Man, fuck all this.
So I've got a mindless fucking job. I collate. Or maybe I stuff envelopes. Or maybe I collate, fold and stuff envelopes. The biggest problem with all of this? My mind has too much time to wander where ever it likes.
And it likes to focus on shit that makes me depressed, anxious or angry, either with myself or at the world in general.
God, and the fucking anxiety. I don't know if there's anything that I have to go through on a daily basis worse than the fucking anxiety. The only way I can describe it is a mental allergy, of a sort. You know, there's some oak pollen in the air, or you're around pet dander or dust mites, and your dumbass body thinks its sick. So you start doing all the things that happen when you get a real illness. You're sinuses are clogged. You're producing mucus by the bucketload. You've got headaches. And for nothing.
Well, it's like you've got a fucking reason to get into a "flight or fight" mode, but it's really no big deal. That's my anxiety. Or, ya know, it is a big deal, but maybe not as much as my dumbass mind is making it out to be.
I backed out of a couple of weddings this year. Honestly, I never should have agreed to be in them. After the last wedding I was in, it became quite clear that being in wedding parties makes me anxious as fuck. Again, for no good reason. All I've really got to do is show up. And I started thinking about how that really, really makes me want to end it all.
I mean, fucking ay. I should be focusing on how honored I am that my friends want to include me in one of the most important parts of their lives, but instead, I'm just freaking out for no good reason.
And I am honored that they want to include. I am, however, shamed by the fact that I wasn't able to take them up on their offer initially, and even more shamed because I agreed at first (even though I told myself that I wouldn't), and then backed out later.
So I started to examine, why do weddings make me feel like this? And I kept coming back to something I hit upon in my first round of counseling: I perpetually feel out of place, like I don't belong. This can be especially be true in more formal occasions, like weddings and even funerals.
I mean, really, put me in a suit, and I feel like a liar. I look at myself in the mirror and think, "This is not who I am." I may be able to pull off the look, but I've never, ever felt comfortable in it. Even with weddings that I'm not part of, I feel uncomfortable and out of place. Whether it's the fact that I'm single at 90% of these events, my unfocused rage at the wedding "industry" or the fact that I feel like dressed up white trash.
Now, don't get me wrong. I enjoy a lot of the weddings that I go to. These feelings come and go, and wedding or not, something would depress me. If I never went to events due to something making me feel depressed or lonely, I'd never leave the house.
So yeah, that was my main pointless freakout of the day.
But I have felt a lot of anxiety today. And I have been thinking about the enormous amount of debt I have, and that I've yet to rack up when I move into my own place. And yeah, I think about suicide a lot. No bills. No obligations. No stress. No feeling like my heart is collapsing upon itself like a neutron star. No more having to fight off public panic attacks and crying fits. No nothing.
But I don't. And today, I'm going to end on a macabre high note. I'll go into another reason why I'm not going to kill myself, as silly as it may seem.
Now, see, I've had this in my head long enough to think of plans and methods. I won't go into any of them except to say that they're not the "sudden painful" type that a lot of adult males go for. I've got enough pain. I don't really want any more.
But I do want something badass on my death certificate. I've been inspired, you see.
Most fatal injuries inflict wounds that eventually cause death due to blood loss or organ failure. So if someone got shot, the gunshot wound would be listed as secondary or even tertiary, quite possibly, after something like lung failure or blood loss. Same thing for knife wounds, auto accidents or a lot of other injuries.
But I processed a death claim back in the day for a quite righteous death. This dude accidentally got crushed between two big ol' commercial trucks. I don't know if they were dump trucks or delivery trucks or semis or what, but they weren't Ford F-150's, ya know? Anyway, the cause of death was listed only as "Blunt Force Trauma". No organ failure. No blood loss. Just an injury that was so severe that the dude's brain and body were all "Nope, fuck this. /flips off switch"
I'll admit. I was amazed and more than a little impressed.
And it likes to focus on shit that makes me depressed, anxious or angry, either with myself or at the world in general.
God, and the fucking anxiety. I don't know if there's anything that I have to go through on a daily basis worse than the fucking anxiety. The only way I can describe it is a mental allergy, of a sort. You know, there's some oak pollen in the air, or you're around pet dander or dust mites, and your dumbass body thinks its sick. So you start doing all the things that happen when you get a real illness. You're sinuses are clogged. You're producing mucus by the bucketload. You've got headaches. And for nothing.
Well, it's like you've got a fucking reason to get into a "flight or fight" mode, but it's really no big deal. That's my anxiety. Or, ya know, it is a big deal, but maybe not as much as my dumbass mind is making it out to be.
I backed out of a couple of weddings this year. Honestly, I never should have agreed to be in them. After the last wedding I was in, it became quite clear that being in wedding parties makes me anxious as fuck. Again, for no good reason. All I've really got to do is show up. And I started thinking about how that really, really makes me want to end it all.
I mean, fucking ay. I should be focusing on how honored I am that my friends want to include me in one of the most important parts of their lives, but instead, I'm just freaking out for no good reason.
And I am honored that they want to include. I am, however, shamed by the fact that I wasn't able to take them up on their offer initially, and even more shamed because I agreed at first (even though I told myself that I wouldn't), and then backed out later.
So I started to examine, why do weddings make me feel like this? And I kept coming back to something I hit upon in my first round of counseling: I perpetually feel out of place, like I don't belong. This can be especially be true in more formal occasions, like weddings and even funerals.
I mean, really, put me in a suit, and I feel like a liar. I look at myself in the mirror and think, "This is not who I am." I may be able to pull off the look, but I've never, ever felt comfortable in it. Even with weddings that I'm not part of, I feel uncomfortable and out of place. Whether it's the fact that I'm single at 90% of these events, my unfocused rage at the wedding "industry" or the fact that I feel like dressed up white trash.
Now, don't get me wrong. I enjoy a lot of the weddings that I go to. These feelings come and go, and wedding or not, something would depress me. If I never went to events due to something making me feel depressed or lonely, I'd never leave the house.
So yeah, that was my main pointless freakout of the day.
But I have felt a lot of anxiety today. And I have been thinking about the enormous amount of debt I have, and that I've yet to rack up when I move into my own place. And yeah, I think about suicide a lot. No bills. No obligations. No stress. No feeling like my heart is collapsing upon itself like a neutron star. No more having to fight off public panic attacks and crying fits. No nothing.
But I don't. And today, I'm going to end on a macabre high note. I'll go into another reason why I'm not going to kill myself, as silly as it may seem.
Now, see, I've had this in my head long enough to think of plans and methods. I won't go into any of them except to say that they're not the "sudden painful" type that a lot of adult males go for. I've got enough pain. I don't really want any more.
But I do want something badass on my death certificate. I've been inspired, you see.
Most fatal injuries inflict wounds that eventually cause death due to blood loss or organ failure. So if someone got shot, the gunshot wound would be listed as secondary or even tertiary, quite possibly, after something like lung failure or blood loss. Same thing for knife wounds, auto accidents or a lot of other injuries.
But I processed a death claim back in the day for a quite righteous death. This dude accidentally got crushed between two big ol' commercial trucks. I don't know if they were dump trucks or delivery trucks or semis or what, but they weren't Ford F-150's, ya know? Anyway, the cause of death was listed only as "Blunt Force Trauma". No organ failure. No blood loss. Just an injury that was so severe that the dude's brain and body were all "Nope, fuck this. /flips off switch"
I'll admit. I was amazed and more than a little impressed.