I suppose it doesn’t matter much. It won’t make a difference if I do it right or wrong because there won’t be anyone to notice. If a tree falls in the forest and no one hears it does it make a sound? If a lonely person dies and no one notices did they really live?
I was 11 when that album came out but I was probably 12 by the time I first heard it.
I’ve mellowed a lot since then, but man that album is so beautiful. I wasn’t suicidal when I was 12, but I did wish I was dead or didn’t exist a lot. This album was the first time I ever realized other people felt that way, too.
My favorite song was “The Becoming”.
The me that you know he used to have feelings
But the blood has stopped pumping and he’s left to decay.
The me that you know is now made up of wires
And even when I’m right with you I’m so far away
I still had some friends back then. I had a chance to be something back then. To change something. To get help. But I didn’t know how. Now here I am. Hanging on to this miserable life wishing that boy could have been wiser, but knowing there was no way for him to know how to be.
Two more months. I’m not sure what the purpose is in setting arbitrary dates for the future. I told myself I would give the ECT treatment time to work. But honestly I don’t see the point. Maybe I am just procrastinating.
it’s been more than 18 years since I attempted suicide. Back then I didn’t set any sort of dates or things I wanted to do. I made a decision, got what I thought I needed and I attempted. Of course I failed, so maybe taking the extra time to make sure will help.
There’s nothing I want to do or try. Nothing that makes me feel joy. No one to talk to. I’ve done my best but it just has never been good enough.
Two more months.
I was molested around once a week for two years starting when I was 7. It wasn’t traumatic for me at the time. I didn’t know what was happening. It wasn’t violent. It wasn’t until a couple of years after it ended that I realized what happened and had some bad reactions.
I’ve always wondered how it affected me. I don’t have PTSD or anything. I don’t have thoughts about it or fears from it. Yet I’ve never been able to form relationships. I don’t know. I’m not sure it matters.
I’ve always found the concept of infinity interesting. If the universe is infinite then there is another world out there with another me where everything is the same except I was never a childhood sexual abuse survivor. I’ve always wondered how that person turns out.
I’m really struggling. I’m not sure what to do any more. I’ve done the best that I can do. I’m sad and lonely and pathetic. Not even shock therapy can help me. I’m not sure why I even would have holed any hope. It’s so stupid. I’m so smart in some ways but not any way that matters.
I’ve promised myself I will keep going until September. I’m not sure I can keep that promise. As long as I’ve done my best, I can leave feeling happy and satisfied knowing I’ve tried everything.
People need people. I have no one. No matter what I do, I’ll always be this sad, pathetic loser trying to hold on to something that’s not worth saving.
I’ve never felt love before. Not for a single moment in my life. I don’t regret never having felt it because it is something beyond my control. Still, I wish I could know what it feels like.
Tomorrow I am going to my last ECT session. I don’t feel like it has helped at all. I don’t think I have anything left to try. I’m going to give it a couple of months, probably until my birthday in September. I just don’t have any reason to believe I have the power to change my life. I’ve tried so many things and I just can’t get any relief. I’ve done my best, it just isn’t good enough.
I’ve done 5 treatments now. Supposedly 8 to 12 is what people need. I don’t feel any different. Just slower and less sure of who I am. It was a bit of wishful thinking to hope inducing a seizure could cure me. It’s not going to make anyone care about me or give me any friends or the ability to make any. It doesn’t change the fact that I have no value to anyone. Oh well. Only a little bit further to go.
I’ve had two ECT treatments now. I don’t feel much different. Just tired and my memory seems sluggish. Especially recent things. Maybe that is the idea, forget who I am.
I always am curious to know if things that happened to me effected who I became as a person.
I don’t get to go back and live my life and change one thing and see how I would have been different. I had a rough childhood. But I really did my best to change that. Would I have been the same person regardless? I was molested as a child by a friend of my parents many times. But I never have a conscious thought as an adult about this. Yet every professional says these things matter. I don’t know.
I am hoping the shock treatment I am starting this week will help me. I’m running out of hope.
I hate that so much. Every single doctor or therapist I go to has to have an emergency contact person. I have to either make up someone or explain that I don’t have anyone. There isn’t a single person to call to help me.
Most of the time I just make up someone and list my own phone number. No one ever checks these things. It still makes me feel ashamed for being alone.
One therapist rejected me for listing no one. Don’t you have a friend or priest or neighbor you could call if there was a crisis? She said her license wouldn’t allow her to treat me. That made me feel really pathetic, so I mostly lie now just to avoid that conversation in the future.
I don’t know when I
Stopped believing I was
A worthwhile human
I find it really frustrating that my best has never been good enough. For the most part I have always been fighting against depression, or whatever it is that is wrong with me. I’ve tried so hard. I just can’t seem to beat it.
I’m going to be trying shock therapy soon, and this will be the last thing I try. After that there is nothing left but another suicide attempt for me. At least I don’t have to write a note, because no one would ever read it.
I tried to commit suicide when I was 20. I’ve lived a lifetime since then.
My suicide attempt cost me the only friend I ever had. I started seeing doctors and therapists then, hoping that if I could fix myself I’d get my friend back. I write to her every year. 18 years now. And I never hear back. Still I keep trying even though I know it will never happen.
The question I have the hardest time answering for myself is why didn’t I try again? I don’t have an answer I suppose. Some sort of belief that maybe if all the stars align I might make a friend again one day. The logical part of me doesn’t believe that of course. After failing so many times it is near impossible to believe. Oh well.
I’m sorry Em.
If I had an infinite amount of time and words I couldn’t summarize my life any better than that. Nothing.
I don’t have the energy in me to build up these really strong emotions any more. Most of the time I’m apathetic. I think sometimes it’s better to feel strongly even if it’s negative because it can maybe drive you towards doing something different. I feel defeated.
I’ve never cared much for meaningless ad hominem adjectives. My story is more one told by a sadist.
I often wonder how much of my life was actually within my control. Sure, I make choices every day… but is there anything I could have done differently to not end up here, or is this the best I could have done? I don’t have any specific regrets and I’ve always tried to make the best decisions I could have.
I don’t get to go back and live another life without going through the trauma I did and see how I would have turned out. Or what I would have been like if my parents loved me. You can say on aggregate going through these things makes you more likely to have social issues, but you can never say it for certain in any specific case it is a cause. Maybe I’d have turned out exactly the same.
I don’t really feel like I am heard now, so to be heard no more will not make a difference. There is absolutely something to look forward to knowing the certainty of it. If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it does it still make a sound? If a person cries out for help and no one hears them are they still in pain? It makes me feel pathetic sometimes that I have to pay someone to listen to me. At the same time, I would choose to not listen to me either so I sort of understand where I am.
There is a book called “The Unbearable Lightness of Being” that uses lightness and heaviness as themes and how to be happy the light characters who have no purpose and drift aimlessly have to find something to weigh them down and the heavy characters who are overburdened need to find lightness to lift them up. I feel light and heavy at the same time. The lightness comes from having no connections to anything in this world, I can do whatever I would like, yet I cannot find joy or peace in anything I choose to do. At the same time there is this heaviness of self-hatred and despair. I seem to have the worst of both worlds.
Until I am heard no more, I suppose.
I feel often as though I’m living in the shadows, the part of the universe that no one pays attention to because it can’t be seen. Or perhaps a better analogy is that I am so dark that light does not reflect off of me. Any intereaction I have with people sputters out because whatever it is they would want to bounce back off of me simply dies when it hits my surface.
I’ve spent so many years legitimately trying to make my life have some sort of meaning or purpose. I have been in counseling for more than 15 years. I’ve seen so many doctors and tried medications. I’ve participated in groups and volunteered. I’ve met probably a thousand people in my life and I’ve only ever had one friend. No one can tell me what I am doing wrong. The only conclusion I have been able to make is I don’t offer enough to anyone to make it worth their time. I understand that, if I could choose to not be around myself I would make the same choice.
I feel like I’ve done the very best that I can do and it just is not anywhere close to good enough. The important thing is I did try to make the most of life, even if it could never be something happy for me. At least it doesn’t have to go on forever, that is the only thing that keeps me going ironically.
I would never describe my life as a light. I’m not sure exactly when I lost that, likely before I could even remember. I don’t really have any memories from before I was 9. Well, I do remember some things but I just really don’t like to talk about that. I have a few memories of being happy but not many. When I started to make sense of what happened to me I don’t think I ever recovered. Maybe that is when it extinguished.. or maybe when my one friend couldn’t be my friend any more. I don’t remember the last time I felt hopeful, it has been so long. Even if I could remember, it is not like I could go back and hold onto that feeling if I wanted to.