I am miserably unhappy — and I have no idea what to do about it.
For years, I’ve danced around having to admit that to myself. When exactly did it start? I’m not sure. Maybe it started as soon as I became psychologically self-aware enough to see my life clearly. But I’ve never wanted to call it by its true name.
I’ve been able to admit that I was lonely. I’ve been able to admit to being crushed by not having the love and companionship I need. I’ve even been able to face the enormous consequences of losing what little semblance of family love I once had.
I’ve lied to myself. I’ve told myself I was fine except for this one thing or that other thing. The things I’ve told myself were true, as far as they went. I did so much difficult emotional work that I knew which pieces were missing. I knew which pieces of my core were damaged. I had excellent head knowledge.
But my message to myself was always a partial lie. It was a way to keep from sliding into the deep pit of misery from which it would be hard to return. But I haven’t been OK — not really — for a long time. Maybe I never have been.
All I know is that I have somehow deprived my life of love. And without love, there is no happiness, no meaning, no joy.

It’s when we create art — and create a better world — that we’re most like our Creator
We’re all a little crazy; I worry about those who don’t know it
Another firm ‘going Galt’ as hedge broker blasts financial corruption
Emptiness can bring panic that feels like being stalked by fear
We have to unlearn lies before the truth can ever make sense
Son’s prayer for dying mother awakened emotion for NYC doc
Law profs: the Constitution means whatever we say it means
Cancer diagnosis forces you to decide what really matters in life
Reality frequently doesn’t match fantasy when you know full story