I think the internet is causing a lot of problems for me. I have a habit of looking up answers to impossible questions, such as what’s wrong with me, why was I born, what’s the point of going on another day? And I always get the same answers. Life if a gift. Don’t waste it. But I have to wonder if it really is. Maybe it is for some people, but not for me. It’s like when you get something for Christmas from your grandma that you really didn’t want. And you’d feel really guilty about throwing it away because they obviously took the time to choose it out for you. But at the same time, you just end up leaving it on a shelf somewhere, and every now and again you look up at it and wonder “why do I have this?” That’s the basic gist about how I feel. So when people say life is a gift and we should treasure it, I’m just thinking “Well yeah, but I never asked for it.” It’s not my fault I was given something I didn’t want in the first place. Why couldn’t I have signed a damn waiver? Like, before I was born, it’d be nice if God just sat me down and told me “This is all the shit you’re going to put up with in your life. You in?” I think I’d probably say no. And go back to not existing or floating in limbo or whatever.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad these random internet people care enough to try and talk me down from these ledges (even if I don’t think they’re trying to hard to see it from my perspective), but a lot of time their advice just makes me feel at best confused, and at worst extremely guilty. They range from things like get right with God (Honesty, I don’t feel comfortable with asking him for anything these days. Kinda feels like I’m taking out a loan I don’t intend to pay back.), get busy and do something productive (I’ve now got a full schedule in college and I’m the busiest I’ve ever been. Honestly, this might have made my moods worse.), to simply “stop thinking about it so much.” (Because you know, that’s my problem.) Of course, I realize these things probably worked for someone, or else why would they post them, but I’m not entirely sure anymore if there is a “one size fits all” solution. One of the things I’ve learned about having Asperger’s is that we think about things differently, and different things have different meanings to me than with other people, and maybe not everyone else’s experience is the same as yours. So when people tell me what worked for them to pull them out of depression, I feel happy for them but that doesn’t mean I’m going find the same catharsis from their methods.
Of course, as interesting as that hypothesis is, it doesn’t necessarily do me any favors. But I’m going to try to force myself not to look up depressing shit like “who cares if I kill myself” or “what’s the point in living”. Because I’ve heard it all before. And maybe I should stop spending so much time on the internet too. I guess all in all, it’s just a matter of trial and error here.
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I can relate to your post. I have gone through a similar process about why I am living and whether I should continue. Rather than seeing my own life on earth as a gift as it most certainly isn’t, I see it as means to gift, gifts, and to a gift.
As best as I can tell, two depressed anxious people most likely copulated and co-created me just for whatever distraction value I might offer them.
It would have been amazing to be told everything, given all pertinent data, and then asked, “You in?”
Those are all very good questions.
“What’s wrong with me?”
“Why was I born?”
“What is the point in going on another day?”
“Who cares if I kill myself?”
“What’s the point in living?”
The masses would be sure to tell you: Your family and friends would care.
I suppose I complex some of these questions, but I never worry about the answers.
Maybe you are alive because human life has existed for 4,000 some years. We all go around the “proverbial” mulberry bush. The answers could be complex, but for some reason there IS man and there IS nature and YOU, you were planted into your mother. You didn’t become YOU until you were taught to recognize “Personal Identity.” Things such as I have (I.e. I have this mother and this father.. as an infant you learn this) ) I feel, I *insert verb*, I operate
All Strife is Strife and All Turmoil is Turmoil
All men are unique, but that doesn’t mean you serve any significant alteration from the standard. We are modeled after a prototype. We begin, We end. The questions you pose serve a purpose through your journey and that is – you on a search for your own answers but trying to find someone else (in this the someone else’s poses as the internet) to nudge you along through your discovery of such answers.
This a beautiful comment. Perchance, have you read Hume? Either way, beautiful comment.
I used to enjoy reading really philosophical books but I don’t have time anymore nor do I enjoy it (or anything for that matter) I’m too close to committing to read anything, I don’t have a lot of time to embark upon fruitless ventures, but if you know of anything I absolutely must watch or read before I’d go, I’d love to spend my last days with it.
You might find something in common with Scottish Philosopher David Hume in his brief essay “Of Suicide”. It’s a google away. He being pro-choice in the 18th century when it was even less popular than it is now was remarkable. After three paragraphs he goes to to the heart of the matter.
Ah, then do I have a gift for you:
The world is a dark and terrifying place full of problems, paradoxes and disease.
That’s not a reason to give up, it’s just the way the map lays. Here we are in the darkest parts of our minds and perhaps souls, contemplating giving up. Good! Great men and idiots have done the same as us. Yes, some picked up and did some ambitious stuff. Others snuffed it and lived no more.
I don’t think that we as sick people “owe” anything to society. Society doesn’t owe us anything either. I offer absolute absolution of social debt. We have the choice to attempt to end it, and in not choosing that we choose to live.
Life is no gift, life and awareness are a burden. Intelligence is the most unkind thing ever obtained by relatively harmless omnivores. As humans we can imagine the world better, or worse. What is worse still is the way the odds are stacked against those who are healthy and want to live. Life has a cruel correction for those people and it’s going to be brutal.
Death holds no surprises for the depressed, no relief, no wonder, it is just the end of the story. There is no fucking romance here. Being sick is a cruel joke that others won’t even validate with a laugh.
Anyway, regardless of why, live and breath we both do for the moment. We talk to keep our mouths working, think to keep our minds working and walk to keep our legs working. Perhaps we should adapt to keep those mental processing working.
Someday something productive may come along, some wonderful project worth doing. When life is worth living, the world worth producing the work for: I want to be ready.