I had a nice husband, a healthy daughter, a good job and we lived in a nice neighborhood, but I was neck-deep in despair and didn’t know why.

Although I was cheerful and encouraging to most everyone outside my home, inside my home was much different. There, I was quiet and tense. Defensive. Passive aggressive. I felt misunderstood and disconnected from my husband, and frequently lost my patience with my daughter too.

I felt trapped and hopeless in a life that looked great on paper, but I wasn’t emotionally connected to.

I felt enormous guilt for not being appreciative of my life. After all, it’s not like I lived in a concentration camp. I told myself, “Those people had a right to feel awful, I don’t.”

I tried so many things to feel better: spirituality, personal development, antidepressants, books, podcasts…but nothing worked permanently.

I begged my husband to move us out of state. Maybe a change of scenery would help? When I asked he replied, “What if we move and you’re still unhappy? What if you’re just an unhappy person?” This was something I deeply feared as well.  

I attended therapy for over a year and gained significant breakthroughs in awareness, but still carried that deep heaviness with me constantly.