A Good Life Wasted

Discussion in 'Rants, Musings and Ideas' started by Three Hares, Jun 2, 2009.

  1. Three Hares

    Three Hares Member

    The act of composing this makes me feel like a charlatan. I have no right to loiter here alongside people with genuine, pressing problems. If I weren't alone, if it weren't for the thunderstorm, I'd suppress my thoughts with the ease cultivated by a lifetime of practice. Yet here I am, alone in the dark, and I'm afraid of thunder.
    That was a loud one.
    Anyone who knows me is aware that I have no tangible problems. I'm in good health, young enough to have adventures and old enough to reflect on them. My sweet husband tells me bedtime stories, and holds my hand when I am startled by thunder or centipedes or all the other things that scare me. My friends single me out as the unique one, the one who attempts to do the things we all talk about over dinner and passing time. I am their eternal mascot; cute, bright, invoking an urge to protect. My small, broken family holds me as their ultimate example.
    I am a writer. I hate to admit it. I am also a model. I hate to admit that even more. I get paid to look pretty and play dress up. Others pay me to spin lies into paper and ink. People would commit crimes to have the life I do. The freedom, the creative spark. I know it's wasted on me. I hate the mask I affect in my photographs. I am too short, fat, and ugly by the industry standards. Before long I will be too old.
    At least the thunder is rolling away- I spoke too soon.
    I have a novel waiting on my laptop screen in the window behind this one. I don't know if I'll complete it. The story deserves better than to be stranded in my mind while grief chokes it out like so many others. For every tale I save a hundred more shrivel. I have gifts, I am obliged to use them. I'd rather be free of expectations, praise, pressure. I am so very tired.
    I attempted suicide five years ago on the day after Thanksgiving. I was hospitalized, I drank orange juice and did worksheets on safety plans. No one ever gave me a clear diagnosis. Even the experts agree that I have no reason to hate myself. I made one true friend in the hospital. I adore him. We slip in and out of one another spheres when we need empathy. Aside from him, I have sympathy, not empathy. My friends want to help. I love them for it. My husband listens. He asks questions. He doesn't understand. I don't want him to. I would never condemn another soul to know what this feels like.
    I doubt anyone will read this. Whoever does will probably get the impression that I'm a precocious little twit who aced her SAT vocabulary. I'm sorry that I'm not bipolar or schizophrenic, an addict, a victim, unloved or abandoned. There is no greater guilt than that of one living a dream they can't enjoy.
  2. cult logic

    cult logic Staff Alumni

    Just because your problems don't seem a great doesn't mean you're in any less pain.

    You have every right to reach out, and I'm glad you did.

    Are you currently in therapy or on medication?

    I'm sorry that I don't really have any advice, but I read your post and understand how you're feeling. :hug:
  3. GeekGurl

    GeekGurl Well-Known Member

    If I had your skill maybe I could compose a suitable reply.

    I'm not sure it really needs saying, but you're not a charlatan, and you are certainly most welcome here.

    How could any other human being ever comprehend your pain? I can try to empathise, but I can't understand, not really. I have my own problems, circumstances, pain, but even if we were twins, if our DNA were identical, we had the same life and same circumstances. How we felt, responded, thought, what we believed, they way that we dealt with the same problems would be totally different. Even feeling what we both described as the same emotion, would be a different experience for each of us.

    So how you feel is valid, and you shouldn't judge yourself harshly for it. There are people who live what I'd consider to be a crappy life and are happy. And by the same token people who claim their life would be perfect if they were a super hot writer/model don't know dick! maybe they would be happy in those circumstance but it doesn't mean that you should be.

    ugh that last statement needs expansion but then gets messy, and totally ruins my flow, by "should" i mean that you shouldn't judge yourself as somehow being "bad", or "spoiled", or other similar words that malicious people use, for not responding to something as other people determine to be correct.

    but of course you _should_ be happy, both from the perspective of if there was nothing wrong, and from the standpoint of your basic right.

    what I'm getting at here (trying to work my way back to something that vaguely represents communicating) is that you shouldn't feel guilty or ashamed. If anything, you should be angry, something is wrong, has been for some time, you've tried to get help and yet still no one can even tell you what it is and nothing has gotten better.

    But you shouldn't give up, there is masses of help available, therapies, drugs etc. it just takes persistence and effort and a willingness to try over and over and over again.
    Last edited by a moderator: Jun 2, 2009
  4. Brighid Moon

    Brighid Moon Member & Antiquities Friend

    You're feeling pain. One person can't compare their pain to another person's and say "their's is more" or "mine is less". We all have varying degrees of what we can cope with, and we all are individuals with our own perceptions, which also can not be compared. Existentialist, I know. What matters is that you're in pain, I'm in pain, so many people on this forum are in pain. I had no idea, and to think that this is only one small forum. How can we compare? Your pain is as valid as mine - is as valid as theirs. I'm sorry you're feeling pain. I also understand the guilt. Intimately.
  5. Three Hares

    Three Hares Member

    Your points are well put and well taken. I actually have a twin, a very nice and normal girl, so I speak from experience when I say both nature and nurture are blameless. I am angry, but my anger comes out as tears and babbling. I know I'm not the only one who expresses it so. I am defective.
    I seldom take the opportunity to let my pain loose. The majority of my acquaintances have no inkling of what I really am.
    Thank you all for your interest and replies.