I Cannot remember that I was ever satisfied with myself or surroundings from childhood. I was always discontented, but continually building air castles that were never realized. I was brought up by unbelieving parents, so I had not the comfort, even, of a belief in a personal God, though I did go to church and try to believe. I longed for the religious experience that others had, some assurance that there was something beside this life, that seemed so empty.
I finally united with an orthodox church, thinking if I would only take a step to show my desire for the good that God (if there was one) would show me the way. I did not find the help I looked for, and my efforts ended in another disappointment. The little spark of hope I had in that direction died out. I was miserable and unhappy.
I turned to the world, hoping to drown my troubles in the pleasures of sense, with the thought of getting all I could out of this life, as I had my doubts about any other, but it only added another failure to my list.