Happiness

I was recently told by my therapist that things are going to get worse, a lot worse. He doesn't usually make predictions, but this time at the end of our meeting he gave me a brochure for the suicide prevention hotline. This was the first time he'd mentioned it, despite the fact that I've been seeing him for over a year now, and even when I talked about my depression or the suicide days as I like to call them, he never mentioned it.

A normal person would be scared, terrified even, how bad does he expect it to get? But I wasn't scared, no I smiles, I might've even laughed, because it was ridiculous. I've gone through hell, I've been homeless, starved, went through four years of depression, two of being suicidal, and I'm haunted by my past, yet the worst is yet to come?!
 
I laughed because... well because it's true as ridiculous as it sounds. My brain protected me from everything bad, maybe not in the best of ways, but blocking things out is what kept me alive. Yet my brain, because of all that, doesn't know how to react to good things. Yes, that's my problem, things are going good, and things have been so bad that I'm having withdrawal symptoms. So getting close to happiness might be the thing that kills me after all. It's actually really funny because that means there is no hope, for anyone. The thing is though it's going to get so bad, worse than before, but if I get through it, and allow myself to be happy everything will be fine. I won't be screwed up, well I'll always be screwed up, but I'll be happy. The word is so foreign to my tongue that I almost don't know it's meaning.
 
The problem is do I want to let go of ME, of all the things that hurt me, or all my misery and guilt, of all my pain? But then I wouldn't be me, I'd be like everyone else, trusting, and stuff. I don't think I want that, but then I'll have no excuse, because then I'd have chosen misery over happiness.