I can’t decide if I want to spend my life being happy or being good. I can’t have both, so I have to decide.
Okay, so, a week ago, I made a post about my scrupulosity.
Well, as it turns out, I’m not scrupulous. I’m not a good person being tormented by a conscience that keeps falsely accusing me of being evil. I actually am just…evil. My conscience isn’t lying to me. It’s telling the truth.
And this isn’t even necessarily a religious thing. I’m evil by secular standards, too. To top it all off, I’m too much of a coward to do the responsible thing and remove myself from the world. The world would be better without me in it, but I’m too scared and selfish to actually […]
I’m about to get a bunch of edgelords roasting me in the comments. Oh well.
For those of you who may not know: I’m a Christian. Supposedly, anyway. I’m not a very good one, and I haven’t been particularly devout for a long time. But I’ve been trying to reconnect with my faith over the past few months, thinking that a little bit of spirituality might help me with things.
Well, unfortunately, it hasn’t gone very well. My scrupulosity came back, and it came back pretty hard. And for those of you who don’t know what scrupulosity is, I’m going to give you Google’s definition, since […]
Yesterday, someone asked me if I hated myself. It took all of my willpower to keep from blurting out, “Yeah, of course I hate me. Who wouldn’t?”
I’m still pursuing recovery, but I’ve realized that it’s hard to pursue recovery when you feel like no one loves you. Why bother fixing myself if I’m all alone in this world?
I know, I know. There are definitely people out there who DO love me. I know this logically, I know it with my head, but my heart must not have gotten the memo, because it has no idea. What I know doesn’t line up with what I feel, and I wish I knew how to fix it.
Do you ever have days where you just don’t want to be conscious? Yeah, I’m having one of those right now, and I don’t really know what to do about it. Sure, I can sleep, but I’ll wake up eventually. What if I’m still like this when I wake up?
I got a tarantula. I’d been planning to get one for a while, and today I finally did it. I’m already in love with him, and I’ve decided that he’s another Reason To Live. (It’s been quite a while since I’ve done one of these, huh? Last time, it was my cat, Copper.)
It might seem silly to live for a tarantula, but to me, it makes perfect sense. I’m the only person among my friends and family who likes tarantulas, and even other tarantula fans don’t tend to want males, so if I were to die, no one would take care of this little guy. […]
The new meds (or “old meds”, since I’ve technically been on both of them before, at lower doses) seem to be very helpful. They have me on an antidepressant, Lexapro, and an antipsychotic, Risperadone.
Unfortunately, D is still here. The Risperadone doesn’t make him go away. Not at this dose, at least.
He’s been acting really weird for the last three days. In the hospital, he showed up only once, early in the week. He listed off a million reasons why I should hate myself, and told me to kill myself—you know, the usual. But now it’s different. Ever since I got out, he’s been […]
And I’m doing much better, so far.
It wasn’t nearly as scary as I thought it would be. Once again, D and the other tormentors proved to be liars; the doctors did not hurt me or hollow me out.
I’m not “okay” yet, but I didn’t expect to be. I knew that this wouldn’t be a cure, just some emergency relief. The diffusing of a bomb. I’m not a bomb anymore.
Now, I’m going to start making some much needed changes to my life. Wish me luck.
Every day feels like a wasted day. I wish I knew why, and how to fix it.
Why do I need to feel productive in order to be happy?
In other news, I have to put off my plans even further. Instead of the 9th, I have to wait until the 11th. Let’s hope I can. It’s just a few days, Kat. That’s nothing compared to the 12+ years of bullshit you’ve already dealt with. Just keep yourself alive for a few days.
I know that “mental hospital” isn’t actually the proper term, but I can’t be bothered to figure out what is. You all know what I mean. The place itself is referred to as a “Behavioral Health Center”, but that sounds patronizing. Almost like they’re too afraid to use “scary words”, or something.
Anyway, I’m planning on going right after the eighth of June, and before the 20th of July, which is my birthday. I’ll probably end up spending my birthday there, but I don’t care. I need this badly. At first, I wrote out some of the reasons why in this post, but then I […]
I should spend every breath that I have apologizing. That is, if I speak at all. Ideally, I should be seen and not heard, but if I ever do open my mouth, it should only be to let out a constant stream of “I’m sorry”‘s to everyone around me. Maybe that’ll make up for the fact that I’m a perpetual fuck-up and all-around disappointment.
In your opinion, what is a good life?
The world shows no mercy. You can beg for it all you want, but you won’t get any. I wish I had learned that earlier. I could’ve saved my breath.
I don’t want to die today. I just want to sleep for a very long time. A coma would be nice.
I rarely feel sad. I’m usually afraid, angry, confused, or numb. Not sad. Today, though? Today is different. My heart is broken, and I’ve forgotten how potent and crippling sadness can be.
Consciousness is a burden I just can’t handle right now. I’m weak, too weak to live, and that’s a reality I can’t escape. I think I’m going to swallow a bunch of melatonin and hope to sleep through this.
Yesterday was a great day. I felt like I made a lot of progress with things. I had a few important revelations that were really empowering and I couldn’t wait to tell you guys about it.
Today, I can’t feel, can hardly think, and haven’t been able to eat or leave my bed. Everything is too loud, too fast, too much at once. Sandpaper against raw nerves. I’m breathing for no reason.
It’s insane how drastically and how quickly things can change. I’m tired of all of this whiplash. Why can’t I just be the same person for two days in a row?
Tonight, the realization that I’m insignificant in every way and will never amount to anything is really fucking me up.
Why do I need to do something with my life in order to be happy? Why can’t I just live? Why can’t I be okay with being forgotten and replaced?
I don’t like standing out negatively. I hate being a crazy, ugly, socially-inept freak. But I also don’t like being invisible, and those are my only two options, it seems. In fact, in a way, I’m already both at once. Isn’t that funny?
Imagine what it would be like if the English language only had the word “fruit”, but no words to differentiate different types of fruit, like “banana” or “apple”? That would suck, right? Well, that’s how I feel about the word “suicide.” It’s a very frustrating word, because it’s so non-specific.
The way I see it, suicide can be divided into categories. Tell me what you think about the lines I’ve drawn. Am I off the mark?
There are three main forms of suicide: self-euthanasia, self-execution, and self-murder. From what I’ve seen, most are of the first kind, but the other two forms are not uncommon, and the […]
I wish things made sense. Nothing ever makes a bit of sense.
Sometimes, I wish that I could at least learn to be content with that, and stop trying to understand things, but I don’t think I can.
I don’t understand how people can just relate to and interact with each other so easily.
For me, social interaction is an exhausting chore. Sure, I hate being lonely, but the difficulty and stress of social interaction often makes being around others hardly worth it. So, usually, I end up choosing loneliness.
I can’t maintain friendships. I rub nearly everyone I meet the wrong way. I’m a decent actor, but evidently not decent enough.
I feel like an alien. I feel like I’m a completely different species from everyone else. I wish I really were a different species, that way I could go live with […]