You forgot to mention how fucking rich you claim to be.
Some of you guys seem to be doing it really tough. I have no complaints about my life.
Agrees with Cicero. Some threads here are painful to read, and this is one of them. You folks have my sincere sympathy. I have a lot of complaints, but they are all small first world problems that are best kept in the monthly rant thread.
I am a down as I have ever been and don’t know why. I have a good job, bills are paid, not wanting for anything. I am just not happy. I don’t have any friends and today has been especially hard. I have contemplated just ending it all. No one would care.
Just listening to all these sad stories makes me feel reluctant about posting. My shit just doesn’t compare…especially to Rushgeekgirl’s life.
But I’ll post (incoherently) anyway, just for the record:
I am taking charge. Making things happen. Acting on urges, however spontaneous or out in left field. I’m doing what I can to feel alive, connected, and grounded to this here planet.
But it’s not working.
My body is not connected to my mind. I don’t feel hunger–I just know I have to eat. I don’t feel worry or anxious–even though I’m in worrisome and anxiety-inducing situations. I don’t feel happy or excited–even though I’m also in happy and exciting times. I don’t feel meh or blah. I just don’t feel. Tomorrow isn’t bleak and depressing. It just isn’t.
I’m moving into my new place right now. I should feel tired from walking a gazillion times up and down the stairs with heavy boxes, but I feel nothing. I should at least feel excited about setting up a new house, but I can’t. It doesn’t even seem real to me. It seems like it belongs to someone else…that I’m watching someone else move into a new house. Today at the Home Depot I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a mirror and halfway expected to see someone else.
I did feel bad at yoga today, because I was no longer an invisible disembodied head floating along in my thoughts. I couldn’t hide my lack of body awareness in the midst of all those eyes. Jesus, I felt like a special ed student today. The teacher had to tell her assistant to help me set up my blankets and mat because I had done it all wrong (again)…even though I only had to stack three blankets and fold the mat on top. And then, while everyone was doing the pose, all I could do was lie on my back and stare up at the ceiling like a vegetable because I had somehow missed all the directions and I didn’t want to hurt myself trying to do the pose without them. The instructor offered me a wan smile at the end and gave me a little pump talk and an arm squeeze in response to my mumbled expression of gratitude. Her assistant said I was an inspiration and that she was SO very proud of me. I can’t tell if they were being serious or just trying to make me feel better. I left as quickly as I could just to get back to nothingness. I guess they didn’t make me feel better.
When I see my doctor, I will tell her I don’t feel depressed or anything else, and she will use these sentiments to conclude that I am very depressed and I just don’t know it. And she will shake her head grimly as she makes notes on my chart. And I will then quickly tell her something to make her think that I’m actually doing much better than she thinks. Like, I’ll tell her about my new place and how I bought a rocking chair for the front porch, and how happy my cats are now that they get to go outside. But she won’t believe that I’m doing better. She’ll make me re-new my suicide contract.
I am fortunate because I remember how stressful life is when you’re constantly feeling, and I do not want to go back to those days. But this deep not-feeling experience I’m going through…I would like for it to lighten up a little. I don’t want to go to the other extreme of being hypersensitive and overly emotional, but somewhere in the middle is a life with meaning and purpose. I would like to go to that place.
See, this is just a little complaint.
No, that’s not a small complaint. You are depressed. I know it - the complete emptiness, feeling nothing at all.
Monstro, may I ask if you are trying any anti-depressants? I’ve been in that feel nothing stage, sucks bad. It is a symptom when you no longer get joy out of the things you used to love. I don’t know why it was so hard for me to admit I needed help, but it wasn’t before I started attaching to any feeling just to feel something. I highly recommend skipping that trip.
I’m on Wellbutrin, which is supposed to be good for anhendonia and blunt affect. I’m also slowwwwly weaning off of clonazepam. Because my hypothesis is that the c-pams were exacerabating my detachment, since I’ve never had any over-the-top anxiety for it to eat away at. Perhaps my body is reacting to the withdrawal with extra numbness? I don’t know. That seems counter-intuitive but at least it’s an idea.
I’m whine some more.
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My sweet tooth is the only thing working at full strength. I just ate dinner and tasted about 40% of it. I really need to get this fixed somehow because I can’t afford to lose anymore weight. Especially with the weather getting cold.
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My therapist cut my session in half today for a phone call she had to make. The downside of being the last patient of the day, I guess. And because she knew I was in bad shape but didn’t have a lot of time for me, she gave me a crazy “you think you got it bad?” talk. Not a mean one, but a silly one. Meant to make me laugh but instead made me feel a lot worse because I could sense the desperation in it. And I knew I was supposed to laugh but I couldn’t.
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My estrogen level has taken its menstrual bungee drop. Which may explain EVERYTHING (damn ovari and uterus, messing up my worldview and shit). But as often happens when estrogen takes a mini vacation, my Parkinsonian gait is back. Gee, thanks, body and brain. Not only are ya’ll dropping the ball on the emotional front, but you’ve dropped soda or something all also the motor control panel. I not only feel like a crazy-ass robot, but I gotta look like one too? I guess I’ll just suck it up and deal. But dammit to hell.
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My cat scratched me all up the other day. Really really bad. I hope I never have to put his gray ass in a kennel carrier again. The experience was horrible for the both of us.
My college grad moved to another city and it’s her birthday. She moved to follow a boyfriend who’s going to grad school there, they have an apartment, she has a new job of a month. So she calls me crying her eyes out. Misses us, misses her friends, doesn’t like the job, is all alone on her birthday because the boyfriend has some shit job he works after school and she’s all alone till he gets home whenever. Nobody to talk to, nowhere to go. I’m afraid for her, I know she’s not eating, winter’s coming, and she has a crummy old car and NO savings. The idiot she followed out to the new city has no savings. She is screwed. I’m afraid for her. I talk to her and hear such sadness in her voice. I could just cry. But what are you gonna do? I send her a few bucks, try to cheer her up, tell her things will settle down and she’ll make friends and her life will turn out fine. I could just cry. Told her she can always move back home. Yeah, that went over big…
I can’t offer up anything but sympathy for 1-3. No advice. Lots of virtual hugs, though.
I can offer up advice for 4).
If you have room, take the door off the carrier, put blankies in and on it and leave it under a windowsill. Kitty will get used to it and will use it to look out the window.
If you don’t have room, the day before you have to take kitty to the vet, bring the carrier out and put it somewhere close to where you spend a lot of time. Place it so the door is up.
On the horrible day, open the door, hold kitty so butt is down, head up. Lots of reassuring ear scratches and words. Move your hand off butt and hold the back legs while grabbing the front legs with your other hand. Lower kitteh butt first into the carrier and slam the door.
One of the only scars I have on my hands came from being careless while trying to put a cuddly declawed cat into a carrier. The freak out can come so fast.
More virtual hugs.
I am working full time and going to law school. It’s hard. I’m not really allowed to complain because I signed up for this life, and some of my classmates are working, going to school and raising kids on top of that.
However, I can complain when the school administration does stupid things like scheduling us for one hour-and-a-half class on Monday and one on Wednesday, instead of just having both on Monday or Wednesday. Fuckers.
I am trying to think happy thoughts for everyone in this thread.
My own life, after a long downhill slide for the past few years, is looking better and better - on paper. I should be ecstatically happy. But I’m still anxious, guilty, and frustrated as fuck with a stupid situation that makes me feel 14 years old and that there is no real solution to. God damn it.
If I could quit the job that paid my bills that would mostly solve the problem but a] I LIKE the job and b] I NEED the job - and ultimately want to work full-time hours there. Which will make things worse.
Also I kind of hate myself for not being able to control my own emotions. It’s a first for me - I guess I’m lucky it didn’t happen til I was 26 years old and less of an idiot.
Is that a real thing? I mean, a “pact” makes sense, but presumably your contract is a different kind of agreement…
And if you uh, fail to… that is, if you break the ah, terms… how does the other party collect, exactly?
It does sound a weird, doesn’t it?
I think it’s pretty standard form they give you if you are seeing a practitioner and let it slip that you are experiencing intense suicidal thoughts. The first time she made me sign the thing I was like, “Say what?” It’s not legally binding or anything, but it does make me feel somewhat obligated. You can do a google search on “suicide contract” if you want to see what one looks like.
When I was feeling really bad one time (a side-effect of a drug, I’m thinking), I found relief in banging my head against the wall (literally). A part of the contract is telling the therapist when you have a suicidal attempt, so I asked her if head-banging fell into that category. She asked if I had broken the skin and I told her no. So she made up a rule on the fly that I could continue as long as I didn’t break the skin. Guessing she’s never heard of a contusion or a concussion? 
I have a tiny but embarrassing confession. Beautiful fall day today. I put on my leather jacket, walking shoes, planned on taking a brisk walk. Stopped by the library to return a book. Sat down in one of their comfy overstuffed sling chairs to look at a magazine article. Fell sound asleep for 10 minutes, with two senior citizens snoozing away, on either side of me. WTF?..I, too, leave the cat carrier out and open. I put a cat treat inside on the towel, and when he sticks his front half in to give it a sniff, give him a quick push and slam the door behind him. Dogs associate the carrier with ‘vet’, cats don’t seem to retain that knowledge.
One of my cats (don’t know about the other one) knows that carriers mean car trips, which she hates passionately. So she hides when she sees me pull it out.
My cat is a genius, though, so YMMV.
Oh, my cat is a dummy. The appearance of the carrier inspires curiosity, not terror.
Well, the cat that went crazy has never been taken to the vet in one of those carriers. As far as I know, it’s only been in one of those things exactly once in his life. So it was scared for reasons unknown to me.
Poor thing, though. He’s been extra nice to me ever since it happened.
Just depression. Always depression. It seems to have gotten worse since I went on a new contraceptive. It has now been months without much relief. I would go off the contraceptive, but it was a last resort to try to control what is probably endometriosis. Nothing else worked. So I get to choose between debilitating pain or debilitating depression.
I’ve been exercising daily. It helps my mood for 2-3 hours afterward.
I’m trying to learn new ways to cope, but progress lately has been slower than I’d like. I am surrounded by wonderful people and many creature comforts, but damned if I can’t enjoy it as much as I’d like.
Your life isn’t bad at all.
You have a computer and electricity. That is a better life than 99 percent of the humans on planet earth.
Go visit your local usa hospital emergency room waiting room with your complaint to the triage nurse, and see how far it gets you.