I have been followed by an ever-present amorphous sadness for almost my entire life. I am 51 yrs old. It varies in strength from a casual unresolvable suspicion that I will never find the joy that others do in a sunset, to the feeling that being dead might a respite & a kindness.
I’ve been on meds. for decades. I’m a devout believer in the talking cure of therapy & it’s structure & hope & absolutely life-saving sense of progress. I have a successful career. I’m in love w my wife of 23 yrs, & my 2 kids are the best people I know. My life is full. I am lucky.
And I will still reach the end of my life having walked through most of it with an emotional limp. I do not wallow in self-pity. No one did this to me. It is just how it is. I am just unlucky.