Before I was diagnosed, before my mental health started to collapse under the weight of real life and I realized my fantasy life was never coming true, I would daydream about a partner whose love would make me feel whole and complete and comfortable in the world and content with myself and bring a bounty of good company into my life and make activities enjoyable. I would daydream
about a hobby that would give me a sense of self, emotional fulfillment, and meaning. I would daydream about a job that would give me a sense of accomplishment, purpose, and value. I tolerated the present very well all those years, sure these things were on the horizon, were attainable. Now I know these things can’t come from external sources without radically internally changing. Now I know I have an incurable disorder and what I’ve always felt I’m missing is because of its symptoms. Now I know about chronic feelings of emptiness and boredom and how it’s the least likely symptom to remit and every therapist’s solution is “just keep trying new things” like there was anything wrong with the 30 hobbies, 10 jobs, 3 cities, bounty of friends I tried having before. Like somehow I’m going to stumble across something that gives me regular meaningful moments, a sense of purpose, a sense of wholeness and self, joy, etc. when all my seeking before didn’t lead to any of that. So now I just daydream about getting into fatal car accidents or being diagnosed with terminal cancer.