I'm almost always depressed. If I'm not severly depressed, I'm sad. It's a terrible way to live. I hate it, yet I have no choice but to live with it.
I wonder if I had made different choices along the way if things would be different. I left my parents home at age 17 - out of the frying pan into the fire. I was dating a man who my parents didn't approve of. They made me feel like a criminal, and treated me like one. I was desperate and made a bad choice. I left home a few days before Christmas. I put on all the clothes that would fit on my body and carried what I could. On Christmas eve, I remember walking up 42nd street in NYC headed for the YMCA where I was staying with this man. I was hysterical with tears, alone and afraid. I believe this was the day my heart broke. In my own defense, it was not a conscience choice to run away - I felt as if my life depended on it - I felt like I had no choice. Unfortunately, the situation I ran into was worse than the one I had left behind.
Why do we make bad choices - not seeing options, not considering ramifications, fear, not having been shown that we had options? Who knows - there are probably more reasons. Did the choice I made at 17 pave my road of loneliness, isolation and depression?
These days, I try to be thoughtful about decisions and choices I make. That's a good thing.
