(no subject)
I'm not even sure if this is the right sort of community to post in, but read on, and let me know what you think.
In the past month or so - from about the first week of October to now, I've seriously thought of killing myself more times than I can count now. I say "seriously", because I had thoughts of the same in the past as well, but they were more fleeting ideas of "I could do that, but it's somewhat extreme given the situation..." and so on. Let's just say I've progressed from that to actually thinking about how I would do it, and trying to decide which I would prefer - something that guarantees my death but is messy, or something that is mostly tidy and doesn't leave any significant mark on my body, but that I might live through. I still haven't made up my mind on that (but am mostly past such concerns now, and am into a "Who cares? If it works, I'll never be around to see how I look anyways" state of mind. The second issue was, amusingly enough, thoughts of an afterlife. By no means am I a religious person, and the mere mention of God is enough to give me the initial symptoms of a panic / anxiety attack, but if I were to commit suicide, I'd want to die and just be dead. No games and no life-after-death type thing, and most certainly no judgement of the sort I was brought up to believe one would face upon death. One of the minor stipulations to it said that suicide was as bad as murder, so by ending my own life, I'll effectively be ensuring that I "live" for all eternity in a state unfathomably worse than how I feel now.
Speaking of which, how do I feel now? Well, I checked my profile over on my real journal a couple minutes ago and saw somebody who I've thought of as a close friend and whom I've known for at least three years removed me from their friends list. Just up and gone, with no explanation or anything, and I did send them a message to ask why, just to keep me from worrying about it to yet another unhealthy degree, but there's an additional piece of information to this that is interesting. I have Google Analytics set up with that other account, and last night noticed a new visitor from New York, which is, indeed, where that person lives. The data for them indicated that they'd read one of my older entries, right around the time I was publicly talking about being depressed and even mentioned my thoughts of suicide a couple times, so I can definitely understand if that's why they removed me (not that I like it any more), but it's just as likely that that visitor was somebody else, and that friend's removing me from their list was just a coincidence.
Or so I like to tell myself. I seem to have a way with people. A really disgusting and unattractive way with people, that is. Anybody I meet and get to know beyond just being casual friends eventually becomes my sworn enemy. However, note that I also think I have issues with envy, which will become relevant in the next sentence. In the past several years, my relationships / friendships have gone as such: make a new friend, get along with them really well, eventually get envious of something of theirs and talk to them about it, thereby gaining their understanding and telling me they didn't know I'd react to whatever "it" was so harshly, and then things would be swell for another couple weeks to another couple months. Eventually though, I'd find something else about them that I didn't like, but as talking to them a second time would of course only be met with anger and them telling me I needed to seek professional help, I'd cut all forms of communication with them and move on, eventually feeling better (as in non-depressed) again, and after having found one or two ways of making them out to be the asshole instead of me. Now, do be sure to note that this never happened with the friend mentioned above. We talked about my being depressed a couple times, but that was mostly them saying what I was describing sounded like Seasonal Affective Disorder, and me telling them that while that may be, I didn't think the time of year had anything to do with it. And I still don't. I love winter. I love the snow and the wind and cold temperatures and Christmas and everything about the November-to-February span, and that's one thing I truly believe in and stand by. Maybe I'm wrong in saying that too, but I'm much more inclined to think the timing is just a coincidence.
So anyways, I was told by another somewhat close acquaintance who I hate just as much as everybody else now that I needed to seek professional help, and talk to somebody who was trained to offer advice. That advice is perfectly reasonable, but it's like there's something holding me back, and you want to know what it is? If I do talk to a professional about this, I am effectively closing the door on killing myself, and I don't want to do that. I could be done with all this literal pain and feeling like a worthless piece of shit within the hour if I wanted to be, but I would have to make other preparations first, plus there's also working for the next couple nights, meaning that they'd call to see where I was and somebody would discover my condition and rush me to the hospital long before I actually died. Unless I were to employ one of the more gruesome methods, in which case news of what I'd done would spread throughout my family and possibly even to work before the night was up.
Honestly, setting all my other reservations aside, and narrowing things down to just whether or not I should kill myself, it's like I want to, but there's still something holding me back, and I can't place what it is. I'm tired of feeling this way though. The lifelessness and drifting through each day and spending most of my free time thinking about how I came to be in this state (there was one specific event that set me off, but I won't go into it here) and just getting angrier and angrier make me feel like I'm going to be sick first of all, but I never get sick, and as such generally fluctuate between feeling optimistic and generally like everything is okay, to, especially when I'm at work, feeling like I'm less than one millisecond away from dropping everything and running out of the place head in hands either screaming or sobbing. I kind of fancy doing that too though, because then it's going to show people there that something is wrong with me, and they'll be concerned, and perhaps genuinely want to talk, but I also don't want to use people that way anymore, along with the fact that I've been doing fairly well keeping my work and personal lives separate thus far, and would rather that wall wasn't broken down now, even if I am in the last weeks of my life, as it were.
Finally though, just one more thing to say about talking to a professional or somebody who is trained to offer help. Fuck being put on pills or being enrolled in some sort of active therapy. I would sooner jump off a bridge on the way to the appointment than artificially make myself feel better. All I want to do is talk to somebody. Not as a friend, and not with the pretense of having seen me before, as would happen with my doctor. I want to be able to get all this stuff of my chest, even if it requires going back for multiple sessions to discuss further things I hadn't remembered before. I want to get to the bottom of why I feel this way by natural means, and I want to know that whoever I'm talking to is trained to deal with that sort of situation and respond accordingly. And by that I mean point out bits and pieces of whatever I'm saying that I may have been missing, or show me if and where I'm being too hard on myself. I'm not stupid. Likewise, I am not trained in the ways of how people work and what goes on in their heads, but I fancy myself somewhat an armchair enthusiast, if you will. I prefer to help myself, but am starting to think I can't pull myself out of this hole on my own.
Oh, and it doesn't really fit in here, but since I forgot to mention it above, here's just a small example of what I mean by envy. I recently paid somebody to write a story for me, and they gave me a link to their Twitter-esque page to keep me abreast of progress on it, and through the course of that, I saw other updates to the effect of the making a new friend, and suddenly this new friend, who they didn't even know a day ago offers to draw them a free picture, and I just flew into a blind rage because of that. Seriously, if the two of us were to ever meet in real life, neither of us would live through the encounter. Not only did you make a new friend in less than a day, but then suddenly they're offering you gifts that I could only dream of being offered? Fuck you. Fuck you and all your "<3333"s and ">.>b"s and ability to just stick your head in the sand whenever things get ugly. This is also why I'm considering killing myself though. It clearly isn't fair of me to feel that way toward them, but all the same, I don't know what else to do about it / how I might deal with it.
tl;dr] I'm considering suicide because I am a hopeless mess, and in some ways even deserve to die. Something's holding me back though, but still, it's only a matter of time before I lose my attachment to whatever that is as well.
I just don't know.
edit 11/23] Wow, I thought for sure this post had been binned, and things have definitely changed somewhat in the last little bit, so let's see here.
I called the other person out on what they were doing, for one. In short, back during the summer I paid them to write a story for me, and ended up actually having to cut back on the ending somewhat to respect their rating limit. Skip ahead to the middle of October, and I checked their site out of curiosity to see a new story dealing with suicide, of all things, and aside from problems coming from envy related to that, I had a big problem with them breaking their rule. Not only did they hijack somebody else's story to write about themselves (they admitted to me that it was mostly autobiographical), but when I asked if, had they not been able to identify with the suicide and depression themes, would they have written that story, and they understandably got pissed off at me.
And now I have just one more reason to hate myself, which I should clarify too. If and when I kill myself, it'll be for two reasons. One because I hate what I've become more than can be put into words, and two, because I'm tired of living in this world. I have plenty of faults on my own, yeah, but at least I can acknowledge them. Pretty much everybody else I look at is either in denial or flat-out seem to think that they're fine the way they are. I can't take this, but once again, who am I - one small voice - to ask the entire world to change? Nobody, so I might as well do everybody else a favor and make it so that I can't keep doing this.
It's like... even if I manage to pull through somehow and am still here in a couple years (assuming the world doesn't end in 2012 (ohnoes)), I'm about two steps away from becoming a bonafide schizophrenic or psychopath. One of those people who does nothing but mumble to themselves all day long and goes on at length wherever they can attract an audience - such as what I'm doing here - about whatever drove them to the point of insanity. And I don't want to live like that.
The more I think about this, the more it feels like I do need to go talk to a professional. Talking online is okay to a point, but there eventually comes a time where my writing can't keep up with the way I feel. I want to talk to somebody in real life, and I want to just completely break down in tears and tell them I'm so fed up with the way I feel that I just want to kill myself, but what am I to do? Just walk away for now, I guess. Focus on other things, and be happy I made the author of those stories angry, because maybe once they calm down they'll be able to see what I meant. But it's not my place to do that, so here, just leave me alone and I'll take measures to ensure all this hatred and feeling bad about just about everything dies with me.
Although I only half mean that. Killing myself would devastate my family, if not an old friend whose grandpa just died today, apparently, as well as that it would affect the people I worked with, and so on. Yeah, it would make me feel better, but can it really be considered feeling better when you no longer feel anything at all?
In the past month or so - from about the first week of October to now, I've seriously thought of killing myself more times than I can count now. I say "seriously", because I had thoughts of the same in the past as well, but they were more fleeting ideas of "I could do that, but it's somewhat extreme given the situation..." and so on. Let's just say I've progressed from that to actually thinking about how I would do it, and trying to decide which I would prefer - something that guarantees my death but is messy, or something that is mostly tidy and doesn't leave any significant mark on my body, but that I might live through. I still haven't made up my mind on that (but am mostly past such concerns now, and am into a "Who cares? If it works, I'll never be around to see how I look anyways" state of mind. The second issue was, amusingly enough, thoughts of an afterlife. By no means am I a religious person, and the mere mention of God is enough to give me the initial symptoms of a panic / anxiety attack, but if I were to commit suicide, I'd want to die and just be dead. No games and no life-after-death type thing, and most certainly no judgement of the sort I was brought up to believe one would face upon death. One of the minor stipulations to it said that suicide was as bad as murder, so by ending my own life, I'll effectively be ensuring that I "live" for all eternity in a state unfathomably worse than how I feel now.
Speaking of which, how do I feel now? Well, I checked my profile over on my real journal a couple minutes ago and saw somebody who I've thought of as a close friend and whom I've known for at least three years removed me from their friends list. Just up and gone, with no explanation or anything, and I did send them a message to ask why, just to keep me from worrying about it to yet another unhealthy degree, but there's an additional piece of information to this that is interesting. I have Google Analytics set up with that other account, and last night noticed a new visitor from New York, which is, indeed, where that person lives. The data for them indicated that they'd read one of my older entries, right around the time I was publicly talking about being depressed and even mentioned my thoughts of suicide a couple times, so I can definitely understand if that's why they removed me (not that I like it any more), but it's just as likely that that visitor was somebody else, and that friend's removing me from their list was just a coincidence.
Or so I like to tell myself. I seem to have a way with people. A really disgusting and unattractive way with people, that is. Anybody I meet and get to know beyond just being casual friends eventually becomes my sworn enemy. However, note that I also think I have issues with envy, which will become relevant in the next sentence. In the past several years, my relationships / friendships have gone as such: make a new friend, get along with them really well, eventually get envious of something of theirs and talk to them about it, thereby gaining their understanding and telling me they didn't know I'd react to whatever "it" was so harshly, and then things would be swell for another couple weeks to another couple months. Eventually though, I'd find something else about them that I didn't like, but as talking to them a second time would of course only be met with anger and them telling me I needed to seek professional help, I'd cut all forms of communication with them and move on, eventually feeling better (as in non-depressed) again, and after having found one or two ways of making them out to be the asshole instead of me. Now, do be sure to note that this never happened with the friend mentioned above. We talked about my being depressed a couple times, but that was mostly them saying what I was describing sounded like Seasonal Affective Disorder, and me telling them that while that may be, I didn't think the time of year had anything to do with it. And I still don't. I love winter. I love the snow and the wind and cold temperatures and Christmas and everything about the November-to-February span, and that's one thing I truly believe in and stand by. Maybe I'm wrong in saying that too, but I'm much more inclined to think the timing is just a coincidence.
So anyways, I was told by another somewhat close acquaintance who I hate just as much as everybody else now that I needed to seek professional help, and talk to somebody who was trained to offer advice. That advice is perfectly reasonable, but it's like there's something holding me back, and you want to know what it is? If I do talk to a professional about this, I am effectively closing the door on killing myself, and I don't want to do that. I could be done with all this literal pain and feeling like a worthless piece of shit within the hour if I wanted to be, but I would have to make other preparations first, plus there's also working for the next couple nights, meaning that they'd call to see where I was and somebody would discover my condition and rush me to the hospital long before I actually died. Unless I were to employ one of the more gruesome methods, in which case news of what I'd done would spread throughout my family and possibly even to work before the night was up.
Honestly, setting all my other reservations aside, and narrowing things down to just whether or not I should kill myself, it's like I want to, but there's still something holding me back, and I can't place what it is. I'm tired of feeling this way though. The lifelessness and drifting through each day and spending most of my free time thinking about how I came to be in this state (there was one specific event that set me off, but I won't go into it here) and just getting angrier and angrier make me feel like I'm going to be sick first of all, but I never get sick, and as such generally fluctuate between feeling optimistic and generally like everything is okay, to, especially when I'm at work, feeling like I'm less than one millisecond away from dropping everything and running out of the place head in hands either screaming or sobbing. I kind of fancy doing that too though, because then it's going to show people there that something is wrong with me, and they'll be concerned, and perhaps genuinely want to talk, but I also don't want to use people that way anymore, along with the fact that I've been doing fairly well keeping my work and personal lives separate thus far, and would rather that wall wasn't broken down now, even if I am in the last weeks of my life, as it were.
Finally though, just one more thing to say about talking to a professional or somebody who is trained to offer help. Fuck being put on pills or being enrolled in some sort of active therapy. I would sooner jump off a bridge on the way to the appointment than artificially make myself feel better. All I want to do is talk to somebody. Not as a friend, and not with the pretense of having seen me before, as would happen with my doctor. I want to be able to get all this stuff of my chest, even if it requires going back for multiple sessions to discuss further things I hadn't remembered before. I want to get to the bottom of why I feel this way by natural means, and I want to know that whoever I'm talking to is trained to deal with that sort of situation and respond accordingly. And by that I mean point out bits and pieces of whatever I'm saying that I may have been missing, or show me if and where I'm being too hard on myself. I'm not stupid. Likewise, I am not trained in the ways of how people work and what goes on in their heads, but I fancy myself somewhat an armchair enthusiast, if you will. I prefer to help myself, but am starting to think I can't pull myself out of this hole on my own.
Oh, and it doesn't really fit in here, but since I forgot to mention it above, here's just a small example of what I mean by envy. I recently paid somebody to write a story for me, and they gave me a link to their Twitter-esque page to keep me abreast of progress on it, and through the course of that, I saw other updates to the effect of the making a new friend, and suddenly this new friend, who they didn't even know a day ago offers to draw them a free picture, and I just flew into a blind rage because of that. Seriously, if the two of us were to ever meet in real life, neither of us would live through the encounter. Not only did you make a new friend in less than a day, but then suddenly they're offering you gifts that I could only dream of being offered? Fuck you. Fuck you and all your "<3333"s and ">.>b"s and ability to just stick your head in the sand whenever things get ugly. This is also why I'm considering killing myself though. It clearly isn't fair of me to feel that way toward them, but all the same, I don't know what else to do about it / how I might deal with it.
tl;dr] I'm considering suicide because I am a hopeless mess, and in some ways even deserve to die. Something's holding me back though, but still, it's only a matter of time before I lose my attachment to whatever that is as well.
I just don't know.
edit 11/23] Wow, I thought for sure this post had been binned, and things have definitely changed somewhat in the last little bit, so let's see here.
I called the other person out on what they were doing, for one. In short, back during the summer I paid them to write a story for me, and ended up actually having to cut back on the ending somewhat to respect their rating limit. Skip ahead to the middle of October, and I checked their site out of curiosity to see a new story dealing with suicide, of all things, and aside from problems coming from envy related to that, I had a big problem with them breaking their rule. Not only did they hijack somebody else's story to write about themselves (they admitted to me that it was mostly autobiographical), but when I asked if, had they not been able to identify with the suicide and depression themes, would they have written that story, and they understandably got pissed off at me.
And now I have just one more reason to hate myself, which I should clarify too. If and when I kill myself, it'll be for two reasons. One because I hate what I've become more than can be put into words, and two, because I'm tired of living in this world. I have plenty of faults on my own, yeah, but at least I can acknowledge them. Pretty much everybody else I look at is either in denial or flat-out seem to think that they're fine the way they are. I can't take this, but once again, who am I - one small voice - to ask the entire world to change? Nobody, so I might as well do everybody else a favor and make it so that I can't keep doing this.
It's like... even if I manage to pull through somehow and am still here in a couple years (assuming the world doesn't end in 2012 (ohnoes)), I'm about two steps away from becoming a bonafide schizophrenic or psychopath. One of those people who does nothing but mumble to themselves all day long and goes on at length wherever they can attract an audience - such as what I'm doing here - about whatever drove them to the point of insanity. And I don't want to live like that.
The more I think about this, the more it feels like I do need to go talk to a professional. Talking online is okay to a point, but there eventually comes a time where my writing can't keep up with the way I feel. I want to talk to somebody in real life, and I want to just completely break down in tears and tell them I'm so fed up with the way I feel that I just want to kill myself, but what am I to do? Just walk away for now, I guess. Focus on other things, and be happy I made the author of those stories angry, because maybe once they calm down they'll be able to see what I meant. But it's not my place to do that, so here, just leave me alone and I'll take measures to ensure all this hatred and feeling bad about just about everything dies with me.
Although I only half mean that. Killing myself would devastate my family, if not an old friend whose grandpa just died today, apparently, as well as that it would affect the people I worked with, and so on. Yeah, it would make me feel better, but can it really be considered feeling better when you no longer feel anything at all?