English isn’t my first language but it’s only one I know

The title of this post came about after an Internet argument with someone I consider a friend. It got pretty nasty. Near the end it felt like I was trying to translate from my own native tongue into English and getting frustrated that I didn’t know the words required to present my position. The only problem is, English is my native language. So shouldn’t I be able to adequately express myself in it?

My psychiatrist never got back to me with the referrals he promised. And now, being in New Zealand, I have to go through the whole process again. I’m not particularly looking forward too it. To be honest I’m not really looking forward to any aspect of my life. Look for a job? Who’d want to hire me. Go get my diploma? Why, I don’t really think I deserve it. See my friends? I’m not good company. Start a charity with the intention of bring broadband to regional communities in New Zealand? Who’d take me seriously. Get up tomorrow? To do what, mope some more.

Logically I know that this constant spiral of negativity isn’t healthy at all. No one has to remind me that. I’m the first to point it out to myself. But I really don’t know any better. What does being content even mean? Is that like sleeping? It’s like a mythical land of elves and dwarfs, everyone talks about it, but has anyone ever actually been there?

I need to own this, I need to go seek the help, no one else can do it for me. But the initial appointment costs $80, and I literally don’t have any money to speak of, and this isn’t something I really want to bring up with my parents.

I don’t know what to do.

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