[With props to Dario Argento for the appropriation of the title.]
Warning: Really Bitchy Venting Ahead
I give up.
It’s been 12 years now that I’ve been fighting an endless uphill battle against my ever-increasing mental health problems and the result remains the same… nothing truly helps. The agoraphobia / depression / anxiety / blah blah blah are still not even remotely under control and what typically works with other people (no matter how long it takes or effort involved) just leaves me feeling inept.
So…
No more therapy.
No more medication.
No more trying to use my experience to help others.
No more research.
No more seeking support.
No more acquisition of ‘tricks’ to get me through another day.
No more hospital stays.
I’m done. If it’s going to be like this regardless, I no longer see any need to waste what little money we have or get my almost non-existent hopes up. I’m sick of constantly failing, disappointing everyone and losing my humanity because none of this is understandable. And I’ve almost lost one of the few things that I still cherish; my sense of humor. Maybe embracing the bottom of the barrel will in turn give me some modicum of stoicism, as well as a stable place to begin drinking myself to death. I can only wish.
Thanks for listening again.
/ bitter diatribe by exhausted, useless, pessimistic wreck
I can’t even imagine what it’s like to face what you’re facing, but my hope is that this is just a temporary setback. I can understand the feeling of just wanting to give up, which at first blush sounds like a bad idea, but maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. (Disclaimer: IANAP) It may be a good thing to accept your reality for what it is, as that might give you a more solid foundation from which to work.
Thank you everyone. I actually managed to get a couple of hours’ sleep between that post and now. Unfortunately, the feelings behind it are no better, but I’m not on the verge of another meltdown… yet.
I appreciated the laugh Winston and Zebra. And none to worry, there have been no toilet seats harmed in the making of this clusterfuck. Otaku, I’m sure you’re just checking up on the status of Demon Bob. I see how you all are.
freekalette, my mini me, don’t follow in this part of my footsteps. If you somewhat must, work your insanity like a dominatrix on a pleather binge in July. Then something creative should come about to pull you away from the abyss. Doesn’t work for me, but I expect better things from you.
I’m grateful for the offers of PM / email exchanges nocturnal and Auto. Sadly though, keeping up with any sort of correspondence simply is another way for me to push people away so they don’t have to share my shit. It’s another phobia that takes so long to even briefly overcome that I alienate everyone trying to help in the process. However, I’ll keep this in mind and if I’m not completely afraid… Anyway, you’re both very sweet.
Finally to lorene and tdn; Drinking myself to death isn’t really the plan per se,’ just a possible byproduct. I’ve mostly eschewed alcohol since I’ve been certifiable for fear of how it’ll negatively effect any medication, but now if that part has ceased… well, we’ll see. And to a degree, “accepting my reality” is exactly what I was going for. After all this time, I don’t view this as a temporary setback, but I’m beginning to see it as irreversible. Might as well go ahead and dance with the Devil then.
Once more, thank you everyone. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you guys to talk to.
Of course, when I say this, I don’t mean it in the frame of giving in to despair. I mean just accept that this is the way things are for you right now, and be OK with that – for now. You’ve tried a bunch of stuff that hasn’t worked, and now that you’re back to square one, you’re free to try other stuff.
faithfool, seriously, I’m not too worried about Bob. He’s an immortal spirit, after all. Anything happens to him, and he’ll just find someone new to pester.
I can’t give you any great and grand advice, myself. As you may have figured from my own situation, I’ve pretty much hit my own wall this past year, too. Telling you anything that smacks of “It will get better,” would be so hypocritical as to leave me feeling like I were covered in shit.
I just know, for completely selfish reasons, I’d miss you if you were to stop posting. It may boil down to, simply, “If she’s still making it through today, maybe I can, too.” It’s not a great and glorious solution, but maybe we can prop each other up a bit, with our own particular lists…
Boy I think I know what you mean. It’s dawning on me that I will never be “ok” and I think I am just staying alive so that I can still do my addictions…great.
