I haven’t written anything in a while. I’m not exactly sure what the reason is for that. At least part of it is that I don’t know what to write about. Someone said “write what you know”. So, here’s what I know, the whole ugly truth.
I’ve known how I’m going to die since I was 14. It was never a ‘how?’, only a ‘when?’. From my earliest struggles with depression, I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to overcome it. I knew that it would never truly go away and eventually it would get so bad that I wouldn’t be able to take it anymore. There were a few times in my life when I felt okay for long enough that I started to wonder if maybe it did just go away. But it never lasted.
People who don’t struggle with depression don’t really understand. It’s not just feeling sad. I cry for hours. I’ve missed work, classes, events because I couldn’t stop crying. I make excuses. I tell people I’m not feeling well. I tell them I was too busy with others things. I tell them I forgot. I never tell them the truth- that I was in bed, crying, wondering if today is the day. It’s not just feeling low. I hate myself. I am pathetic and weak and stupid. I deserve to be lonely and miserable. I deserve to feel like shit. I deserve to die.
But I don’t die. The reason why I haven’t killed myself yet is because I know how much pain it would cause the people who care about me. I try to convince myself that everyone else thinks of me the way I think about myself, that I’m a burden and everyone would secretly be happy if I died. But I know that’s not true. Well, maybe not completely true. I’m a miserable person, but an excellent utilitarian. My being alive makes me (and a few others) unhappy, but my suicide makes more people unhappy.
I think I’ve hit bottom. Well, I’ve been at the bottom for a while now. I just can’t take it anymore. I know I could go to a shrink, take pills, go to AA and maybe things will get better. But I don’t want to get better. I just want it to be over.
I know that my life really isn’t so bad. I try to think of all the people who have it much worse than I do. I try to laugh as often as I can. I try to see all that is beautiful and good in the world. I try to pretend that things will get better. It doesn’t really help. I drink to numb the pain. It doesn’t help in the long run, but it helps when I’m in the worst moments. Of course, I do stupid things when I’m drunk. I don’t even care. I’m kinda glad I smashed my fingers with a hammer. The physical pain is a nice distraction. Physical pain is temporary, emotional pain is endless. That’s why ‘cutters’ injure themselves.
I think about committing suicide every day, and have for months.
Writing helps. It might be the only thing I don’t completely suck at.
4 comments
You DO write very well… and I’m sure there are many other things that you do well. I’ve been dealing with depression for as long as I can remember… and things have been quite challenging lately. You mentioned that seeing someone could help… and it is probably a good idea. What if you could put these feelings behind you? Perhaps the depression would linger but you would be able to manage it better. Please don’t give up on yourself.
I actually wrote that about 6 months ago. Since then, I’ve changed a few things in my life, but nothing really ever changes. I still feel the same way. I’m at the point where I just have no motivation to do anything anymore. I try, and I fail; eventually I build myself up to the point that I can try again, and again, I fail. Wash, rinse & repeat.
I don’t have a job or health insurance, so therapy isn’t really an option. I’ve realized since I wrote that, I have some serious mental issues. I’m afraid that I’ll have to be institutionalized. Then the question becomes: what is worse, being a depressed failure, being dead or being in a mental institution for the rest of my life?
In some places, there may be programs in place to provide no-cost or low-cost assistance. If you’re not working, you might be eligible. I’ve used the “wash, rinse, repeat” phrase myself… and sometimes life becomes like the movie “Groundhog Day” in which the same events play out over and over. You HAVE made it this far in life…. I have to believe that you’re doing something right. Honestly, I doubt that you would be in any facility for the rest of your life… Sometimes a stay can help… It gives an opportunity for the never-ending cycle of pressures to pause. The big piece of the puzzle is your willingness to help yourself. Please don’t give up.
Excellent writing.
And your title made me think that you had seen a picture of me somewhere.
Ugly truth and all that.
Maybe you need to try to open up and let someone in.
To help you to heal your heart.
To help you realize that you are not worthless.
Because to feel worth less at one time you had to feel worth more.
The only way you would have a frame of reference for such.
Our words can only influence but your mind and heart will have to be the ones who take that influence and fly out.