Being a good person

I probably spend too much time thinking about this. (Actually, I probably spend too much time thinking full stop, but that's by the by.) I want to be a good person. I want to do the right things. I want to be a good mother, a good pseudo-wife, a good daughter and a good friend. I want to be nice and helpful and "have worth".

I would also like to be a good mathematician, a good writer, a good GM. I want to create something, give something to the world that even a few people may enjoy. I want to be liked and admired and respected; who wouldn't? But that's where the first hint of a problem lies. Too often, I am afraid to be wrong. I don't want people to think of "badly" of me, even for a short while. And there's another problem. What nebulous concept of "bad" and "good" am I using? How am I to define these things, even to myself? What does it mean to be "a good person"?

I have vague ideas of what I should do to be "good" as I'm sure everyone does, but I try not to hold myself to these impossible ideals. I keep telling myself that as long as I try my best, that is enough. No-one can ask for more. But therein lies my biggest problem: I'm lazy. I dislike hard work. Sometimes, the effort seems like too much and the end result not worth all the hassle. At least, that's what I keep telling myself. And maybe it's true. Or maybe, because I'm depressed, I find things harder and because other people seem to manage the same things without so many tears or outward signs of distress, I just assume I'm lazy. Either way, I still find myself thinking I should try harder. How do I know I've done "my best"? How can I know that if I didn't just try a bit harder that I would manage it? At what point does it become reasonable to admit that perhaps there is a wall in the way, and continuing to walk into it serves no purpose?

So I keep marching on. I plod on every day, teetering on the edge between giving up and making progress. Some days, it's about all I can manage to survive the day without collapsing into tears; other days I get lots done but barely recognise the achievement because it's my expected norm - everyone should be able to do that. Sometimes I can enjoy things I feel I ought to enjoy: reading, watching a film or television programme, playing games, spending time with friends or family, snuggles in bed with my SO. Sometimes it feels like all the pleasure has been sucked out of these activities. And I keep thinking to myself, "I should be doing more." But every time I attempt "more", the challenges seem too great, the risk of failure too high, and I fall, if not at the first hurdle, then still far too soon. And I'm running out of willpower. I know I have to keep going on, but I don't know which direction to try, or how to get past this damned wall.

I honestly don't know what I was trying to say here.