Sometimes it seems like a creative spirit and a melodramatic temperament go together. I'd rather be a Frida Kahlo, who became an amazing artist in a full-body cast and proceeded to dance and climb and have numerous love affairs despite the permanence of her physical injury in a street car, than a Vincent van Gogh, who frantically tried to capture the beauty he saw around him only to dispair due to his feelings about painting exceeding his (however brilliant) artistic skills.
My name is Amee. I'm only 24, but I've been diagnosed with clinical depression since I was 8 years old -- and I was Trouble before then. I went to the hospital in my mid teens due to "suicidal ideation," and I've gone between better and worse ever since.
I don't actually want to die right now, but I don't feel particularly "alive." And that lack of enjoyment, passion, is destroying my relationships. Which doesn't help.
It's hard to love someone who refuses to be joyful about anything.
I once told a friend of mine, who's just as self-defeating as I am, that he was standing in the middle of a beautiful garden, staring intently into a mud puddle. He needed to look up, adjust his eyes, take a few steps. By gods, there's UNICORNS out there. But all he wanted to look at was a mud puddle.
That's been my whole life. Sometimes I glance up, gasp, take a few steps, and a unicorn runs past in the unpredictable fashion of fantasy creatures. Knocks me over. Into the mud puddle.
I don't know how to get past it. I know there are a lot of things that I can do with my time, ("Mehh, dunwanna, I'd get cold / wet / bored / tired / I'd fail at it ..."), so many interesting things to see, (But it seems like even my sense of VISION is affected by my depression. I think I stopped bothering to FOCUS.), so many amazing people to meet (Who, btw, would realise that I'm a tiresome, high-maintenence creature, dumb as a sack of bricks, and irrational, to boot) ...
And some part of me thinks I'm fucking AWESOME. I rock at everything, I'm the best friend evar, I'm smart, I'm skilled, I'm fun. But I don't have the energy to be me. So I'm going to be some rare breed of sloth, instead. Staring into a mud puddle.
So I don't really know why I'm alive if I'm not going to LIVE that time. I don't feel like taking the effort to do any physical self harm: I subject myself to purely emotional abuse.
I tell the people I'm close to how I feel, and they don't understand. They say I'm being irrational and making excuses for my behaviour. I get worried that they're right, that I could fix it. I know what I'm doing. I'm faking.
Or maybe not ... maybe I'm insane, not making sense. Maybe only a professional could help me. What if they can't? They can't cure paedophiles.
What if it's not really an illness, but I can't change it? What if it really is the way I am? Who I am, what I am? You can't simply change your personality. And why should such a loathsome creature even exist?
So I'm here to see if anyone identifies. If anyone understands. Do I make any sense outside of my own mind?
--A :blink:
Hello, hello, hello Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me. Is there anyone at home?
Come on, come on down, I hear you’re feeling down.
Well I can ease your pain, Get you on your feet again.
Relax, relax, relax I need some information first.
Just the basic facts. Can you show me where it hurts?
There is no pain, you are receding. A distant ship's smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves. Your lips move, but I can’t hear what you’re saying.
When I was a child, I had a fever. My hands felt just like two balloons.
Now I’ve got that feeling once again. I can’t explain, you would not understand.
This is not how I am.
I ... have become comfortably numb.
((Pink Floyd -- "Comfortably Numb"))
My name is Amee. I'm only 24, but I've been diagnosed with clinical depression since I was 8 years old -- and I was Trouble before then. I went to the hospital in my mid teens due to "suicidal ideation," and I've gone between better and worse ever since.
I don't actually want to die right now, but I don't feel particularly "alive." And that lack of enjoyment, passion, is destroying my relationships. Which doesn't help.
It's hard to love someone who refuses to be joyful about anything.
I once told a friend of mine, who's just as self-defeating as I am, that he was standing in the middle of a beautiful garden, staring intently into a mud puddle. He needed to look up, adjust his eyes, take a few steps. By gods, there's UNICORNS out there. But all he wanted to look at was a mud puddle.
That's been my whole life. Sometimes I glance up, gasp, take a few steps, and a unicorn runs past in the unpredictable fashion of fantasy creatures. Knocks me over. Into the mud puddle.
I don't know how to get past it. I know there are a lot of things that I can do with my time, ("Mehh, dunwanna, I'd get cold / wet / bored / tired / I'd fail at it ..."), so many interesting things to see, (But it seems like even my sense of VISION is affected by my depression. I think I stopped bothering to FOCUS.), so many amazing people to meet (Who, btw, would realise that I'm a tiresome, high-maintenence creature, dumb as a sack of bricks, and irrational, to boot) ...
And some part of me thinks I'm fucking AWESOME. I rock at everything, I'm the best friend evar, I'm smart, I'm skilled, I'm fun. But I don't have the energy to be me. So I'm going to be some rare breed of sloth, instead. Staring into a mud puddle.
So I don't really know why I'm alive if I'm not going to LIVE that time. I don't feel like taking the effort to do any physical self harm: I subject myself to purely emotional abuse.
I tell the people I'm close to how I feel, and they don't understand. They say I'm being irrational and making excuses for my behaviour. I get worried that they're right, that I could fix it. I know what I'm doing. I'm faking.
Or maybe not ... maybe I'm insane, not making sense. Maybe only a professional could help me. What if they can't? They can't cure paedophiles.
What if it's not really an illness, but I can't change it? What if it really is the way I am? Who I am, what I am? You can't simply change your personality. And why should such a loathsome creature even exist?
So I'm here to see if anyone identifies. If anyone understands. Do I make any sense outside of my own mind?
--A :blink:
Hello, hello, hello Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me. Is there anyone at home?
Come on, come on down, I hear you’re feeling down.
Well I can ease your pain, Get you on your feet again.
Relax, relax, relax I need some information first.
Just the basic facts. Can you show me where it hurts?
There is no pain, you are receding. A distant ship's smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves. Your lips move, but I can’t hear what you’re saying.
When I was a child, I had a fever. My hands felt just like two balloons.
Now I’ve got that feeling once again. I can’t explain, you would not understand.
This is not how I am.
I ... have become comfortably numb.
((Pink Floyd -- "Comfortably Numb"))