Fuck Everything!!

Fuck the way that I’m turning in to my father, possibly the only person I know that I hate more than myself, and despite the fact that I barely ever see his pathetic ass and that he has never been around for my whole fucking life.

Fuck how alone I am, and how scared I am of being alone. Fuck the way I cower and cry, and know that nobody fucking wants to love somebody who is so weak that they end up like that. Fuck the way I want to scream when I see myself in the mirror, and know how fucking disgusting I am. Fuck the way that nobody is even willing to lie to me and say that they love me.

Fuck my “friends”, who are more than happy to watch me fucking drown in front of them, so long as I’ll play happy and nice and fun, but where the fuck are they when shit isn’t good, as in always? Fuck the way I can love outrageously, but only because I’m so goddamned needy, I’ll be the most loving person to anyone who will toss me some scraps of affection. Fuck the way I’m too afraid to give this up, because I know that there’s very likely no better option for me.

Fuck the way I pretended it was OK, that someone loved me, and then when I knew that wasn’t true, that there was some kind of connection that made me special to one fucking person, and fuck the way that lie had to crumble. Fuck knowing that I’ve never mattered to anyone.

Fuck the way drugs used to make the pain go away, and then when I was in love, I didn’t need the drugs, and then the love kicked my ass and the drugs stopped helping, so I quit both. Now I wish I could just get high and feel better, but if I did I’d just hate myself more. Fuck not being able to pretend it’s going to be alright, and fuck being too weak to do anything but put one disgusting fucking pathetic foot in front of the other forever.

FUCK YOU ALL AND FUCK IT ALL AND FUCK ME AND FUCK BEING LIKE THIS!!

Dude-unless this a literary exercise, I strongly suggest you seek some professional assistance with your issues. Stay with a program of treatment and you will see progress. Be well.

:frowning: Why don’t you ICQ me? You used to talk to me about a few things. Maybe I could help.

Fuck the therapists who fucking tell me what I’m feeling when they have no idea, or who sit and barely acknowledge me. Fuck my parents who call me a liar when I say anything less than perfect about them to a therapist, fuck the side-effects of anti-depressants, and fuck everyone who proposes therapy as a cure-all for everyone.

I can’t say it’ll work for you but that’s how I escaped from my nightmarish quagmire; one goddammed, shit-hole sucking day at a time. Life did improve. I sincerely hope yours does, as well.

Oh please! You think you’re the only one that’s been hurt, has problems, and thinks life sucks? Well, you’re not. Get a grip, deal with it, and get over it. Whining about it isn’t going to help. If you don’t like your life, get off your ass and do something about it.

Damn, Q.E.D.. Is this your normal reaction to someone else’s grief, or did someone hit you with the bitch-stick today?

I’m sorry to hear you’re having trouble, Lucki. I wish I had something more substantive to offer, but I’m sure you’ve had your fill of well-meaning suggestions.

Well, I’ve been out of work for a month and a half, have no unemployment, have $150 left to my name, can’t pay my rent, can’t find a job cause of the shitty market and I have no idea what I’ll do when the money’s gone if I can’t find a job. So, yeah, I’m in a bitchy mood, but you don’t hear me whining about it, do you? No, because it won’t do any good. So, life isn’t fair. Oh, boo hoo. Get over it.

In all honesty, I think that Q.E.D. was offering help. It is difficult to be 18 and sometimes the best help is a kick in the ass. Lucki, you are better than this. Buck up, kiddo. You have the power to change the way people react to you. I am sure that you can do it.

Hey, Lucki, for what it’s worth…

I like you. When I see your name next to a post, the image of you flying through the air, from that photo you posted a while back, pops into mind immediately. What I’ve read of yours I’ve enjoyed immensely; you’re funny, frank, and literate.

And also cute.

I’ve been in some really, really dark places in the past, and getting through them all has been worth it. All the pain, loneliness, heartache, abuse… it’s all been worth it. I’ve gotten to a place in my life where I am abundantly, bizarrely happy. And if it can happen to me, it sure as hell can happen to you.

I’m going to make a suggestion. It’s not a good suggestion. It’s a last-ditch, last-resort, if nothing else works suggestion. It’s not a good way to handle things, it’s not brave, it’s not nice, but it might be necessary. All I can say is that it worked for me, when I really needed it. This is all based on the idea, which I think I’ve seen verified here, that you’re 18 or over. Here goes…

Ditch everything. Sell enough of your stuff to raise some road cash, and leave. Leave everything behind. Go somewhere else, somewhere strange to you, somewhere far away, where you don’t know anyone, and live there. Get a cheap place, get a crappy job, hunker down, and find out what you’re like when you’re not around the people who have molded your life so far. Live without a net for a while. Meet people on your own terms, as yourself, and not as the friend of a friend of theirs, not as your parents’ son or your siblings’ brother.

In months, or years, you might consider going back and finding the people you left behind. You might go back and take up your old life after a few weeks. The difference would be that if you went back, you’d have chosen to go back.

Oddly enough, once you’re over 18 you’re allowed to do this.

There’s got to be something you feel like whining or ranting about in all that, but I sincerely hope your own advice works out for you.

For what it’s worth, Lucki, you just turned 18 (if I remember correctly). Don’t let anyone tell you these are the best years of your life; teenage years suck, in so many ways. I have never in my life been as happy and content as I am in my mid-thirties (with a lifelong battle with depression and anxiety). I started to feel like I was getting my feet under me at about 25. xcheopsis described growing up and maturing very well; one goddammed, shit-hole sucking day at a time. Then you just wake up one day and it doesn’t seem as bad. Feel free to tell me to take a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut, too, if it helps at all. I probably would have done the same if anyone tried to tell me anything at 18.

If you mean do all I can to get myself back on my feet, then yeah, I am. As much as I’d like to rant about it, it won’t help. FWIW, I was 18 once. At that age, every problem is Earth-shattering. Then you grow up, and realize your problems aren’t shit. No matter how bad your life is, there’s always someone who’s got it much worse than you.

Lucki Charms, I second the suggestions in MrVisible’s post. If you were down, depressed, facing the great darkness where days seem like the same thing, over and over – then, yeah, I’d vouch for counselling.

But you – you’re angry. You don’t like your past, or your present. Close the door on it. Set out on your own road. Make your own decisions, meet people on your own terms, and make the dance your very own composition.

I hoorayed your return to these boards, because I admire what I have seen of your energy, your exhuberance. Take that up, and use it to build your own life, clear of the past.

The future – and there certainly is a very good one for you – is yours.

Ya know Q.E.D., just because there are people starving in Africa, doesn’t make a person any less hungry when lunch-time rolls around.

Sometimes a little compassion goes a long way. I hope you find work soon.

And Lucky, I hope things pick up for you too. Sometimes life can really hand you a shit sandwich.

No, it doesn’t. But it sure puts whining about missing a lunch into perspective.

I think you’re missing my point.

If my neighbour gets shot, should I not phone 911 when I get stabbed?

Actually, I think you two would be standing over the corpse, arguing about trivia, when the cops showed up.

Any chance you two could go get a room?

And for some reason, though their problems ‘aren’t shit’ some 18-year olds still manage to FUCKING KILL THEMSELVES OVER IT. The single biggest mistake ‘grownups’ make is thinking what teenagers think and feel is invalid because they haven’t had life experience. At least you remember how real it FELT then. Get some fucking compassion while you’re out looking for a job.

You’ll make it through, Lucki. Just keep doing the slogging until you get up and out - life feels so much better when you have more control over your own life.

(FWIW, the ‘kick in the ass’ approach never worked with me, other than making me feel like shit for not being able to pull out of depression - reasonable and well meant ADVICE always helped. At least it let me know folks cared, no matter how my malfunctioning brain tried to tell me they didn’t.)

Lucki, I battled with feelings much like yours off and on for years. That wild all-consuming self-hatred began when I was 18. That is not a coincidence. Often clinical depression has its onset in early adulthood. Fourteen years ago, I found relief.

More likely than not, your brain chemistry has become imbalanced. When that happens, you are unable to pull yourself up by your bootstraps because your “attitude adjuster” is busted at the moment. So the first step is to stop blaming yourself!

You begin to see yourself as weak but that is an illusion caused by your brain chemistry. This state is not your fault!

The ONLY workable solution that I have found for myself is medication and a therapist whose judgment I trust. I too hate the side effects of medication. But it is better than the self-loathing and feeling like I am the only passenger on a runaway train. A different therapist and different medication can make all the difference in the world!

I’m sorry that I could not respond to you without talking about medicine and therapy. But I feel reasonably certain that if I had come to you and described a gangrenous leg, you would have urged me to see a doctor.

Clinical depression is not about the blues. It is about anger, self-loathing, lack of energy, feelings of utter hopelessness, problems with concentration, changes in appetite, changes in sleeping habits – for a period of more than a couple of weeks. These are just some of the symptoms. You may not have all of them.

The drugs that are used to make you high are usually depressants, I think. They can make the problem worse in the long run. (I sure hated giving up the weed, but I lived.)

One of my parents also tried to direct what I talked about in my therapy sessions long ago. I learned quickly not to discuss it with her. Don’t argue about it with them. Just refuse to discuss it unless your therapist tells you to.

It usually takes from three to six weeks before the medication starts to bring you back into a normal productive state. These are not “happy pills.” They just allow you to be the person that you really are.

When you are feeling a little better, maybe we can talk about the romantic experience that has caused you so much pain. I too tend to love with all of the stops pulled out. I understand.

I’m not a physician, but I would like to be a friend.