What if you’re really as worthless, hopeless, and lost as you fear? What if you’re not only completely alone, but utterly insignificant to anyone? What if there’s really nothing that you can do to make things right?
How do you go on living, with that awareness in your mind? Without it consuming you? Without just curling up in a ball, or slumping, staring vacantly at the wall. How do you live, without constantly wanting to just end yourself?
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You (I) live because although I’m absolutely miserable, some part of me wishes I could have a fulfilling life. Some part of me wants to think I can fix things somehow. Some part of me is scared enough of death, of what if it’s worse, that it stops me when I’m about to commit suicide. So I live because you trapped, because I can’t break the cage of fear. And I hope that someday I can find the hope…or break the cage.
Wish I had a better answer, but that’s my sentiment on it
No, that’s a pretty good summary of the why. Still gotta figure out the how though.
I’ve tried to find acceptance with it. Worry not what others expect of me and the standards society has imposed.
For me, it’s entirely possible I’m not as bad as I deem myself to be but the results of my efforts don’t lie. And like the children who play sports and don’t keep score, everyone knows when it’s a blowout.
That and I sometimes stare vacantly at the walls. Also, tai chi
I live because what else am I going to do? It’s a binary choice when it comes down to it for me. Live or not, if it doesn’t matter to others (it does in my case, sort of) it shouldn’t matter to me. I try to be easy on myself, mostly because in my situation it’s a marathon not a race. I have 50+ more years before I’m dirt and I try to take my peace with that. If despair is unavoidable what can you do but endure? Stare at the wall! What comes of it but a feeling of being empty?
There isn’t anything wrong with feeling empty. There’s nothing wrong with hurting. I’m sorry it’s happening to you, but you can survive this. That’s my take.
I suppose if I really could just stare at the wall/curl up in a ball all day then it wouldn’t be such a problem. If I could just embrace the emptiness.
But in order to keep living shit needs to get done. And I can’t function in that mindset.
It does feel wrong. It’s not just that you hurt. It’s that the hurt defines your experience of life. It’s not some distracting side experience. It’s at the base of everything you think. And I can’t disconnect from that.
It wasn’t my original intention to come off as implying the pain was a side problem, but rereading what I said it’s a valid counterpoint. My guiding point is to do as I must. at this point i don’t have the strength/will to end it entirely, so I have to bargain with despair. For a few hours of wallowing I can usually get 10-30 minutes of functioning. I go through the motions, not thinking or caring because my hands know how to do the few tasks I must.
I don’t know how to disconnect other than to get through. One thing I have tried is the process of deciding if this is the worst moment in my life. It’s a grim mind exercise in which you think back to see if you have ever felt worse. For me that helps me take a step back. If it is the worst (sometimes it is) then that means in the past things were better, which means that there is a reasonable chance that it will be better again.
If it isn’t the worst, then that means that I’ve already been through worse and survived.
All I’ve ever found are tricks to endure, I wish I knew how to reverse or undo the pain. Sorry.
I wish it was only routine things I had to do, that I could handle without thinking. The tricky part is having to deal with people, without them realizing that you’re fundamentally broken as a human being, and situations becoming awkward.
Life only ever seems to get more full of despair, but thinking about it rationally I’m sure there have been worse moments – extreme panic attacks for example. I know I survived them, but they were usually of limited duration – days rather than weeks. I’m not sure how to survive the gradual worsening over the years. It only seems to be going in one direction, and I can’t see how things could turn around.
But thank you. Your general thinking seems sound.
Right now, I live to care for my goofy cats. They have taught me a lot, given me something to care about. It would mean a lot to me to see them through to the ends of their lives, since they would be the first commitment I’ve made to anyone other than myself. Whether or not I matter to anyone else is of little significance anymore, for the most part. I’m sickened by the amazingly predictable and boring ritual that being alive presents to us. Good grief. I mean, seriously, I look around, watch the news, and can only think “Really?” Why do we live like this?? Sighhhhhh.
Can’t argue with pets as a meaning of life. I’m extremely attached to the cutest/most hilarious Golden Retriever in the world, although I’m not her primary carer anymore, so it’s not the same. The thought of her growing old and dying kills me though. I raised her from a puppy, and I’ve spent more time with her than any other pet (or probably any person in my life for that matter.) I feel like she gets me, as least as much as a dog can.
I’m glad for you if you can disconnect from the rest of the world to an extent. It can’t all be bad though. Somewhere, there are people living meaningful, interesting lives. They just aren’t covered in the media. They’re too busy enjoying the moment.
It’s not very uplifting, and probably not very effective, but the only answer I can come up with involves a lot of escapism.
Yes, I’ve relied on that a lot over the years, but I think it’s starting to wear thin. I don’t seem to be able to invest fantasy or delusion with the same degree of meaning as I used to, or immerse myself in anything for long anymore. It’s like a part of my brain has cottoned on to the fact that I’ve been conning myself all this time, and it’s putting it’s foot down.
I re-read your question. And I let it sink in.
Now my “I live for my cats” answer seems, eh, not so accurate.
You’re implying that all the defense mechanisms I’d been relying on have failed, or simply ran their course, and now, I’m completely aware that all is lost. Which, in.a sense, could mean that as of right now, all is already lost, but I still have some functioning defenses.
Wow. I guess the answer is, for me at least, I don’t know. If my cats were removed from the picture, at this point, I’d be hard pressed to want to continue on. If I knew I was universally insignificant, completely alone, worthless and hopeless, well, what’s the point? I don’t know how I’d live, how I’d find strength. I really dont. It would certainly make my way out a much simpler decision. There would be no logical reason to hesitate, other than fear of punishment in a possible afterlife, which is sort of an issue with me, so maybe that right there is my real answer – I’d have to figure out that little dilemma, ensuring me even more misery here. Ahh hell, can I just go back to my first answer? Here kitty, kitty. Very good question, though. Really had to rethink it.
Thank you for giving it that much thought. Yes, that’s what I was kind of getting at. It’s not that I know any of those things with absolute certainty, but feeling at my lowest, they do start to seem increasingly clear.
I also fear punishment after death, although rationally speaking, I don’t believe in it. But I was raised with religion, so that fear still has a pretty powerful grip on my mind.
But it’s always better to focus on a positive reason, as long as it still makes sense for you.