And that makes me sad, sort of.
My middle name is Maree, and I’ve had serious depression for about three-and-a-half years now. I believe the causes have an older age, but most of it is a bit foggy. Do I write “had” depression, as if it was an object? I had a hat that I used to wear everyday, no matter the weather, but now I don’t anymore. Or is it more of a condition: I’ve been depressed for three-and-a-half years, and the fact that it hasn’t let up tremendously shows it’s more that a bit of the blues.
I’m straying from the point. I don’t know if I even had a point to begin with.
Right, causes.
I think there are layers to depression, with central issues surrounded by trivial factors that aren’t making a person’s day any better. For me, inherent problems range from an alcoholic mother to an irresponsible father to their bitter divorce to current (could you call 7 years current?) living arrangements with grandparents who are now exceedingly ill to the point where they may be in a nursing home for the remainder of their lives. Trivial factors that don’t really help include a Summer with no one to really talk with, an upcoming year with additional night classes to AP coursework and responsibilities at home, and an absolutely ridiculous crush-leaning-towards obsession over a teacher that I don’t need at the moment. Or ever.
I know this website was created with the intention of people sharing their stories as to how they overcame their suicidal thoughts or recoveries from suicidal attempts or severe depression that landed them into a unforgiving pit or perhaps a hospital.
I’ve never tried to kill myself, I’ve always been too afraid of the pain. I would pick up knives in the kitchen when no one was there and imagine sliding it across my wrist or neck- sometimes I’d imagine it so vividly I could actually feel a dull impression of a movement. I would bite my hands and arms instead of using razors, creating bruises instead of scabs. My grandpa is an antique gun collector, and I sleep on a futon in his old office, making it very easy to slip into the closet in the middle of the night and just press an unloaded barrel of a varnished pistol against my head, crying. There was one time when I was attending a 4-day state-wide theatre festival at a convention center connecting to a hotel that I was looking at the city from 30 floors up. There were a few other high school students (I don’t know whether to call them kids or near-adults) with me, exploring the top of the hotel as it was beginning to be nighttime. There was a skyline, with just a glass railing and a little ledge that went between me and falling. I almost climbed over. I didn’t, of course- just stared down, hugging the glass. I imagined the looks on their faces as they saw me disappear from their sight. Then I wondered if they would even notice at all.
That ended a little more than a year ago, all that. Except the biting, I sometimes do that when I get anxious, like an animal.
My time in serious depression was at a point where I couldn’t get suicide out of my head and I spent day after day in bed and a comatose-like state (I even stopped going to school, I had to be “homeschooled”, meaning not actual homeschooling but a year off doing what I have just described). I saw it as a rabbit hole I burrowed in and never wanted to leave. I nearly lived by Hamlet’s soliloquy, and almost lost the fear of what dreams may come to such solemn sleepers.
I got out of it, somehow. My mom, when she was sober, became a drill sergeant in her daily phone calls, and got me a counselor. She set up tight schedules for getting assignments completed so I could actually finish some classes and return to public school the following year. She pulled me out of the hole by the tail, no matter how much I was kicking and screaming.
Because of her, I had an alright year last year. Started in a new school, got great grades, went through one day at a time. Some stress here and there, my usual doubt and lack of self-confidence gave us a start, but nothing nearly as bad as the few years previous (especially the “homeschooling” year).
Well, she’s not with me right now. She’s drunk again. Every time I try to call her nowadays it seems she’s always drinking.
She’s been an alcoholic for a long time, since I was born. But she quit drinking when I was in her belly, and that makes me love her more. And I hate her for that.
I know this isn’t a forum or webpage for children of alcoholics, but I know I’m not the only child of an alcoholic who feels guilty for some reason or another. Who gets an epiphany as to why their parent might drink. Who wonders why they should even have their existence. Should I write “have” like it’s an object? Or should it be considered a condition?
I’m starting to get those feelings again. I don’t know if I want them or not. So I watched an ASMR video in order to bring me some level of meditative peace, which they are known for bringing… and the guy said to talk to someone if I’m feeling this sort of way.
And so I’m typing to strangers.
What a strange world we’re in today, huh?
5 comments
Random stranger here, and yes, a very strange world indeed. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen someone on here introduce themselves by their middle name, hmm. And I suppose it’s both, you’ve “had” depression (a medical condition), and “been” depressed (a state of being).
“I think there are layers to depression, with central issues surrounded by trivial factors that aren’t making a person’s day any better”
That’s a pretty good way of putting it.
Sorry about your mom. I’m sure there are a lot of people on this site who can relate to that problem. Personally, I’ve ended up more fond of alcohol than my parents ever were. But that saddens me in its own right. I mean, it’s not to the point where it’s an issue. Not yet, anyway. But you sure as hell can’t let it get in the way of raising your kids properly. If you’re at that point, you’ve got a problem.
I hope things work out for you, without a sad and twisted end. But we do as we feel we have to. Still, sometimes the best and brightest stories are born from tragedy. Cya ’round, Middle Name Maree.
…Thank you. In all sincerity, thanks for listening. I hope things work out, too- for me and for you. No one comes here for simple browsing, I think. I’d like to ask about your story, but if you don’t want to say, that’s alright. I just wanted to say thank you. Cya.
“No one comes here for simple browsing, I think.”
Hah, I suppose not. Not for that reason alone, anyways. But I can’t speak for everyone. Personally I found this site a few months ago by simply typing “suicide” into a search engine. And yes, of course I have my own reasons for being here. Oddly enough, despite having been lurking around this site since February of this year, dropping a line or two at random here and there, I’ve never made a post explaining my “situation”. I’ve just read about other peoples problems, and dropped my two cents in every once in a while. I suppose that’s just the type of guy I am. I’ve thought about making that post though, and I’ll probably get around to it at some point. Although I have explained myself, more or less, to a couple of people on here who have asked.
So ask away, I don’t mind. I think I probably enjoy blathering on about myself and my problems just as much as anyone else, I just try to avoid doing so without a reason or invitation. And maybe that’s another fault of mine, keeping too much in my head. Who knows. But since you asked, beware – incredibly long rambling explanation incoming.
My story. Hmm. It’s not much of a story really, just a general state of sadness, I guess. I don’t consider myself “actively” suicidal. It’s not something I’m going to do soon, or something that I am actively making realistic plans for. Just something I have a bit of a fascination with, I suppose. It might very well be the way my life ends, eventually. But for the moment, I do want to give myself a chance. I’m only 19 after all, a youngin’ yet, as my friend’s country-as-hell grandpa would say. And don’t get me wrong, I’m very thankful for that. For the things that I do have. There is hope for me, at least I have that. It’s more than some people have.
So why do I feel the way I do? Well, for a number of reasons. Like many others, I guess loneliness is the main issue. One problem is a certain girl who haunts my thoughts. I thought she was the answer to everything, but the only thing she ended up doing was confirming the hatred I already had for myself. Nothing makes me feel more childish, more selfish, and more stupid than she does. Then there’s the fact that I can’t relate to the vast majority of people in this world. To be honest, I consider most of them idiots who are concerned with all the wrong things. People who cannot think for themselves, mindlessly playing the game of life, living their day-to-day lives without a care for anything that doesn’t directly affect them. One of the reasons I’ve taken a liking to this site is that the people here seem to usually be intelligent people who “notice the little things”. I swear intelligent people have more of a tendency to get depressed. There’s a quote I like that goes something like “Happiness in intelligent people is one of the rarest things I know”. I have found that to be relatively true.
Another problem is I’m very lazy, a constant failure, a constant disappointment. It’s my own fault, I know, but it’s hard to change when it feels as if there’s no reason or inspiration for anything. I’m a high school drop-out. My high school days basically consisted of me sleeping in one desk to the other. They would wake me up to put an assignment on my desk, then I’d usually just go back to sleep. Had straight 0’s in some classes. This wasn’t entirely out of just laziness, I did it because I knew I was going to drop out anyways. I actually had a valid reason to drop out, but it would take awhile to explain. It’s fine though, my friend dropped out and he’s in college right now. I already got my GED so it’s possible for me to go to college as well if I was ever ambitious enough to do it. So it’s not as if my life is ruined in an educational/job opportunity sense. But when you’re alone and you have no one, it feels like there’s no point to doing anything, no reason. So it’s hard to push yourself to do things, jobs, getting into college, etc. But if you never do anything, it’ll be hard to meet people. So it’s a bit of a back and forth problem.
That’s it really. Loneliness, pressures, and isolation in the sense that I feel like there is almost no one I can honestly relate to, no one who really thinks in the same ways I do, are my problems. It’s as simple and foolish as that, really. There are other things as well, stomach issues that have made me too skinny for my own good, things that have happened in my past, and other random “trivial” things. Yeah, that’s it I suppose. But even considering all of this, I think I will be fine, as long as I get my shit together and stop being so damned lazy. At the end of the day, there’s still a lot to be thankful for. And a lot to work towards. Because, despite all the hell this world can throw at you, there is often an earthly heaven awaiting for those who try to reach it.
*Raises glass*… here’s to a future much happier than the past, for the both of us, Maree.
I only visit this site when I’m feeling the sort of sadness that scares you. I guess reading these posts serve as a substitute for planning disagreeable activity.
I admire your outlook on the conditions you find yourself in. I don’t know you, but I can relate to feeling disappointed with oneself and one’s failures. Yet you seem positive- not optimistic, but aware that there’s still things to smile about now and again. Again, I admire that tenfold.
I had to quit high school for a year because my dad didn’t want to pay fines for excessive absences. I wouldn’t go to school because I was afraid of what others may think of me if I failed to meet expectations. A bit ironic, as it turned out. The fear became so strong that I had trouble moving and forming words to explain myself. My dad pulled me out, which didn’t really help- it only made me more of a recluse.
So I understand feeling like a failure, in that respect.
I don’t enjoy disliking people, but I can relate to that as well. Parents or older people in general tend to give advice on forming relationships with people, being more social, by starting with simple small talk. But I loathe small talk. And in turn, I begin to dislike people who bring on small talk on a regular basis.
You’re right, I don’t know one intelligent person who could be characterized by the word “happy”; unless the person is criticizing or dissecting (in the figurative sense, not literal) something. Oddly enough, intelligent people love to do that sort of thing. No wonder ignorance is bliss. I loved your quote much more, it’s more fitting.
I’d like to ask you about one other thing. I hate the fact that I’m afraid. I’m still afraid of people, and failing, and failing to meet people’s expectations. I don’t want to be afraid. But I’m afraid that fear will stay indefinitely until it drives me to suicide. Suicide fascinates me to a certain extent, usually towards the aspect of its implication in society. But nothing fascinates me or interests me anymore. And that upsets me most of all. So I guess I’m asking you, how do I stop being afraid?
I apologize for being so sporadic in my writing. I’m just shaken up, is all. I’m glad to know your story, River. It makes me understand how a forum such as this one can be a positive force in a person’s life. From your writing, I think you would do well in college- as long as you’re not “lazy”, as you’ve described yourself. I also think that nothing in one’s life can be considered “trivial”, especially if it brings out a considerable emotional response.
If anything, our lives are certainly not boring. But maybe boring can be beneficial once in a while.
I’ll raise a glass to that toast any day, for a future that doesn’t reflect the past and a future that isn’t cut short anytime soon.
I visit pretty often, for whatever reason. I guess for me it functions as a sort of gloomy type of people-watching. I’ve always liked to be in public places, malls and restaurants and what-not, with headphones in, listening to some music while just watching the people go by, wondering about their lives. What they’ve been through. That might be sort of a weird thing to compare to visiting this forum, but it has its similarities. Just… observing life in a somber sort of way.
Yeah, I guess you could call my viewpoint positive. I like to acknowledge the facts, and the fact is that when it comes to life, I didn’t get such a bad draw. Not really. That’s another effect forums like this can have on people like me, the realization that if some of these people can get through what they do, then surely I can suffer through what little I’m faced with. I’m sure there are plenty of starving Ethiopians who would love to give me a good *****-smackin’ for ever feeling sorry for myself, haha. But of course everyone’s problems are their own, and important to them individually. Just because someone has it worse than you doesn’t mean you can automatically be happy. But you can be appreciative.
Never been big on small talk either. I’m usually pretty quiet until a topic I actually find interesting comes up. But I guess that’s how a lot of people are.
How do you stop being afraid? Oh man, you’re probably asking the wrong person. I guess it depends on what exactly you’re afraid of. As far as people go, try and focus only on the ones you actually care about. Ignore the random people, don’t worry about what they think, unless it’s someone you’re interested in getting to know. Fear of failure and fear of failing to meet expectations can be beneficial, motivational. I know sometimes it was the only thing that would get me in gear in the past. Just try not to let it define your worth. You’re not here to serve. Be selfish. Be self-serving. Of course, this is all easier said than done. Social anxiety and self-esteem problems are deep-rooted and complex, and need drastic changes to overcome. But everyone is affected to some degree. Nature has designed us to care about what others think. It’s just part of our biological function. And you can’t deny your nature.
Anyway, sorry for the kind of convoluted answer. But then, a lot of honest answers are.