Division

I find joy in simple things: family, friends, animals, nature itself. God, of course. But still there is this disconnect; I cannot stand myself. I can't see how I fit in all this. I honestly feel like I don't, and I don't feel particularly depressed right now. Just lost to it all.

There is division somewhere inside me. If I don't think about it, I'm OK; the moment I bump up against it (and it is inevitable that I will), I confront the disappointment, shame, and humiliation of being me. I detest that. I detest myself. The meds make me feel better on the whole; I don't feel suicidal about all this, as I do during spates of depression. But that doesn't mean I can bear the thought of myself, of my being. I can't bear it.

I trust that God is making something valuable of me that I can't perceive. I trust that I am blind to the work of God in me. But it is a leap of faith to believe that, as I see no trace of value within me. Just a collection pool of incompetencies, regrets, pain, and sorrow. Maybe that is, in part, simply an aspect of being, or being human; I don't pretend to know. I do know that it is a bad place, and no amount of pretending otherwise can change that.