I know I am the problem, so fixing the problem means fixing me. I have tried fixing me many times and in many ways, but it never works, because I am the problem. I am so tired. I just want to die and end this joke of a life. I am 57, and I keep trying, but I get worse instead of better with every cycle.
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Tell me your story if you have the time, i would love to hear it
Want to hear my story…
I am 52, and my life’s a joke too, OP. I too would be interested to hear your story if you felt like telling it.
I sympathize with you and know how it feels to be so tired. We just keep going, hoping it will get better but it never does. I’m 54 and often wonder how I’ve managed to last this long. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and struggles.
I fear my story is pathetic rather than interesting. I have suffered from depression my whole life, even as a child, although when I was a child I did not understand that it was depression. I cried frequently and uncontrollably, and I tried ever so hard not to cry because everyone made fun of me, including my parents and teachers.
I made it through college with high marks, although teachers and classmates were baffled that I cried so much. I had some additional very evident problems, such as a total lack of ability to be assertive about anything or ask for anything. I was also unable to read articles or books of any length, although I could get through something if given enough time to break it down into teeny digestible bits. I have a severe attention span problem. By the time I get to the end of a sentence, I can’t remember how the sentence started. I don’t track. I don’t know why. I also can’t manage to accomplish anything unless it is in a structured environment.
The downside to completing college is that when I go for help now, everyone thinks I must be functional, and I feel like they don’t take me seriously when I try to describe my difficulties. They say I am feeling sorry for myself. I feel sorry about myself; I don’t know if that is the same thing. Presently, I have no money for help, so I guess it doesn’t matter.
I have not had a career; I have had bits and pieces of mostly short-term contract jobs. I am going through hell as I remember the opportunities I have been given but for some reason couldn’t make work. I kept trying but I seemed to get worse every time.
I am terrified of everyone; I have a phobia of driving; some days I don’t have the courage to go outside; I continue to be surprised at the things I should be able to handle but can’t.
I am so tired. Of being me. I tried to be more successful, but I couldn’t find the missing pieces to make it work. And now I’m old and tired and nobody. And I will probably be homeless soon. And yes the problem is me. And I want to quit being me. [Insert punch line here.]
Yes, leo, I would like to hear your story.