The Art of Driving

I’m in my car and I’m driving. Driving towards down a road to a place called “Success”. I haven’t been there a lot, but heard it’s great. How you define success means different things to different people. Getting an education and establishing a career are things I’ve done. Living with mental illness has meant many U-turns, red lights, swerves and many crashes. Getting out of bed and into the car is a journey in that of itself. That’s the most challenging thing ever.

I feel the “Marriage and Relationship” building always has a permanently closed sign on me since adulthood started. Maybe it will never open for me. Maybe I will never be one of the lucky ones with a family. Maybe my social anxiety will never let up and let me be free.

Maybe I will get my old life back? Maybe I will pick up my joy for music again and start over. Maybe not. I’ll probably be running a business for the rest of my life. Writing is a hobby, but who knows when that could be something more. I never wanted fame or fortune or more money than God, all I want is happiness. I want someone in my life, doing a job I love, writing anything besides depression, and live a depression-free life. Does that even exist? I don’t care if I make bank with my book because the important message for people (who buy it) is that life with mental illness is rough and is so unfair. A vicious cycle that never stops and continues day after day.

A condition that curtails your life in so many ways. If I wasn’t so introverted and suffer social anxiety, things would be different. But I am who I am. I can try to kick my butt or rewire my brain to get over it and take the leap, but it always ends up in pure failure. A lot of men I’ve met look at me the wrong way. Once they find out I live with depression, it’s like, “OK. I’ll check out this hotter, skinner, and younger girl than you.” OK, I’ll sink deeper into the great depression.

It’s OK. I’m used to rejection and failure both professionally and personally. People perceive me in the wrong way. I’m not skinny or hot as guys refer to other women, but I’m not a failure. I’m well-educated, established a career, have my website, write and published my book, and have a little money to my name. And survive a horrible illness that’s constantly ridiculed by others. Does that sound like a failure?

Rejection and failure are required on the path of success. You need to learn how to walk before you run. Let go of your inhibitions and be brave. It’s hard, but I was brave enough to write about my life and my experiences. Maybe one day before 40, I hope, I really hope someone great comes in my life. If not, it’s not the end of the world. It’s better to love and lost, then to not love at all.

Throughout the bumps in the roads, the potholes that caused serious tire damage, the constant red lights, and U-turns, anything is possible. Maybe I will find happiness through a non-monetary reward. I need to stay patient and try my best.

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