Cards on the Table

Discussion in 'Suicidal Thoughts and Feelings' started by CM33, May 7, 2010.

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  1. CM33

    CM33 New Member

    First off, I should say that I’m a writer, so it’s likely that this “rant” will go on for a while…
    To put it plainly, I think what I’m looking for is guidance. The question I have to ask is simply, “What would you do if you were me?”
    I am thirty-three years old, and I live in Canton, Ohio. I am a single gay male, white, Caucasian, fairly good-looking, college-educated, and with indisputable talents and aptitudes, the main one being writing, natch. I have a job (which I hate, but we’ll get more into that later), a good deal of money in the bank, a nice apartment, and at least a couple of good friends.
    For the past fifteen years, I’ve dealt with depression which has waxed and waned according to my circumstances. I have contemplated suicide umpteen thousand times, and even put a plan together as to how I would go about it. My current one is to take all of my antidepressant medication at once, washed down with a good mixed drink.
    I have, obviously, tried drug therapy, and I have had seven different therapists over the years. Only the last one has done me any real good. I haven’t seen her in nearly a year, and I don’t really want to, anymore. I feel that she did all she could for me, but she can’t change the world, and she can’t fix life so that it’s comfortable for me. That’s what I want.
    You see, I hate life. I hate the rules we have to follow. I hate the necessity of working forty-plus hours a week at a job which is barely tolerable at best and excruciating at worst. I have sought other jobs, but I have no connections to follow, and in today’s job market, those are what matter, more than ever before. What I really want to do is to be free and independent, able to do whatever I choose, when I choose. I admit that I am lazy by nature. It runs in the family. My dad never worked half the time, and I think, looking back now, that it wasn’t because he couldn’t find a job; he just didn’t want to work badly enough. Like father, like son. I do have one ambition—to become a published writer. But anyone who knows anything will tell you that attempting it is like pissing in the wind and hoping none of it comes back to splatter you.
    All of my life, beginning with my early years as an only child, I have felt different, cut off, excluded, outside, unnecessary. It isn’t (usually) that people are mean or offensive to me. They simply don’t take to me. When I am in a social situation, I don’t know how to contribute. And other people pretty much ignore me, whether I am at work, in a store, the mall, a restaurant…it’s as though I’m invisible, or as though there’s a force field around me that prevents others from attempting interaction. And yes, I have tried reaching out…I did it a lot when I was young, but it just never got me anywhere. As I said, people don’t generally take to me. I am shy and introverted, and I know now that the exuberant, handsome, self-assured and charismatic man that I’d always hoped and prayed I would morph into, isn’t going to show up. Ever. I have stopped reaching out. I don’t send emails or make phone calls. My feeling is that people can come to me if they want to talk to me. They know where I am. Needless to say, that doesn’t happen. My phone doesn’t ring anymore. Even on Facebook, when I post a comment or my status, no one usually has anything to say to it. It kills me when I look at the things my Facebook friends post, because they’re no deeper or funnier than what I say…and yet they’ve got five, ten comments apiece on theirs.
    I look at the world and, as Jessie says in the play ‘Night, Mother, I see one thing: Not Fair. And as with her, I don’t have the fighting spirit to go out there and change things, even for myself, or at the very least, get even. All my life, I’ve felt no particular drive or ambition to do anything. Again, I am lazy, and I can’t help it.
    I was emotionally/verbally abused a lot as a child by my mother, especially. She was a very domineering, overpowering parent, and I don’t know how much that might account for what I am today. I guess it doesn’t matter…I can’t blame her anymore, anyway.
    I’ve battled with my inner nature ever since puberty. I don’t particularly like being gay, but it’s another thing I can’t help. I’ve come to look upon it as a weakness, a vulnerability. I don’t see how anyone could look at it as a gift. I had shame instilled in me first by the kids I went to school with—I wasn’t out back then, but they knew…oh, they knew—then by my parents when they found out, and then by the church which I was forced to attend until I was nineteen and stopped going. To this day, I have no use for organized religion and I have failed at all my attempts to develop a spiritual life. I don’t understand God, and I no longer want to. I even attempted to live according to Existentialist practice a few years ago, but that didn’t work, either. Those practices are founded upon being positive. I have nothing in me anymore but bitterness, negativity, and repressed rage. I suffer from physical pain as well as emotional…these pent-up emotions and urges have congealed into a lump in my stomach which is always there, and my neck and shoulders are always tense and aching. I developed a habit of cracking my neck to relieve this, and a year and a half ago, I had to have surgery to replace three ruptured disks.
    I think the greatest pain of my life is that I have never been able to find a romantic partner who lasted. I’ve had a few brief relationships…but never have even come close to finding anyone who was truly mine. And in the state I’m in now, who would want me?
    I feel as though there are roadblocks at every single avenue I try to pursue…vocational success…love…social acceptance…even just getting laid once in a while.
    I’ve wondered if the recent change in the dosage of my medication could be to blame for my present state of mind. I was on three hundred milligrams of Effexor for two and a half years, and not long ago, my doctor and I mutually decided to try cutting back to two hundred and twenty five milligrams. That was about two months ago.
    And so, once more, perhaps more seriously than ever before, I am contemplating suicide. I am thirty-three years old, and the most success I have to leave behind me is the review of a graphic novel I wrote once—which hasn’t been published yet and very possibly might not be a good review—and a play which a local community theatre has finally agreed to produce, after only about five years of going back and forth with them.
    Again…I don’t know what compelled me to write this. I think maybe it was partly venting, and partly looking for a connection with others who suffer as I have, and am. I would seek out birds of a feather to talk to in person, but there aren’t any. If you can find a single thoughtful, introspective, deep, intelligent person with a touch of class within a hundred-mile radius of Canton, Ohio, you’re doing a lot better than I can. I’ve joined online writers’ communities, and never made any connections…I couldn’t even get my own work read or critiqued. I have been doing college/community theatre for nearly half my life, and even as I’ve grown more lonely and disconnected, I’ve found less and less people with whom I feel I really belong among the casts of these shows. I did three plays in the last year alone, and during all of them, I found not one person with whom there was potential for a relationship, or even a meaningful friendship. Not one.
    So, I really don’t know what to do with myself anymore…with the exception of one thing.
  2. Ozibuna

    Ozibuna Well-Known Member

    Fear not friend, all is for the best, as change always comes. I'm sorry i can't give a better answer right not, because i only have 3 hours worth of sleep, but i'll get back with an answer as soon as i can think straight :)
  3. Seems_Perfect

    Seems_Perfect Well-Known Member

    Perhaps it is the medication, but I really hope you don't end your journey. As an aspiring writer myself I know the frustrations that come from it. I also know that I'M HAPPY FOR YOU AND REALLY PROUD OF YOU for getting your work out there! Congratulations on the upcoming theater performance!! You've already done soooo much more than others who also have the dream of being a writer. For starters, you have taken your dream and turned it into a goal b/c you're actually working towards that you desire to have. I think that's fantastic so please hang in there.

    Edit: By the way, unfortunately, people all over seem to be similar to those in your part of OH. The good news is that there are those of substance, but they may be shy and reserved as well. Really wishing you the best.
    Last edited by a moderator: May 9, 2010
  4. bono

    bono Well-Known Member

    Your rant sounds awfully narsistic. In which case it would be your parents and society in generals fault. But realizing that life isn't about the journey not competing to justifiy that your life is worthy of life is the 1st step. So take a slice of humble pie, and go out and meet someone for no other reason than to enjoy there company. Its will be hard because you will need to rewire you brains reward system to find relationships enjoyable again.
  5. CM33

    CM33 New Member

    I couldn't help but feel a bit angered by your response, Bono. I am aware that life isn't "all about me", but as far as my perceptions...I can't be wrong all of the time, can I?

    Why should I bother trying to build relationships/friendships with people with whom there simply is no attraction of any kind?

    And remember, I didn't just start feeling this way overnight. Literally half my life has been spent dealing with these type of thoughts and feelings. So there's a problem...and I came here to find some possible guidance...and one thing I don't need is to be told that I'm simply narcissistic.
  6. left

    left New Member

    Well CM, I came in here to rant too, and I did, so now i'm struck by the sheer numbers of lonely and miserable suicidal peoples here. Who can know over and internet chat/forum what is "wrong" with you such that you are not connecting. But I don't think that is the point. I'm 55, you want some old age wisdom I can give you what I've learned. Well first of all, life and jobs and all those things you are describing is a numbers game. There are literally millions and millions of people and out of them there must be a few thousand who would find you attractive or be available to have a relationship. The old saying is "Many fishes in the sea". Of those millions there are a few thousand of them that are around you and are *broken* like you are. So fear not.

    Forget about all that past abusive stuff, certainly it plays a part into who you are but your brain chemistry is more important than that. I say that because you got worse over 2 months on change of meds and that is clearly more of what it is than the prior life story. You will have the story even when you are 50 and it will just be more manageable, or not, and it just is what it is. You can only change how you decide to tell that story and what you decide because of that story. But you can decide either way right? I say this from pain believe me, I don't mean to sound trite, okay I have a story too and some of it is not very pleasant and would make a good Oprah story. But I can not change any of it unless i just want to be a bitter old person about it (which I am).

    I look at my facebook and I think the same thing. Why doesn't anyone care. Why don't they love me like that. and then I go flitting around posting notes on their walls to get attention. Sometimes I post news story links and sometimes people say something, and I silently smile. I finally got someone to see me there. but I presume it's because they actually have a life and I'm isolated. What about you?

    Life is hard, you can live in the country easier without all the stress and find a house for like $500 a month instead of $1500 in the city. You can work on a computer and it's isolating, but you won't have to play by the rules. If you really want to see it as half full, the world is your oyster! Damnit, at 33 years old you can strut your stuff and go out and go to bars and college and stuff like that. Try doing that with arthritis at 55 when you are sagging and fat and old and need a facelift.

    You might have some inner voice telling you that you have to play by the rules but at your age you can break free and take a trip to France and sit in a bar all day long drinking coffee if you want. Who says that you have to live the miserable life you're living? If you are saying it to yourself then maybe you can get more in alignment with your true wishes. I have a friend who works and is published and she just plods away. That too is a numbers game. Surely if you write enough stuff one of them will fly off the paper and hit someone in the face and it will be published. Rome wasn't built in a day.

    I hear the part about isolation and I have it too. I feel I have many more excuses for it than you do, but who knows. I feel more that you are mad at everyone and punishing them, but it is only punishing yourself. Your bitterness will only become greater as time goes on. and by the way, I just took some anti anxiety meds and that melted some of it. I don't know if you thought of that with your therapist. Finally another thought is to connect with a support group of some kind. Like a gay support group, or a writers support group or something. These kinds of things have a tendancy to help me anyway, maybe it's a thought for you.

    I know that if you are in the state of suicidal thoughts these might sound trite, but keep them around in case you get out of this mood and take some steps to make subtle changes in your life and the suicidal thoughts might not come as often (like I know :))

    Hope something in this helps.
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