The thoughts continue to get worse.
I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not going to die. There’s just going to be less of me every day. This is getting to be too much to even distract myself from it. I’m not going to ever be able to kill myself. Everything left inside of me (every last scrap of thoughts and feelings and personhood and egoic cohesion and memory) is eroding and there’s already basically nothing left and I’m just left… incapable of existing in the same space as this truth.
No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream.
How do I cope with the fact that for decades I will only see a slow descent further into the labyrinth of my own mind? I’m so young that I won’t die for decades and decades.
I guess this is how it ends. Awful. I wonder what it’d be like to be a former friend of mine?? Imagine you have an online friend who spirals so hard that you lose all contact with them besides them occassionaly saying “hey. yeah im still alive. no im still not able to move or really do anything. nice to hear you’re okay”
I’m not depressed, fwiw. The thoughts are horrible but they’re distinctively not depression. I don’t really have the capacity to be depressed?. It’s: something else. It used to be OCD, but it feels detached, separated, autonomous and deeper rooted nowadays, so that feels like a misnomer.
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Hi, I’ve been lurking on this site for a while and your post speaks to me more than anything else I’ve read. I’m also not depressed, not currently suicidal, but I can feel myself becoming less every day. It’s just like you said with former friends, there’s nothing more to say to them so I’ve stopped communicating. I guess it’s because they represent the residual part of me that dwells in reality, and I don’t understand that part anymore.
When you talk about ‘the labyrinth of my own mind’ what does that mean exactly? Do you zone out staring at a blank wall, or is it something more tangible like getting lost in books, art or writing? Or even drugs and sleep?
Also (ignore if this is too personal) is there a specific trauma or event that broke your mind? Sorry about all the questions but I guess I’m trying to understand myself the same way. I also have symptoms of OCD but that’s not it. It’s like you said, something autonomous and deeper rooted. Doctors and therapists have it all wrong.
By the labyrinth in my head, I mean like… The intrusive thoughts (which I didn’t and won’t detail, but they’re violating and awful) sort of shut off my ability to do or think about almost anything? I can distract myself; run my brain like a screensaver more or less, but I can’t:
– Move, for the most part
– Do literally anything besides look at my computer
– I sit in one place every day because the thoughts are agonizing and loud and I can’t hear myself think over them!
And like a labyrinth, I only get more lost in the thoughts, they surround me more, it’s worse and worse every day and it’s kind of maddening, I guess? It was definitely OCD before, but it’s… different now. Thank you for replying.
This sounds like dissociation, maybe triggered by OCD thinking? Idk.
That sounds like me only I’m not so bad off (yet). I can still do menial tasks and sometimes productive things but only when theres a threat of more pain if I don’t do them.
But most of the time it’s like you said with intrusive thoughts literally jamming my brain. For me the thoughts are traumatic memories violent and gory. Its like how the fuck can you carry on a normal conversation with those scenes in front of you.
As for doing nothing, I try to sleep in the daytime so at night I have an excuse to do nothing and stare at the darkness.
Obviously we’re losing to these thoughts. I think the only thing that might help would be a forceful reprogramming, being ripped out of our current situation and overloaded with new images and sensations. But thats all science fiction. Clockwork Orange crap. Truth is there’s no cure, especially if we’re left on ourown.
One fun thing (sarcasm) is channeling my ocd into watching the scale go down every day from not eating, so by doing nothing I’m accomplishing ‘something’. Wasting away physically to match the mental wasting I guess?