I don’t know how much longer I can stand the uselessness of my life.
I hit a lot of those success markers. Â I am 30. Â I have my own place, car, job, life. Â I’ve had a number of intense long term relationships; my ex of a six-year relationship left me in October. Â I have a large group of friends who are, frankly, some of the very best people on the planet. Â I am loved by many. Â I have a Master’s degree in a field where there is at least some work. Â I volunteer. Â I create.
And I just feel done. Â You ever make scrambled eggs and just overcook them? Â I feel like that.
I fill and fulfill the roles set before me, but I’m not effective. Â I’m not the best anyone can do, I’m not the first phone call, I’m not consistent. Â This daily living, the debt from school and the doubt that life gets any better is eating away at it. Â Everything is alarm bells – I am apathetic about even the most exciting of things occurring around me. Â I am done being in this world.
I have the strong sense that there is not an improvement from this point, that none of the situation gets better – not for me, not for this world and society I function in. Â I can’t see it. Â I’ve lost hope/faith in myself and my little universe.
I have had three previous attempts. Â Prozac at 16, razors at 21, pain medication at 23. Â I had a plan for my 30th birthday, which I allowed to pass. Â I regret that choice. Â I regret having to put on the face, and then having to make a new plan.
I’m going to set the date, make the plan (gas? Â pills? Â We’ll see). Â I don’t get better, and I don’t want to be a burden on those I care for the most. Â Everything about depression just keeps getting louder, bigger, and it’s taking over my head. Â I work in the field and, ironically, refuse to access mental health services. Â I’m snapping with rubber bands and taking vicoden to get through days without alarming anyone.
I don’t get better. Â I don’t get out of debt. Â I don’t learn how to survive this world I find myself in. Â I don’t do any of the age roles here either – direct, marry, have children. Â I don’t see a point because none of these things have meaning anymore. Â Everything is a bandaid, and I can’t fix me. Â I’ve tried, for so long I’ve tried. Â Survival rate currently at 100% despite close calls, but I can’t fix it. Â I’m tired of trying. Â I just want to give in.