My last few weeks.

I am a 23 year old engineer. I became interested in this site a while back when I was feeling low. I am fascinated by all the stories. The things that make people depressed, stories of overcoming or triumph or despair.
This is my first entry. I guess I just need a vent. I don’t have any real reason to be depressed except perhaps only within the chemistry of my brain.

It has been a week and 3 days since I last tried to kill myself.

It was during the Christmas/New Year break that my mother discovered that I’d been dating an Asian for nearly a year. Putting it mildly, she wasn’t impressed.
The first thing she told me during a private moment is that I should be able to show off my girlfriend, but Asians are ugly and I can do better.

I took to recording all private conversations with my mother so that she would be embarrassed to make racist comments.

I haven’t been that bothered by it. I rarely sleep at home these days, and moving out is something of a priority for me.

A couple weeks ago, I came home from a mine site on the Friday. My father is unusually stressed, because when my mother has these episodes, she makes relentless emotional attacks on him, telling him that he is a ‘bad parent’ and that he ‘raised his children wrong’ and that he ‘didn’t teach them to respect their mother’. He told me I’d have to move out that weekend.

I was totally unprepared for this. I am paying him $300 a fortnight and he often complains about not having enough money. When I stay at home, I rarely venture outside of my room, and I rarely eat at all. I decided I would have to sleep on a friend’s floor until I could sort out my situation. In my stress, I took 4 times the dose of Lorazapam recommended by my psychiatrist (not to harm myself, I knew this was still within safe limits) and without thinking cut my arms several times. By the time my father arrived back home with my infant nephew, I was busy cleaning and disinfecting the cuts in my arms. Normally I don’t cut my arms as cuts in this place are difficult to conceal, but as I said, I wasn’t thinking.

My father said something about this being stupid behaviour. I didn’t expect either of my parents to understand. My mother seems to think the solution to depression is altruism and my girlfriend thinks the solution is pretending it doesn’t exist.

Anyway, I slept at my friend’s place that night. I think he is attracted to me, but I am not bothered by this. It makes him more likely to help me.

The following day, I had lunch with one of my mother’s many sisters. Her main argument was that I should try to support my mother despite all her faults (or something like that).

Afterwards, when I arrived home, I attempted to hang myself from the pergola with the belt I wore when I used to work at McDonalds. This was not an impulsive action. I had thought about it when I woke up that morning.

My parents rushed outside and stopped me. I had to beg them not to commit me to hospital. Sometimes I wonder if I would be better in hospital, but I can’t afford the damage that would do to my life. This might seem a little hypocritical, but I think if I am to be forced to continue living, I might as well do it without the added strain on work and relationships of having to spend a month in psychiatric care.

As usual, I spent most of last weekend with my girlfriend. I ran out of Escitalopram while I was there. By yesterday afternoon at work, I had been in withdrawl for around 3 days.

I saw my psychiatrist that day. He said he was amazed that I was still ‘able to balance on my own two feet’ after withdrawing from 60mg for that long. I did feel dizzy. He made me take a dose before I left his office.

I slept at home last night, but as usual, I didn’t leave my room, and I didn’t eat.

My girlfriend, who is working as an intern at a pharmacy, rang up very distressed to tell me that her preceptor told her that he will probably not pass her for her internship. She doesn’t want to see me for another two weeks. I should probably be upset, but I can’t bring myself to care.

I figured I’d buy her some flowers to lift her mood and give them to her tomorrow, since we are seeing a film for which I won tickets, since she still wants to go. The last time I would see her for a couple weeks.

I’m not sure I’ll wait around. On Thursday, I think I might just wait until my parents are asleep and finish what I started a week and three days ago. I’ll write a note explaining to my parents that it’s not their fault and asking them to call my friends. Or maybe I can’t bring myself to do it. I don’t know. There’s only one way to find out.

I know, maybe things will get better in the future, but I just don’t care. I’m tired, even as I sit here in front of the computer at my boring day job. All I want to do is go to sleep and never wake up. Sleep is the one time I feel at peace. I enjoy dreams more than reality.

I know I’m selfish. I know I’m not compassionate. I just don’t care.