Presumably I’m resisting suicide because of some kind of survival instinct. And I can’t convince myself it would be best to try and overcome that – at least while my parents are still alive and so invested in me.
Which leaves me trying to make my life less miserable. And I honestly don’t have a clue. My body leaves me uncomfortable most of the time – my digestion, skin, back, teeth – all cause me pain. I’m constantly tired – even when I get lots of sleep. It’s like there’s nothing in the tank. I wake up, have breakfast, and I just want to go back to sleep or curl up in a ball. I rarely have the energy to focus on or enjoy anything. I can’t face the world. I can barely function.
I’m completely alone 6/7 days a week. I can’t do social interaction without crippling anxiety. I have no real hope of ever finding a partner, or even a friend that I enjoy being around. And I get regular reminders that I’m irredeemable and shouldn’t even attempt to form relationships anyway.
But still, I have to try and somehow make things feel a little less shitty. The problem is that my brain is fucked. The only ways I know of coping are what led me here in the first place.
2 comments
I so feel this way a lot. Not the pain part but just the alone part. It is like I was born the wrong species.
I don’t remember feeling alone until the age of 9. Since then it’s been an ever growing part of me. There were moments of almost connection, but I couldn’t break through to feeling comfortable with anyone. And now the isolation is so complete that I can’t see it ever changing.
Wishing for you the experience of deep connection and peace, or failing that the strength to push past loneliness that I rarely feel in myself. Sending virtual/imaginary hugs.