please someone something get me back on my feet

I’ve been praying for death the last few nights. I know it is such a stupid thing to do. Why waste my prayers on such a thing? It is selfish for one thing and it does me no good. I should be praying for a job I can manage or a better relationship with my family.

I worked very hard to put myself in a position to do well even though I’ve always been sad and never had much confidence. I’m at a point right now where I don’t know what I’ll do. I got to the point where I let myself go because I knew I’d be miserable no matter what I did. I’d always consider myself a loser. I’d always have those terrible memories of being bullied and dehumanized. My parents divorced when I was young and have since spawned complicated new families. They understandably devoted themselves to their careers and new relationships and raising young children. They didn’t seem to notice me slipping into despair, the pills missing from the cabinet over the years, the slurred speech. My family is so bitter at me and each other since my breakdown, the emergency room trips, the time in psych and the time in rehab. The funny thing is: as messed-up as I was, I was the spiritual center of everything. Everyone projected so much wisdom on to me, even though I was just a scared, self-hating kid.

Most people who look at my situation from the outside say I will be alright. I do have a very prestigious degree, but I don’t have much confidence in my abilities to do what I went to school to do. I have some issues to clear up before I can practice, due to substance abuse issues. Truthfully, I ‘ve been dragging my feet. I have to find alternate employment in the mean time. I’m out begging people for jobs that pay much less than I ever thought I’d be making. I started out wanting to do something that matters. Now I just need something that I can manage. No matter what happens, I’ll have to be reliant on my parents to help with therapy and drugs (psychiatric and for other medical conditions) even though it really pains everyone involved. God bless my parents for taking care of me. They (well my mother at least) would admit they weren’t perfect, but I know they have tried and are trying their best. Hopefully, if I’m still around in a while, our relationship will get better.

It is hard to know when it is reasonable to call oneself depressed. I don’t have access to other minds to compare myself to. But I haven’t really laughed since I stopped taking pills. I can’t see a bright future for myself. I just don’t know what a happy future would look like. My stepmother would still be there berating everyone. My past as a loser would always come up. My past as an addict and alcoholic would always come up. My lack of a sexual history would always come up. Just to let you guys know: the drugs and booze will be the easiest to live down, not that I’d encourage messing around with them. You know, you make a bargain with your family, friends, yourself, and God. You are going to kill yourself, sit in bed under the covers, or self-medicate. But substance abuse opens pathways to misery even the most miserable minds cannot think of.

I’ve been mostly sober for the last year, a very rough year. I say mostly sober because I’ve sometimes taken too much of prescribed medicines, half-hoping for death, knowing an overdose death by the drugs I was taking was pretty much impossible. I’ve never had a drink since leaving rehab, and I’ve never had a narcotic. Perhaps the reason I’m so sad now is that I realize substance abuse was mostly just a symptom and not the root problem. I just feel overwhelmed by the presence of my parents, I don’t think I can do anything, and I have no love for myself. Every social occasion, personal errand, or work project involving people was a chore when I was using. Now, I just cannot see everyday life working for me at all.

If my life ends now, it would look pretty cool in retrospect, almost poetic. I suppose that is a very immature way of thinking. I would do so much damage by leaving. I can try to rationalize ways how my death might make things better for my family – how they might come together and quit all the petty bickering – but I’d probably do very real damage to my three younger siblings.

Still, I think about suicide often. How close I’ve come, I’ll never know. Who knows what separates the huge number of people who think about it from the sizable number who try it from those who do it? It is just a matter of finally being backed into a corner I don’t think I can get out of. I hope it never comes to that for my family’s sake, butI truly think I’m better off dead at this point.

I’m posting here for the first time. I may do it some more. You can’t tell your therapist everything. For one thing, I don’t want her to think I’m a freak. Also, I struggle with truthfulness in the most banal of situations. And I don’t want her to have me sent away.  And as much as I (seriously) enjoyed my stays in residential mental health facilities, it costs too much and it would be a major setback.  This site may help me feel a bit less cut off.  I don’t have a Facebook. I ‘m the only person my age that doesn’t. I have about five close friends and about four closish ones. I have to say that many of these people have been there for me when I really needed it. Some have been more like frenemies, reminding me of old humiliations and prodding me to create new ones.