the same problem a person doesn't realise they have. It's certainly happened to me before.

I've tried to maintain a social life. I go out and meet people, but I honestly just don't care.


I haven't even kissed anyone since March. No rebounds, nothing.

I know that my ex was an asshole. I know that the people I had relationships with were bad choices for me. But still, my experience is that no matter how much someone loves me, no matter how well I know them and trust them, in the end they will fuck me over and treat me like dirt.

And if I do meet kind awesome people, I'm scared that they will find out that I'm fucked up and I run away.


Plus I just don't trust my judgement.

I don't hope any more. Hope has been eroded bit by bit over years and decades. The best I hope for now is watching something funny on the internet occasionally. That's as good as it gets.

I haven't moved out of my parents place because it's nice to be around people who know me. I don't want to live with strangers again, and I don't want to live on my own again. And in half a year no opportunity to live with friends has come up.


I don't want to do all of it all over again.

I don't want to get crappy jobs with twenty year old kids and work my way up all over again, but I don't have a choice.

I don't want to live with strangers again, but I can't see a way to jump ahead to something better.


I don't want to be rebuilding all major aspects of my life all at the same time.

I feel like that's all I ever do. I build something up and it fall apart and I build the next thing, and there are parts of lives strewn all around behind me and nothing that stays.

I don't want to meet people and date and spend years and years finding someone new and getting to know them and eventually starting a family.


I want someone old and familiar. I wanted to have a family ages ago, I want to have it, already.

I don't have time to date around and let things grow slowly. I'm 34 now. But I don't want to rush into a relationship, because that is what went wrong with my ex, plus the likelyhood of ending up in an abusive relationship if it gets serious very quickly. I want to take my time and do it properly. Except I don't have the time to do that. And also I only want the end, I don't want any of the parts before that.

Plus my father has stomach cancer, which can be hereditary. If that's the case, if I had a baby right now it would be two decades before I started having significant problems. I wouldn't want to leave it much later than that.


Although who knows. I found a lump in my armpit the other day, and when the doctor checked it out she found one in my breast too.

I've never had a pap smear. I have vaginismus, which is better now (except for the endless headfuck my ex gave me about it), but the last time I tried to have a pap smear I couldn't yet.

I'm scared that I have cervical cancer, that it's already spread everywhere.

I'm sorry about the relentless bleakness. I hate that I'm putting this crap on you guys, I'm just at a loss. I feel like I keep running around in this hamster wheel but things only ever get worse and not better.


I feel like all the good things in life, love friendship, joy, adventure, success, they're not for me. I don't want to believe that. But I've been down here a long fucking time. By this point I'm more a zombie that shuffles along without reason or hope or expectations than anything else.