Strangely, my long, deep, severe depression from the age of 12 till the age of 24 was something I had eventually accepted, forgiven to life/God/fortune/whatever and I no longer considered myself as a victim.
Then I had to go through another ordeal at the age of 30 (see My work burn out story) and it took me a long time to accept the physical and mental pain I went through.
Then I looked around me, and more specifically on the World Wide Web. People with disabilities that cause them pain 24/7 but who still smile and have hobbies and do stuff with friends. People with the worst mental illnesses (severe anorexia, schizophrenia…). People in a wheelchair not for 3 months and a half like I was, but for the rest of their life. And on TV: migrants who risked their lives and are now living in the worst sanitary conditions in my own country.
So I have started to accept that the excruciating ordeal I have been through happened and will always be a part of my already chaotic difficult existence. And I’m ready to go on with this past experience included in my life.
I may cry and complain and feel sorry to myself once in a while. But I will keep on living.