Apologies for the length(might trig)

Discussion in 'Rants, Musings and Ideas' started by notmyrealname, May 4, 2008.

  1. notmyrealname

    notmyrealname Well-Known Member

    This is not a post I've thought about lightly. This text has been worked on for a long fucking time(according to windows this text file was created in 2006) and I've put as much thought and feeling into it as I can without making it sound like I'm doing this as a joke. Although, I'm not what you would call the sharpest knife in the drawer so if you view it as such then I apologize and this can be locked.

    I am depressed, possibly manic. I have periods of time where I lose all energy for anything and nothing matters to me. These tend to be temporary, and while I'm not especially happy I'm able to provide myself with distraction. It tends to happen in monthly to bi-monthly cycles, I haven't really thought of trying to map a pattern because I figure that would just make me feel worse.

    I've been having bouts of depression since I was a kid, no, younger than that. There are two instances from my childhood which I can pinpoint as when I was seriously depressed. One, I remember walking down a street with my sister and walking my dog. Well, I was walking in the middle of the street telling my sister how much happier I, and everybody else, would be if I were dead. The other; I was taken to CHEO(childeren's hospital of eastern ontario) to speak with a phsyciatrist to "discuss" my issues. I remember speaking with someone there with my parents before talking to the doctor. I was asked what it felt like when I had these bouts of depression. I said that it felt like a nervous breakdown, everybody laughed and so did I as it was a joking response to a question I didn't have an answer for. The scene changes to the doctor asking me what I meant when I said it felt like a breakdown. I started crying because I didn't want to tell him it was a joke and that I had no better answer. Next I'm in the van being driven home, puking into a plastic bag. Everything else that happened in the hospital is completley blocked out. Years later, I was told that there was quite a bit of talking being done by me. One other thing I can't remember that I was told; there was a drawing board in the kids play area, I was taking the crayons and smashing them on the paper for no particular reason, I may have been trying to draw, who knows.

    When I was in high school, we were allowed for about 15 minutes to take a peek at our permanent records, in there was a transcript from when I was talking to that psyciatrist. I said multiple times how much I wanted to die and how much happier that would make me and everybody else.

    Possibly because of events like those above or what, I've become a rather shy person. I don't like talking to people or going to any social gathering. I always have the feeling that I'm being put on display and that if I say or do anything wrong I'll be shunned, or looked down upon by those people. I would rather they never know me in the first place so I don't have the chance to look like an idiot.

    I don't go to bars, I don't "party". I've only been drunk thrice in my life and none of those times were around friends(but that's another story). I've never been high. I suppose you could think of me as being "square", the oppotunities have just never come up, well I don't think I was the kind of person people wanted to get "high" with. I realize that it's really not that big of an issue. The majority of the population go their entire lives with doing any kind of medicinal herb. It's just something I've wanted to do and I couldn't.

    I remember a time when I think I was happy, I had lots of friends, I even had a girlfriend. It was between grades 3 and 5. "Girlfriend" is a relative term, you understand, but then, that many years ago just about everything is relative. On reflection those were the years that I was saying how much I wanted to kill myself and it was in those times that I was taken to CHEO. I suppose I simply remember those times with a child-like rememberance. Then, I moved to a new school. As much fun as that was, I had one or two friends, depending on which one decided I could be their friend that day. I would skip school constantly, not because I was going out or had anything better to do, school was hell, I couldn't do it all the time. I prayed for the day I was out of there, I prayed that something would happen that would allow me to not go back, usually I prayed the school bus would run me over. Yes, yes, as whiny as all that sounds, and you guys may have gone through the same shit I did, the description of my school life is important to what happens later in the story.

    From grade 6 to grade 12 I had one friend, sometimes. When I wasn't an inconvenience to be a friend. Nobody in the school really liked me, some would pretend, but their feelings would come out in the end, a few I swear wanted to kill me if they got a chance. Certainly to have me expelled. Whenever myself and "them" were in line of sight of each other I was either being intimidated into starting a fight with them or I was running away from the fight they were trying to start with me. So, I stayed(see: hid) in the library or one of the computer rooms as much as possible and either buried my face in a bit of turbo pascal code or some old novel that I could never finish. It worked most of the time. And along with all of that, I had a rather severe case of acne, and while popular science did a good job of helping me out with it later on, it wasn't fun before the pills took effect. Not that it mattered, the pills changed the way I looked on the outside but not how I felt or how everyone else saw me. So, I went through the usual "jibs" and "threats" and "friendly" punches or kicks. I took it because I had no choice, I tried to ignore them but it didn't really seem to matter. It was like, the less attention I payed the worse they got. Teachers weren't any help, they all thought I was being as whiny as you guys probably think I am. Most of my teachers were just as bad as the rest of the students, some were indifferent.

    So, I would walk with a hunch always looking at the floor. Making eye contact with anybody was just asking for trouble. I would say as little as posible to the smallest number of people as possible. I was humiliated in front of my classmates by teachers that, as far as I could tell, didn't like me. I was humiliated in front of girls by guys who were much bigger than I was and I was once forced to get down on my knees to apologize to a girl, surrounded by her closest 50 friends, for something that wasn't my fault.

    All in all, it wasn't the most confidence building time of my life, thank god I was able skip prom night. Though, when I graduated I did get a nifty little trophy from the music teacher and my name engraved on a plaque for it, so it wasn't all bad, just most of it was. Plus, it still took four years before I got that so it wasn't the best positive reinforcement they could think of.

    Through it all, I had a computer. It was the one thing really keeping me from doing something drastic. I would come home, I would sit in front of it and I would play untill I was tired, then go to sleep and then school. Wolfenstein 3D was in it's heyday, Doom was out and Duke3d and Rise of the Triad were on the horizon. It was a chance to completely escape everything that had happened that day. While playing, I could forget for a few hours that I even went to school, the things that happened that day would disappear into the background. I could be comfortable sitting in that chair in the dark and watch the flashing lights as I opened a can of whop ass on whoever crossed my path. It was the perfect out-of-situation solution, if there was a dance at school I would play on the computer and not think about what I might be missing out on. If there was any kind of social gathering that mattered I could play on the computer(for full disclosures sake, there were two school dances I braved back in elementary). For the time that I was in front of my monitor I could not think about how depressed I was or that I'll never get a girlfriend, or that I didn't have any friends or that my report card always blowed or that I was gaining weight or that big ball of light in the sky. I was one of those kids that teachers would write on the report cards how much better I could be doing if I just "buckled down and flew straight", if I cared what they thought. They just didn't want to write anything negative on there anyway, can't have the parents think that little johnny is retarded or won't amount to anything higher than a janitor can we?(no, my real name is not johnny and I'm not a janitor)

    Then, to exhausted to think, I would crawl into bed and I wouldn't have to worry about anything until the next morning. Mornings were pretty rough.

    Then there was the time I thought I was gay, oh yes. You must understand, in high school I had one girl who actually let me call her my girlfriend, for a few hours. Then there was the other who I had for a school day before I broke it off(I'm pretty sure I broke that one off because I was scared). Then there was the other girl I had for three days, I broke that one off as well when I was told by somebody that they thought I was "cool" right up until they saw me with her. Peer pressue is a terrible thing.

    In hindsight, they were with me because they couldn't get anybody else, I was just as desperate or they took pity on me.

    So, that was all in one semster of grade 10 I think so since then I've had.....uh, none. Yah, I apparently disgust woman, last one I touched by accident in a grocery store gave me the most disgusted look a woman could over a accidental feel of a finger. Responses before that were about the same. I kinda gave up on them. So, after reading a fantasy novel in which the main characters are gay and share a timeless love for each other that most people only dream about. I somehow got it into my head that seeing as women around the world figured I was mud, I must be going after the wrong sex. Thanks to a friend I had at the time, who was very liberal, I discovered that I wasn't actually gay, I was just lonely. No, I did not even touch the other man she introduced me too. After that emotional mix-up, we've kind of lost touch. That little moment of weakness I would like to forget forever and ever and ever.

    After the school and gay thing, there was one other "thing" that defined a moment in my "adult" life. I attempted suicide. I was at the end of my rope, there couldn't be anything worse in my life than living one more day. I was a pussy though, not only did I not go through with it I also did not do it the right way. It was a cry for help, sure I've got a scar, but it's a little pussy scar, the kind you can get from cutting a bagel the wrong way and having the knife slip. I even went across the street as opposed to "down the road".

    So my mom saw it of course, I shoved it in her face actually. I wanted help, I needed help and it's not like you can just go up to your mom and say "Hey, ma! I was thinking of busting a cap in my ass, what you gonna do about it?" So, she called the doctor, anti-depressants were arranged, therapy was scheduled, I just kind of shrugged my shoulders and realized what an idiot I'd been and didn't take the pills. So the scar has almost gone away now, it won't disappear completly cause the cut was kinda deep but you almost can't see it. The therapy never happened and I went back to how I was before, kinda sad, but too apathetic to do anything about it.

    It was one of those "I recognize that I need help right now, and I want it but I'm sure not going to accept it" things.

    So anyway.

    I've always gotten the impression that other people have more fun when I'm not around. I can hear them laughing at jokes their telling to each other, or parts of their conversations that they've never had knowing I was near them. I've never been a focus for anybody, I've never been with the "in" group, I've never been with any "group".

    <continued on next post>
  2. notmyrealname

    notmyrealname Well-Known Member

    I've just hung back with the rest of the people who are alienated from the crowd. If I try to join a group of people I know, or, on those rare occasions, they invite me over I tend to hang back, listen to them without saying much and eventually someone walks in front of me and nobody says anything. Even when I am part of the discussion people will step in front of me and kick me out. So I know that most of the time, other people are better off when I'm not around.

    When I am part of the discussion it's usually because I'm being asked why I'm being so quiet. I just shrug and laugh it off. If a joke is told that I don't get, or I do get but I don't think it's funny, or if I don't even hear the joke, if other people are laughing I'll join in too just so I don't look like I don't want to be there.

    Awkward to the point of wondering why I ever agreed to it in the first place, and desperate to get out of there as quickly as possible.

    Sometimes I wonder if I intimidate some people, perhaps that's why they ignore me. I don't think I am. It's not like I have a strict exercise regiem, or really exercise at all. I can't really see how anybody could be intimidated by me, I've never been in a fight, I don't get mad, I don't get even. I just go home when escape is possible. And try to stay quiet about anybody saying anything bad about me. I try not to retaliate too. I've tried before, somebody would hit me or throw an insult and I thought it was a joke, so I'd retaliate in a joking manner and the next thing I know I'm either running away or blocking punches. I try not to say anything bad about anybody.

    And, as may be apparent. I've never had sex. Hell, I've never even kissed a girl. Those three “girlfriends" I mentioned above, we held hands, that was about it. But I've come to accept that, if I don't have a girlfriend by the time I'm forty I'll just kill myself. Yes, I could see myself not having any relations that way for the next 10+ years. I said the same thing when I was 20, though my age of acesension was 25, but I've past that age now and I have responsibilities preventing me from ending my life the way I want. Girls scare the living piss out of me, mabye because I've never been with one. I either think that I have to try and impress by making a joke or saying something deep and introspective. So, by not being able to interpret what I'm supposed to do in those situations I tend to get really quiet and say something stupid. Eventually they walk away and I don't have to deal with them anymore.

    Personally, I'm of the opinion that I'm invited out of pity. People talk to me because I'm there, and they don't have anybody else to say anything to. I've been in situations where the worst case scenario happens. Someone invites me out or a couple of guys do and then they don't show up where they say they will and I hear about how much fun they had that night doing whatever. They don't tell me how hard they were laughing at the thought that I showed up and nobody was around but I'm sure I was the topic of conversation. So, I've come to expect it. I don't ever belive that I'm going to have any fun where I go and I fully expect that something will happen that will allow me not to go.

    I realize that's a fucked up way of thinking and I don't want to think that way but I can't help it anymore, it's become habit after so many years and so many times I haven't expected it and it's happened. There have been times in the past where I agree to do whatever and I just turn around half way there and don't go. Then, they say they missed me and were waiting. But I just can't help thinking that they never expected me to show up in the first place.

    Now, some or all of you reading this are probably wondering what my problem is. You read this and think "I went through the same shit and I turned out all right, what the fuck is this bitch's problem?" Well, I've rambled quite a bit on this and gone down some avenues that may not make much sense. Some of you might read between the lines on this and realize what is going on. The kind of mentality and attitude that I have is not something that can ever be explained properly, because it doesn't matter how bad your life has been or how much more abuse you've been through, I believe that I feel worse about myself than you could possibly know, and there's no way for me to be convinced that you know what I'm going through. Not when I've cryed myself to sleep some nights thinking about how fucked up I am. And don't forget what I said near the top of all this. That story of me walking in the middle of the street was when I was about 5 or 6. I've had to deal with these bouts of severe depression since I was too young to be able to handle it, and everything that has happened in my life has not been a positive reinforcement for me to get out of that.

    I don't want to feel this way anymore. I want to be able to enjoy myself when I'm doing something with people, I want to be able to expect that I'm going to have fun. And I really hate believing that people talk to me cause they feel sorry for me. I've thought about anti-depressants, I've thought about using a razor blade next time. I've thought about just forcing myself to go somewhere and do something, but on the extremly few occasions I've tried that(and I'm talking mabye twice in the last 15 years) I end up going alone and not doing anything.

    I'm not goth, or emo. I'm not some punk from high-school who's girlfriend just broke up with me last week and I want to retaliate in some way.

    I'm 26 years old. I have a job and pull down a steady paycheque. If the mods or the community think that I really am just being whiny, go a head and lock this thread. Delete it if you want to. Ban me if you must.

    I'm not asking for all of you to suddenly be my best friend, you'd just be doing it out of pity anyway. I'm not asking for special treatment. Call me a bitch if you want, call me whatever you want.

    I just don't want to be going through this the rest of my life, I don't want to be forty years old, living alone and still a virgin. I want it to stop.

    I don't have the kind of friends that I could talk to about something like this. Obviously I have no girlfriend. I've put my mom through this kind of thing once already and I'd like to avoid letting her know about it unless absolutly necessary.

    (note: the following was written while I was drunk so please take it both as truth and with a grain of salt)

    I feel trapped. Always. The only reason why I do not kill myself now is my mother. Due to finances, neither of us would survive without the other so I stay alive because she would not survive without me. I have a small family, father, sister and mother. My father and sister are of small concern. My mother however is what is keeping me going right now. Without her I would probably have killed myself years ago. I want to die. Holy crap do I want to die. But I cannot until my mother is gone.

    I just don't know what to do. I have attempted suicide once already. It put my mother through hell I'm sure. She is a very caring women and would be devestated were I to commit suicide but I so fucking want to. I tried to hide everything about myself from her. I know what she expects in a son and I do everything she I can to fulfill the vision as much as possible. I helped her buy a house. She knows I smoke but I keep it out of her face as much as I can. I just....I just don't know what do to anymore,

    Before anybody says that I should speak with a doctor or a therapist I have to say that I refuse any and all such help(sounds pretty stupid eh?). When I tried to kill myself it was with a knife across the wrists. I have the scar to this day. I showed it to mother as I said above. I refuse to put her through that again. The problem is that I have to deal with this stupid crappy life I have until she passes on. I don't think I can do that. I don't know how to do that.

    Tonight, I took a box cutter to my arm. Lightly though, I'm amazed to see the scratches from so little pressure. But the pain....ah, the pain felt exquiste. I...christ. I don't have any outlets. What the hell do I do? I can't cut myself because it will eventually be found out. I can't kill myself, obviously. I'm trapped in every way someone could be trapped. Playing the good son, doing what normal people do is....is...., I don't know.

    I want this to end. I want everything to end. What's worse is that I think to myself that I might be doing this to get attention. I don't think that but I think it's a possibility which makes me feel even worse. I don't think I'm doing this for attention, but I can't be sure. I don't know how to interpret my own feelings. I do not know what emotion is, I guess. I don't really know if I'm falling in love with the idea of suicide because I don't know what it feels like to fall in love. I know only...only...I don't know.

    Mabye I'm missing some key component of the human physche. I can't interpret my own emotions properly. I know that writing out that I will commit suicide feels good. That I will kill myself. That I will do grevious bodily harm to my person. Writing those words...it just....it just feels good. But I can't die yet. Mabye in 40 years or so when mother dies. I don't think I can last that long, but I have to.

    I just don't know how I'm going to survive between then and now. Fuck. I'm on a tall building smoking a cigarette and I scream as loud as I can. A person approaches me and I don't know who they are. I only know that whoever it is is my savior. Someone who understands how I feel without words. The fantasy ends there.

    (note: I was going to remove the above as I figured it was drunken rambling but it's not. So I'm leaving it in and it can be taken as truth, if a bit obfuscated.)

    (The following is when I'm stone cold sober, lot less periods ;))

    Since accepting the aspect of my life that ends in death by my hand I've noticed something else. The way I see the world has changed. I'm more detached now.

    It's been said that the taking of a human life is the ultimate disconnect from humanity.
    That you will always be an outsider looking in.
    Would that the taking of your own life be the ultimate salvation.

    I wrote the above in my journal and it strikes a cord with me. I feel like I'm an outsider now. I look at other people and see them, but not as I used to. It is hard to describe, perhaps because now things don't mean as much as they used to. A person walking down the street is a person who has hopes, dreams, plans. I hope only for an end, dream only for my death and plan for when I can end my life.

    What I said earlier about how I can't tell if I am doing this for attention or not is true. I can't decide if my desire for suicide is being or has been caused by external or internal pressures. I have had problems with family that I didn't mention above. Which contributed to how I feel today, I think. It's all very confusing. And trying to answer the following question makes me feel even worse. Am I suicidal for revenge or for myself?
  3. Carcinogen

    Carcinogen Well-Known Member

    First of all, welcome to SF. It took a lot of courage to post that. Personally I don't feel you're being whiny, or an attention seeker. It's not about the gravity of your problems in relation to other peoples', but how bad it is for you, and if it's causing you to feel suicidal, then clearly it's something that needs addressing.
    I'm afraid I don't have any good advice for you. I tend to avoid people so I'm not the best person to ask about anything social. I'm sure other people here will be able to offer better advice than I can on this.
    All I can really say is, hang on, and keep posting here. Hopefully you'll find the support and friendship you need here :smile:
  4. nfe

    nfe Member

    I simply don't know what I should reply with. As much as I want you to not make it all end when you're 40, I want you to do what's best for yourself (In my opinion suicide wouldn't be good for you, but you've got your own opinion about that, so that could be whatever you think). I think you should start socializing a lot more. I know from myself that it can actually be hard, however, if you don't want to end up as a 40year old virgin (which isn't really the biggest problem you can have), you better start partying. Good luck is probably the best I can say.. If you need to talk, please PM me