1.
I catch myself thinking these things all the time:
“If I could live somewhere that had proper rain, snow, rivers, forests, and seasons, I would be happy.”
“If I could work fewer hours in the week, I would be happy”
“If I saw friends more often, I would be happy”
“If I worked for a better employer, I would be happy”
“If I had more time to work on my projects, I would be happy”
“If there were any computing hardware that prioritized user freedom, I would be happy”
“If people cared or were even literate about free software, I would be happy”
But part of me knows things don’t really work this way. Because it used to be:
“If I had a monitor that didn’t flake out all the time, I would be happy”
“If I didn’t have to carry my laundry to a coin-op, I would be happy”
“If I had the freedom to modify my own home, I would be happy”
“If I could live without constant anxiety that my upstairs neighbor will flood my apartment, I would be happy.”
And over time, I obtained those things. Life is demonstrably improved now. But I feel bad.
So maybe it’s more like,
“If I were happy, the scorching sun and hills the color of dead grass would not bother me so much.”
“If I were happy, I could overlook the annoyances at work, because it’s mostly good and pays well.”
“If I were happy, I could do my meager bit for a better future without it feeling pointless.”
“If I were happy, all those other things would not send me into a pit of negative thinking.”
So when I catch myself stuck in a pit of envy and despair about what I don’t have, I can remind myself that really if I fix my brain then all those other things might fall into place (or at least become manageable goals to work toward).
2.
After my second session with my therapist, she said I seem to be doing well and maybe we should see each other less often.
…
Part of me knows it is wrong to think this but: What, am I not depressed enough?!?
Am I putting on my “normal nice person in public” act too well? Should I force myself to wear my angst on my sleeve when I go there?
On the other hand, it’s not like I’m missing out on some magic words that will make me all better. There are other things I could be doing to help myself: exercise, sleep, diet, meditation, etc. She even printed me out a list. If I cared to, I could do any of them.
I’m probably just upset because this validates one of my fears about going: that I’m not legit depressed, I’m just a whiny sad-sack with first world problems who refuses to get his shit together and adult properly.