There are some things you just can’t talk about. Or, even if you do, there’s no way to make them ok. Things that isolate you from everyone around you. That no one can really understand. Or accept. That you can’t accept about yourself.
So you’re all alone, tormenting yourself. Every little thing tips you over the edge. Because a large part of you knows you shouldn’t exist. And the rest of your mind is using all your energy desperately trying to distract you from that realization. Trying to manufacture meaning where the traditional foundations have been swept away.
I would get drunk, but there’s no alcohol in the house and buying more means facing my social anxiety. So I guess I’ll keep searching for something else to temporarily fill the void where my hope used to be. Good times.
16 comments
holy crap, awesome post. Business has certainly picked up on this website. I left a year or so ago because it was swamped by pre-teens complaining about heartache. Sorry that you feel so shyte, but I’m glad that I’m not alone in feeling this miserable way. My dealer texted me yesterday and I’ve been dreading going to meet him because he moved across town and having to wade through a sea of people to get to him turns my stomach.
Thanks! I take pride in my existential dread.
Dude if yu dont mind me askin where are yu from
I’m from the UK. Curious why you asked?
I jus thought yu nd I could get a drink nd discuss death stuff…
Ah, sorry to disappoint.
Yea yu really did man…
Someone once told me that self-pity is the ugliest emotion. That’s probably true. However, I’ve found that it’s also the most addictive emotion to indulge in. Besides rage, of course.
Best wishes with finding a void-filler, Husk.
Yes, I think that’s true. I’ve noticed it before in others. And yet I just can’t stop myself, even being aware of that. It’s a self-reinforcing cycle. ‘When you laugh, the whole world laughs with you. When you cry, you cry alone.’ But knowing that just makes me feel even more alone.
Thanks for the best wishes. After another fruitless night trying to distract myself, I’ve settled back on a kind of resolute stoicism – giving some of my time to simple things that might improve my situation without investing emotionally in the idea that any of them will ever get me to a place where I feel ok. We’ll see how far I get past breakfast before that collapses and I return to existential panic.
It is a self-reinforcing cycle, you are so very right about that.
I don’t think everybody cries alone, though. I’ve read posts on this site, and I’ve cried for the people who wrote them. I’m 100% sure I’m not the only one who does that. I’m also sure that most of us have done the same for friends and family. Humans don’t really like sharing misery, that’s true. But sometimes, we do it anyway.
I don’t know. I might not know what I’m talking about.
Also, that sounds like a very interesting plan. Interesting in that I’ve never heard of it before. How well did it work?
I know that I don’t know your real complete story, Husk, since you’ve kept a lot of it from us (as you’ve every right to do— Lord knows we all keep secrets here). But I just can’t help but think that you don’t deserve constant torment.
I’m not entirely convinced that anyone does. But if in fact some people do deserve it, I don’t think you’d be one of them. I think that should be reserved for the remorseless. You clearly aren’t remorseless.
My ‘plan’ got me through yesterday without a complete breakdown (though I came close.) But waking up today it’s just … gone. I’m so full of longing and regret and despair. I’m struggling to find the motivation to do even basic self-care when none of it will ever amount to anything.
I don’t know if anyone deserves constant torment. Who’s to say. But I can say that I deserve the suffering that my mind causes itself. The things I’ve left out are unforgivable. There’s no way to make them ok. And while I’m not remorseless, I’m also not remorseful. There’s no way I can live with that kind of remorse, or accept it. Accepting it fully means admitting that I shouldn’t exist. So my survival instinct kicks in, and I return to denial. I return to being the person who can want those awful things.
I’m sorry to hear that. But what do mean that the self-care won’t amount to anything? I don’t understand.
When I said “constant torment,” I meant what your mind is putting you through. Sorry that I wasn’t more clear.
Personally, I don’t believe in the existence of unforgivable crimes. At least, those are my spiritual beliefs. Some crimes are societally unforgivable, though, I’ll concede to that. But in spiritual terms, the only people who can’t be forgiven for the things they’ve done are the people who aren’t sorry. Okay, so you aren’t allowing yourself to be sorry. But only for the purpose of self-preservation. You are capable of it, at the very least. That has to mean something. Not even that you’re a good person. Just that you aren’t a monster, at least.
Once again I may not know what I’m talking about. I never thought that I could magically wipe away your guilt with words, and I’m sorry if it seems like that was my intention.
I guess I meant that self-care will never get me to the point of being ok. So it kind of feels like why bother. Why even try to take care of any needs when there are fundamental ones that are always out of reach.
I think beyond a thing being socially unacceptable, it’s maybe a question of being able to forgive yourself. I just can’t, try as I might. I’m the person who has thought these things, and done these things, and still is this thing. And I can’t accept that. Maybe it’s pride. But part of me feels someone like that shouldn’t exist in the world. Or be ok. I feel like someone like that deserves everything he gets.
I think it depends what you mean by ‘monster’. There are definitely aspects of my personality that most would consider pretty evil & horrific. That like I said, shouldn’t be allowed to exist in the world. But I don’t think I’m a psychopath or a sociopath. As you said, I am capable of feeling sorry (at times.) If I am a monster, it would be of the Jekyll and Hyde variety.
As always, I appreciate your input. It’s more that my subconscious is always looking for ways to magically wipe away my guilt, so any discussion tends to lead to me dissecting comments for it.
Have you always been this thing that you hate? The sort of person who has done, said, thought, been unforgivable things? Or did it all “start” at one point?
You don’t have to be specific. (Or answer at all, but, y’know. If you want.)
I don’t think so. But looking back, I do have childhood memories of thoughts (and actions) that indicate that I would turn into this person. Things that were kind of messed up, though I didn’t think twice about them at the time. Over my teenage years, that gradually developed into identifying with that side of myself – to using it in some sense. I still wouldn’t say I was ‘unforgivable’ at that point, mostly because of how naive I was. But I was well on my way.
Then, around the age of 20 (almost exactly 9 years ago), I finally went beyond the point of no return. I had dropped out of college shortly beforehand (running from crippling social anxiety), and I had a lot of free time. I was pretty depressed, and scared about what I was going to do next. And to avoid facing that, I gave in to that part of me. It was the first time it was able to fully express itself. And it felt so good at the time.
But I remember sitting at the train station a few days later (it was the first time I’d seen anyone in weeks), and suddenly the realization of what I’d become really hit me. ‘Shit. That’s who I am now. I’m one of those people. I’m fully outside of society. I’m the bad guy in everyone else’s story. I’m a monster. There’s no way I can ever tell anyone about this.’
For a few weeks I tried to resist that – I told myself it’s not who I really was, deep down. That I was better than that. But it had a grip on me by then, and I caved to it. I became obsessed by it. Giving in to it became the only thing in my life that felt good.
But that good feeling never lasted. And now I knew what I was. And in between, I started asking myself why. Why would I, or anyone else, become this awful. And I became incredibly depressed about life.
This went on for several years, and eventually due to changing circumstances it became harder to continue to act as I had before. But although my actions today may be less unforgivable, the thoughts are still the same. That part of me is still as strong as ever. It’s just expressed in a slightly different way. And it wants to go back. And even though it’s been something like 3 years now, I know that given the right circumstances, I could revert really easily. I can feel it. I’m still that same unforgivable person.
Social anxiety is damn..i hate myself for having it..it feels like they’ll just understand you after you die..