There’s not much to complain about

What do I have to complain about??

Not much, really. My apartment, but that’s easy to change, and I’m working on it. Not enough money, but there’s a whole lot more than there was when I was going through that last 8 months in London Ontario (1997). At least now I have the option to be able to eat, instead of relying on friends giving me food, friends giving me a place to live when I left the ex-from-hell, friends getting frustrated with my eternal depression.

I had my depression treated, Therapy was great once I found a good therapist and I was willing to work with her. That took years. I’m doing a whole lot better now than I was. Now the black cloud only comes back to haunt me on occasion, and it doesn’t stay for years like it used to… and I have tools to fight it, or deal with it, instead of taking knives to my arms, or forgetting to eat for a few days, or forgetting to sleep for a week, or sleeping every single time I sit down no matter where I am. Those coping mechanisms had their place, but I don’t need them anymore, and I’m so glad of that. I don’t wish for death, and I haven’t thought about suicide in so long I almost wonder if I ever did… except that I know I did. I was there, even when I wasn’t really there.

My job is boring, but it’s not retail and it has potential to get me elsewhere, be it in the company or just with experience. Plus, I’m actually doing some writing for real, and people are actually reading it. That’s Me writing! I’m a writer. And I’m good at it, or else no one would want to read it.

I can complain about Jay, and I do, but I know he’s working on stuff. I know it’s taking him a long time, but it’s nothing I can’t work around, and I know someday it could easily be the other way around, and probably will be. So really, since I’ve found the man I want to marry, my soul mate, what’s a little frustration and waiting, when I know it’ll work itself out, however it works out. That’s nothing to complain about at all.

I don’t feel so lost and alone anymore. And I don’t hate the person I am, or the person I can see myself becoming. I’m proud of myself for surviving this long, and I’m actually living now.

So, what do I have to complain about? the same things everyone complains about, money, work, stress, yadda yadda yadda. But I know it gets better, because it’s already been worse, and it was hell, but here I am, and I appreciate life so much more now because of what I’ve already been through.