I’m screwed

Two weeks ago I left the psych ward after three months of trying to recover from depression and anxiety. Before I left, the shrinks there questioned me about how my three month stay had helped me. I lied, told them it changed something, told them it had made a difference, told them that “it taught myself a lot about me”. In truth, nothing has changed, but I didn’t have the balls to tell them about it. I felt like I had just wasted a quarter year of my life twiddling thumbs. I still feel anxious. I still feel depressed. I still feel like I could just die and nobody would notice my absence for months to come. I still feel lonely. I still don’t have a clear perspective on how things are supposed to continue.

I’m 23, and I still live at home, with parents who don’t understand why I can’t get out of bed in the morning and why I can’t talk to people, why I let myself go so much. I failed out of college due to depression, and I don’t know where to find work. Everything that has to do with what I studied and what I’m passionate about is off-limits now, and unskilled work doesn’t pay enough for me to be able to live. I’ve reapplied to college to try and finish my degree, but with my depression and my problems I’m very pessimistic about how that’s supposed to work out.

I’m trying to move out, but with no funds, no job, and no friends, I don’t see how that’s going to happen. It’s almost December and I wanted to stay at my parent’s for at most two to three weeks. It’s already been almost three weeks now, and they’re (quite understandably) getting bothered.

I can’t deal with people, which is my biggest issue. I couldn’t deal with the drunkenfest that is college, couldn’t make friends, couldn’t talk to professors when I needed help, couldn’t even go food shopping without getting anxious, which is why I’ve lost a ton of weight. There were weeks where I was so anxious I couldn’t even leave my room other than late at night to go to the toilet.

All I want to do is crawl into some hole, shrivel up, and die.

I’ve thought about it more than ever this past week. How to do it, whether I’d jump off a cliff or figure out a way to off myself by OD’ing on barbs. But it seems futile. I’d probably cop out before doing it, just like last time. I tried jumping off a rock hang near where I live, but some tourist came up to me and stopped me before I could conjure up enough mojo to actually do it.

I’m off to my shrink in two hours, I’m meeting with a weekly support group from the psych hospital. It’s their post-treatment group, and it only goes for three weeks after the actual treatment, so I’ll be going for the last time. Everybody else seemingly has figured out a solution to their issues, found a place to live, a place to work, or gone back into education. I’m the only person who hasn’t had any luck finding a job, or moving out.

I don’t know how things are supposed to continue. I’m screwed.