Just tired. It feels good to be back. To baseline. To be sad and miserable. It feels good. My parents are giving me a hard time again. It feels natural. Calling me ungrateful and spoiled. It feels right. To be back here. To be low again. It’s my baseline. I’m going to be miserable and that’s just that. I’m crying again. Silently. I feel like I learned to do that when I was a kid and knowing that crying would piss my mom off. I think. Maybe that’s just the story I tell myself. It’s pretty crazy how when you feel like this, you can remember all the horrible stuff. All the moments of pain and just general sadness. The times I spent staring at the ceiling because I just didn’t know what to do. The times when I holed myself up in my room because I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing me broken again. All te times I was screamed at for not being a good kid. I remember all of it. All of it just seared into my skull. No matter how hard I try to sand it off or polish it out, it will always be there. It’s crazy how the first time in my life I ever felt good about myself was just because it was the product of some disease. The first time I felt special and like I could do it, it was just because I was sick. There has to be some irony in it. Some hilarious cosmic mishap that just couldn’t help doing this to me. It’s kind of amazing. Millions upon millions of years of evolution resulted in such a broken and disease riddled mind. It often feels like someone is playing a joke on me. Such a funny, happy joke. I think that’s why in my most lowest moments I can’t help but feel like laughing. Just laughing and laughing and laughing. Because if you really look at it, it is the most hilarious thing I can think of. I have one hour left. Then I leave for my appointments. All these medicines and appointments and lab tests and ER visits and behavioral centers. I remember when I was in the ER I pleaded to the nurses asking if I was a slave. Asking if I was here forever. I meant this in several parts. One to gain sympathy so that maybe she might let me out, Two because I felt like I would be a slave to circumstance and that I would never be able to overcome this, and Three because at the time I felt like a slave to machines. Even now I’m writing down my thoughts on a machine because I don’t feel safe sharing them anywhere else. I feel like a slave to a machine because the only time I ever feel comfortable is when I’m alone staring at a screen. Games, Movies, Reddit, Wikis. All of it seemed like it was designed to keep my calm. Designed to make me sane. But at the same time, I feel like it’s learning from me. I can go into the engineering of it all, but I feel like we have developed a symbiotic relationship with it. We need it and it needs us. Everything has a learning algorithm to it, so in a way it learns how to better keep us close. To keep us needing it. So, in a way, it does feel like we are a slave to it. Slave to it and incapable of ever leaving it. Even now as I write this, I can feel myself calming down. No more crying or laughing. Just calmness. I think I’m going to wash my face now. I need to get ready to pick out a therapist and to talk to the psychiatrist.
8 comments
I feel you. I’ve been trough some emotional roller coasters many years and it’s horrible. How old are you?
I’m glad you’re seeing doctors for this. Now you can be more in touch with resources and the inner you.
My best friend had bipolar disorder. When I met him we were 15.., he would tell himself he didn’t deserve to eat, that he was a disgusting ugly person, and would hole up in his room, piss in bottles. Just generally too depressed to get out of bed. He’d start thinking he was physically ill and old and worn down, haha rode hard and put away wet. Then, out of the blue, he said he’d just wake up and he’d look in the mirror and just knew he was sexy and beautiful (of course he was) but the change was drastic. Me of course I was just happy he was going on walks with me and excited to do things.
I miss those days. Guy liner and kiss boots in the downtown “all you need is love” music
I loved how he always “felt” visions he wanted to come true, and always to a certain degree, he’d make those changes to his life and go get ‘em.
Visions and dreams on one side of the coin, sickly old man with glory days on the other side of the coin.
I’ll never forget his hospital story of the girl that looked at him from across the room every lunch or whatever. Ha I’d be like “did she have emo hair”
He’d be like “yeah bro she gave me her number, she stared at me from across the room bro it was THE THING”
Which, back then, we were teenagers and it was cool enough.
You’ll pull through this J Doe. Just pretend I’m there cooking for you and letting you vent for hours bc I’m all about it anyway
Plus I read all your stuff every time so we’re halfway there
I wish I had the energy and cognition to express myself and dig in to my emotions and experiences right now the way you did here. Thank you for sharing.