Giving in

I don’t know how much longer I can stand the uselessness of my life.

I hit a lot of those success markers.  I am 30.  I have my own place, car, job, life.  I’ve had a number of intense long term relationships; my ex of a six-year relationship left me in October.  I have a large group of friends who are, frankly, some of the very best people on the planet.  I am loved by many.  I have a Master’s degree in a field where there is at least some work.  I volunteer.  I create.

And I just feel done.  You ever make scrambled eggs and just overcook them?  I feel like that.

I fill and fulfill the roles set before me, but I’m not effective.  I’m not the best anyone can do, I’m not the first phone call, I’m not consistent.  This daily living, the debt from school and the doubt that life gets any better is eating away at it.  Everything is alarm bells – I am apathetic about even the most exciting of things occurring around me.  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.  I can’t see it.  I’ve lost hope/faith in myself and my little universe.

I have had three previous attempts.  Prozac at 16, razors at 21, pain medication at 23.  I had a plan for my 30th birthday, which I allowed to pass.  I regret that choice.  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?  pills?  We’ll see).  I don’t get better, and I don’t want to be a burden on those I care for the most.  Everything about depression just keeps getting louder, bigger, and it’s taking over my head.  I work in the field and, ironically, refuse to access mental health services.  I’m snapping with rubber bands and taking vicoden to get through days without alarming anyone.

I don’t get better.  I don’t get out of debt.  I don’t learn how to survive this world I find myself in.  I don’t do any of the age roles here either – direct, marry, have children.  I don’t see a point because none of these things have meaning anymore.  Everything is a bandaid, and I can’t fix me.  I’ve tried, for so long I’ve tried.  Survival rate currently at 100% despite close calls, but I can’t fix it.  I’m tired of trying.  I just want to give in.