She's a Real Bitch; Depression.

It doesn't make a lot of sense.

I have a loving wife. My son is AMAZING (no joke). I'm well liked at work by co-workers and management alike.

So why do I ever find myself crying on the way to or from work?

Depression is very hard to understand. While my life is pretty close to perfect, I still get in these ridiculous slumps. It's like a flashback of emotion really. I start feeling like no one loves me (the way I felt as a child) when I KNOW that so many people do. I've even found myself get cynical about love at time (another pass time of mine), even though I'm in an amazingly loving and supportive relationship.

Clinical depression is a real bitch, and no one (without the proper education) really understands her.

Feeling Like the Dad

It has always been said that he did what he did to me because it was done to him as a child.  Which to me translated to "you'll do it one day too".  Scared to death that I could actually be a predator, I have always told anyone I ever considered having kids with that I would never bathe my child unsupervised, or have a special bed time with them that lasted more than 5 minutes. Lucky for me, I have an amazing wife & incredible friends that keep be balanced. 

Now that a have a son,  turns out night time is my time which means I'm usually the one to bathe him. Still, I ask myself every time, how could  I possibly betray him like that? I think it's healthy, being that I was a victim, to keep myself in check. I wouldn't want to take the chance. No one would have ever believed that my dad would have done that to me. No one. So why trust me?

Since  I am the provider,  and she is his biological mom, I can't help but sometimes feel like the dad.  I'm afraid to be the dad because the only dad I've ever known was a predator. 

Black Licorice

I have spent too much time worried about what people think of me.

I like black licorice. You might didn't care to know, but now you do. More likely (or at least I assume) you think the above is gross.

Growing up, I didn't know much of anyone who liked black licorice. So when I realized this to be the flavor of black jelly beans and good and plenty's, I decided to keep it a secret. I didn't want people to think I was gross, and I didn't want to end up with everyone's bycatch either.

Why do I care about what people think of me? Why can't I be one of those people who just doesn't care. Cuz honestly, if I knew how, I would be less friendly and less social. Sometimes I actually wish that less people liked me; yet, I spend so much energy making sure most people do. 

Makes no sense.