Pity Party!!!

This is not a thread for “chin up, cheer up,” comments. This is a threads for wallowing in self-pity. Come in, and kvetch a while. Here’s what I’m anteing up: [ul] [li]My beloved godfather died. I am not doing too well. I’m gaining weight, not sleeping, can’t focus on anything. I am depressed. I need to go back on my meds. But… []I can’t see my doctor until the end of MAY. He’s a good doctor. Too good, too busy. I need a new doctor. I can’t find a new doctor. I hate this. []I’m 90% sure the guy I really like doesn’t like me back. Sounds petty, but it’s increadibly annoying to have this keep happening to me. Just once I’d like the ones I like to be equally crazy about me. Meanwhile… []This other guy I work with asked me out. This is a bad thing, because I have no feelings for him at ALL. And it wasn’t like “Let’s get a drink sometime,” it was “I have feelings for you,” Feh. []Valentine’s Day. Nuff said. and lastly, but by far not the least…I have been going to school on a foundation grant from my Godfather’s father’s foundation. Because my godfather died, and the assholes who are now running the foundation are racist assholes, I have lost my grant. I feel like all the options I once had have been taken away. I know I can get grants and shit, but I had just gotten comfortable NOT worrying about this. [/ul][/li]
So I think life sucks donkey-balls. How about you?

Anniz is going back to Sweden tomorrow.

That’s the best I can do, sorry.

Hang in there, though, Swiddles.

I’ve been feeling more listless and tired lately, like I have mono again.

It’s somewhat depressing to hear all your “friends” at school talking about what happened last weekend and their plans for this weekend and never once invite you. I have tried to invite people to do stuff but usually they are already too busy or the few times I actually am doing something social I or whoever I am with is quite bored.

I’ve been having more slightly creepy/disturbing dreams/visions lately and wondering more if I am actually manic or schizophrenic.

<saunters off to look for chocolate cake>

I’ve been in love with my best friend since June. He’s the most incredible man I’ve ever ever met in my entire life. We’re bestest friends. But I have all these icky, yicky, nasty feelings for him that are ruining everything. Everytime I start to see someone new, I compare them to him and they come up short. I’ve nursed him through two broken hearts and just found out he’s getting back together with the girl who’s broken his heart both times. She’s beautiful, and tall and blonde - his type. I am none of the above, and have struggled to make my pea brain accept that he won’t ever like me that way.

The kicker? This might sound cheesy, but it’s killing me. I talked to him on the phone before I went out tonight, and we were talking about him getting back together with his girlfriend. I lent him my favorite book of poetry, and he tells me that this one poem made him change his mind about breaking it off with her. It is, of course, my favorite poem in the book. I sigh and recite my favorite line, “He made a bookcase for all her books.” No doubt this sounds silly, but the whole poem is about bringing each person’s best aspects to a relationship to make it work. When I first read that line, I cried.

And he goes, “That’s the line! That’s the line that made me realize we have to get back together and I have to accept her, blah blah blah.” Feh! That’s MY line! It made ME cry!

I love him, dammit. I’m not beautiful or tall or blonde, but why does it have to matter?


On top of my aunt dying three weeks ago, my uncle Bob died of cancer last Friday and my puppy, whom we took to get spayed, went into cardiac arrest and nearly died. She’s home now but still drugged up and out of sorts, and it’s just breaking my heart.

And I got paid today and my check is already nearly gone. I’m going to be broke for the next two weeks.

I would be curled up in the fetal position right now, except I went to see “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” for the third time tonight and it was so awesome, I can’t feel too pathetic.

I hate my life. :frowning:

sorry, Sara…you can’t make someone love you no matter how much you try or how much you think you deserve it…and the harder you try the more unlikely it is. Best of luck, and hope you find someone who both wants and deserves you…most of us never find that person.

All right, here’s me…

  1. I’ve had a crush on a particular girl for about four years now. There’ve been others who’ve grabbed my fancy occasionally, but it always came back to this one girl. Anyway, she’s seeing someone right now, so I spend my days resisting the urge to “hate the world” and all that. Anybody have any tips on how to “get over” someone really quick? 'Cuz the best I’ve come up with for the time being is “avoid contact with her”, but that’s quite an extreme measure…

  2. School. I just can’t seem to grasp it. And I can’t seem to get a handle on what I want to do with my life (I’m thinking of something art-related… or maybe writing… or maybe computers… or maybe acting… or maybe art… etc.)

  3. My seemingly-natural antisocial tendencies are really getting on my nerves. I’m deathly afraid of job interviews, I hate clubs, I hate malls… hell, I can’t stand calling people on the phone.

  4. My dad thinks I’m possessed by the Devil. No exaggeration… he’s called me stuff like “Devil’s Child” and the like on numerous occasions. It’s amusing, really… bein’ ostracized…

  5. My best friend’s having problems with her boyfriend, and I’m worried about her. And him. Both of 'em.

Anyway, I just want to throw out a big, fat, floppy “Fuck you” to all the happy people out there. And the first person to DARE give me a “virtual hug” is gonna get shmacked in the face ('course, now I know some smartass is gonna do it, just to piss me off even more).

I haven’t had a real-life human friend since I graduated high-school, 3+ years ago, and even then I only had two friends.

I’m 21 and I’ve never been in love, still a virgin, never even been kissed. Well, I’ve fallen in love with various people, but never once has it been reciprocated. Even if it were I wouldn’t know how the fuck to handle it.

I seem to have some kind of mental / emotional problems that prevent me from relating to other humans, I don’t feel like I belong to my own species, and I certainly don’t know how to start up a relationship with someoneone. Some friendly person will say hello to me, and even though I am painfully lonely I somehow just don’t comprehend the give & take of human relationships and nothing ever comes of anything. I’ve got it stuck in my head that I am a worthless creature, and really, nobody wants to talk to me so I shouldn’t burden them with my presence. The very, very few times anyone tries to have a conversation with me I just sit there like a goddamn fucking mute because I think that my opinion doesn’t matter and they certainly don’t want to hear it.

People think that I am cold and aloof and that I hate everybody. I hate nobody in this world except myself.

Lately I’ve been experienceing more and more of the textbook signs of depression / anxiety / general mental illness. My sleep cycle is all fucked up, I’m hardly eating, increasing paranoia, bizarre thought patterns, some mild hallucinations.

I swing back and forth between delirious anxiety and complete apathy, more often anxiety. A few years ago I had to make a 5 minute speech in front of one of my afternoon classes; I was so nervous I couldn’t eat for 2 days beforehand, and I spent that entire morning before curled up in bed, shivering. I’m better about those kinds of things now, but not by much.

Life, in general, is just too much, too much, too much. If I could live alone in a cabin in a remote wilderness, and only have to deal with my own survival, I might be okay.

In my short time on this planet I’ve made a few half-assed attempts at suicide. I’ve lately been considering a more serious attempt. My current suicide fantasy is to wait for a freezing cold night, down a handful of sleeping pills then wander through the woods until the pills knock me out, then let hypothermia take care of the rest. I haven’t yet worked up the courage to buy the pills yet, I doubt that I will. I don’t deserve the solace of death, I’m supposed to be miserable. I’m being punished for something, I just don’t know what it is.

If I had a gun I’d’ve been dead long ago. In high school I put off college plans until the last minute, because I honestly thought I would kill myself before ever reaching age 18 (how’m I supposed to explain that the guidance counselor when he asks why I haven’t taked the SATs) I’m shocked I’ve made it to 21; I feel incredibly old.

It’s becoming increasingly obvious to me that I need to seek some professional help, but the very symptoms of my disease prevent me from doing so. I don’t deserve happiness or even sanity, not even a pyschologist would want to listen to me; he’s got other people to help, etc., etc.


I think I’m going to go scratch at my wrist with my fingernail until I bleed. That’s always a happy fun-time activity.


  1. yes
  2. yes
  3. yes
  4. yes
  5. yes
  6. sorry.

"“It is true, that which I have revealed to you: there is no God, no universe,
no human race, no earthly life, no heaven, no hell. It is all a dream - a grotesque and foolish dream.
Nothing exists but you. And you are but a thought - a vagrant thought, a useless thought,
a homeless thought, wandering forlorn among the empty eternities!”

He vanished, and left me appalled; for I knew, and realized, that all he had said was true."

The Mysterious Stranger, Mark Twain

I cried when I read your post.

You’re obviously an intelligent person. You can see that you have all the signs of depression going on, but you’re missing the fact that depression is messing with your perceptions since you feel that you’re unworthy of friendship, let alone help with your problem.


Who gives a damn if a psychologist WANTS to listen to you? If you’re the patient, they’re getting PAID to listen to you. If you feel they’re not giving you enough respect or help, go find another one who will.

There’s a strong history of depression in my family. My grandmother had it, my mother had it, and all of my living siblings have been treated with either drugs and/or therapy within the last 5 years. I had a cousin who hanged himself 6 years ago, and my brother attempted suicide by shooting himself in the chest 5 years ago.

Thankfully my brother survived, and found a more competent psychiatrist after his suicide attempt. (The dear professional he was seeing before the attempt didn’t even bother to make a house call to the hospital during the month he was in there.) My brother means the world to me, and I had a lot of anger toward him after he shot himself. (Which I felt I couldn’t really express to him, because I was walking on eggshells around him for the most part. My primary emotions, though, were relief that he survived - and fear that he might try it again.)

Since I was afraid to express any of this to him, I talked a lot with my younger sister, who has suffered from full-blown depression, and has been treated with anti-depressants. How could he do that, when he knew the anguish our whole family went through when our cousin killed himself? How could he do that, and leave an 11 year old daughter? (He lived alone; his ex-wife had primary custody.) How DARE he set an example to his daughter and nieces and my son that suicide was an acceptable way out? IT ISN’T.

My sister explained to me that when you’re depressed, you really just cannot see things straight. You’re incapable of seeing a way out for yourself, let alone how anything will affect anyone else.

Depression is an illness. It is nothing to be ashamed of. Please get help. And if the first person you see is of no help to you, try someone else.


Hey lunatic -

I’ve got to agree with YWalker here. Psychologists are there PRIMARILY to help people just like you. Sometimes you have to try a couple to find the right fit. Everybody’s got a different style, it took me several months to find mine, but she’s helped me stay level headed and off depression meds through a lot of shit. Please go look for one. In the meantime you may want to try St. John’s Wort for the depression, it’s worked as well or better than prozac or wellbutrin for a couple of my friends and my father, and you don’t need a prescription.

Now here’s my pity party -

I got laid off on Thursday. With my severence package I have enough to to survive for 2 months. I wanted to change careers, and had arranged to do so within my company over the next few months. I just did some research and the program that I need to learn to get the jobs I want costs $1500. The training class to learn to use it costs $900 and doesn’t start until March. Fuck.


I echo Ywalker and slackergirl. Please get help. From your posts I see that you are an honest, intelligent, worthwhile and sincere person. We need to see a whole lot more of you on these boards.

I have reactive depression myself. I’ve had days of curling up in a ball on the bed and not wanting to move, wishing the world would roll right on without me. I took my mother’s death hard three years ago, and have recently resigned from my job, and still struggle to keep self-esteem. But I do keep up the struggle. I try not to let my anxiety problems get the better of me. I was like you at your age – virtually zero friends, but now I’m glad to say I have a kind and caring network.

I’m sorry if this isn’t what this thread is after, or even what’s wanted in the Pit. I just care about you, Lunatic13. E-mail me if you wish.

Hey Lunatic13, just adding my voice to the chorus. I’ve read a few of your posts. I like you. I’d really hate to see you go. Hang in there.

Lunatic13, let me put my two cents in - you’re exactly right when you say your condition makes you not want to get help. You’re also halfway there by acknowledging that. When my anxiety disorder gets out of control, I get anxious about going to a doctor. Negative feedback cycle. As soon as I force myself to go to the doctor and get the meds I need to treat my very easy to treat condition, I never understand why I didn’t go sooner. Like everyone else has said, go. Make the appointment, and put your foot on the path to feeling better.

BTW, anyone care to comment on my theory that highly intelligent people have more mental health difficulties than people of “average” intelligence? Sometimes it seems that my brain is running at such a high RPM that it is only logical that it will have some glitches.

I think this thread’s just been hijacked.

featherlou, I don’t think there’s a correlation between intelligence (high/medium/low) and mental illness. It happens to everyone, for whatever reason, regardless of environment. In large part, its hereditary.

I think, in my case – it depends on how intensely you live your life, and care about things.

When I get my “downs” – I find looking at SDMB helps a hell of a lot. Keeps my mind working, instead of falling down that deep hole.

Ahh! Sympathy!! I was promised this would be a sympathy-free event. I want my money back.

sigh And I’ve made a perfect stranger cry. Jesus, man, I’m sorry. Don’t cry, it’s not so bad. Err… I’m used to it, at any rate. This is the kind of stuff I’ve been dealing with for as long as I can remember; it just seems to be my natural mindset.

Which is the main reason I have refrained from seeking help. Where does “personality quirk” end and “mental illness” begin?

And then there’s the really sick part of me that says I should foster this madness because all the great artists and poets were insane, and if I want to be te next Van Gogh I’ve got to keep myself crazy. :rolleyes: The sad thing is it really works. Last summer was one of the lowest periods of my life; last summer I also created one of my best paintings to date. At one point I found myself once again contemplating suicide, but I talked myself out of it by reasoning, “How could I, in good conscience, leave this world without completing Two Women?” So suicide would have to wait until I finished the painting, and by the time that was accomplished there were other things to distract me from my head. But I find that if I can get myself in a wretched enough state that I exist only for my art, then I can create some things that, I think, are quite beautiful. I sometimes feel like a medieval monk, flagellating myself to be closer to god.

shrug I dunno…

I might look into St. Johns Wort. Knowing my own head, I think I have problems that go beyond just depression, but I suppose St. Johns Wort couldn’t hurt. I could at least be a happy pyschotic. :slight_smile:

errr… “psychotic” rather, and “the” (next Van Gogh). Damn, and I previewed, too.


Swiddles, I can’t help you with much, but I will when I can. Even if it is another slow-draining trap. . .
I don’t know if you like country music, but it cheers me up, so I’m putting some on so I think you feel better.


Lunatic, I want you to listen to me very carefully. I want you to strike up a conversation with anyone at school/work/house/wherever, and find someone you can bond with. Then slowly release some of this angst. I am not offering pity, but I think you need to get proactive about this. I can see that you value art, so you have something to perk up about.

The best help I have ever gotten myself is an ear to chew on.

If you need, you can bend my ear for a bit. . .

Currently, I am kind of a pariah around here, but please, don’t discount this post. I have long experience with the matters many of you are voicing.
I am 38, have clinical depression and all the attendant world-view coloring. I have been diagnosed as quite possibly psychotic, having border-line personaly disorder, a sociopath, depressed, manic-depressive, and as possibly suffering a combination of several other maladies. I am an alchoholic/drug addict, clean for several years now. I have chased off my kids, SOs, potential girlfriends and family members and don’t make friends. I mention this only to establish the fact that I have experience with the feelings many of you are reporting in this thread.

((((Swiddles and sara))))
No, of course it’s not unreasonable to want to find someone who is as crazy about you as you are of them. That’s the best basis for a good, loving relationship I can think of, and very, very healthy to want. Please don’t give up looking. It’s simple- the one who catches the fish is the one who keeps fishing until they do. Little bit cavalier there, I know and apologise.
And you definitely have my deepest sympathies- it absolutely sucks the dead to be crazy-wild about someone and the feeling is not returned. I am sorry.
sara, get off it girl- you are witty and pithy in your posts, and the pic of you on the members’ pages shows a very beautiful, wonderfully smiling young woman. If you are alone now, it’s only probably because the creator is properly evolving somebody such that they are fit to be with you, and it’s taking some time. Have heart, ok?
Swiddles, I am not so familiar with you, but the op reveals a person who is going through some serious shite. And what do you do? You take it and make it an excellent, much needed opportunity for others to share their problems. And, in spite of the uncertainty and crappy things you are facing, you do this with a wonderful under-stated sense of irony. Outstanding, in my book.
You made me smile- you too, have a great sense of the under-stated ironic. Your comments in your love lament lead me to believe that when you do find someone, you will naturally love her fiercely and well.
As for the job interviews- shit, just pretend that the interviewers are newbies to the boards. Adopt a kindly attitude, and blow them away. Along with how you describe yourself in your life, you are also SPOOFE BO DIDDLY- for reals- it’s in you. Use the SPOOFE force, buddy. You are real, multi-dimensional, multi-dementable. You are worth no less than the happy people.
BTW, does your dad wear truly awful bermuda shorts ever?

Ahh, Lunatic.
I so am like that, indeed, share many of the feelings and thoughts voiced in this thread.
Please, don’t listen to that shit in your head. You are hugely gracious, as evidenced in your posts here. Email me absolutely any time you care to, if you care to, especially if you are feeling a wee bit suicidal. I am just coming out of very protracted period of that. I suspect that I would enjoy being a real-life, human friend of yours.
Now listen- I am not telling anything, but rather, asking you to consider the following:
You sound just like me in almost every aspect…
I have actual chemical problems in my brain. I recently became aloft on Zoloft, after many years of fighting the idea of taking hed meds. It’s helping. I hate to admit it, but it’s helping. I think I may need something in addition to the Zoloft, but there you have it, it’s better than it was until recently.
All I’m saying is to consider this idea. The only way to learn how to socialize, how to handle a relationship, is to do some socializing, have a relationship. And that can be impossible if you have imbalnces in your brain. Again- I’m not saying you do, but that you might and it’s worth checking into.
Please talk to people who talk to you- you are an excellent conversationalist, from what I’ve read, and I find your words eminently worth hearing.

oh yeah-
You are, every single one of you, worth your weight in happy people…

sorry swiddles- i was inappropriate re the very first line of your post…didn’t mean to be.

(what’s a post w/o a little laugh in it somewheres, right?)

Argh! Don’t apologize! You should be proud that something you wrote could evoke such strong emotions. I think I’ve managed to bore a few people to tears, but that’s about the extent of my writing skills. If you would’ve written something like, “I’m depressed. Life sux,” nobody would’ve batted an eyelash. But you managed to capture a little piece of your life in such an eloquent and direct manner that other people can read your post and feel some of the same things you are feeling. That’s no small feat. We sure as hell don’t hold it against you. I know you weren’t exactly looking for a big sloppy hug-fest where we all tell you how sorry we feel for you, but at least you deserve a pat on the back for being able to write it all down – and convince a few or your fellow dopers to actually care about you. I know I sound like I’m giving you a goddamn pep-talk, and if you resent me for it, I understand :slight_smile:

Well, I would never consider something that causes you so much anguish a “personality quirk”. You shouldn’t have to live that way and you shouldn’t consider it part of your personality. You’d still be the same person without all the depression and anxiety mixed in, you’d just be a whole hell of a lot happier.

Forget St. John’s Wort. Go to the doctor and get some real meds! You need to get the serotonin flowing in that brain of yours, pronto. Hey, and if you don’t like the person you become, or if your art suffers, you can always go back to being depressed again. No obligations. At least give it a try.

Like a few other people in this thread I extend my email address to you if you want somebody to talk to. Frankly, you sound like someone I’d really be interested in getting to know. So write to me, okay? And no, this has nothing to do with whether or not I feel sorry for you. If anything, I can relate to what you’re going through, because I’m experiencing some of the same things myself. Misery loves company.