Maybe I’m Keeping Myself Miserable

It’s funny how depression can give you a penchant for self-destruction. You feel miserable, so you do things that you know will make you more miserable (or you choose not to do things even though that will make you feel more like a failure). You feel like maybe you don’t deserve to be fixed, really, or like there’s no point in trying to be happier if you’ll never really achieve it.

One of the things I beat myself up the most over is how I have a hard time sticking to long-term things. I’m in my 4th attempt at community college and once again I’m having a hard time making it through a single semester. I hate that I quit or fail so often at school, work, and life in general, but I can’t tell you how many days I’ve woken up and decided to skip class or how many days I’ve gone to campus with my ride but skipped most of my classes anyway. I have a counselor here at school who’s working with me on my depression, and sometimes I skip appointments to stay home and do nothing. I know this just reinforces bad habits and makes me feel worse, but I don’t feel guilty enough to change.

I started off this semester with high hopes and lots of determination. I’m hanging on a little tighter than I ever have before, but it still looks like I’m probably going to fail at least one or two of my classes and if that happens I’m going to lose my financial aid eligibility. If THAT happens I may as well give up because I can’t afford to pay for my own schooling and nobody is going to give me a student loan with my credit history. Basically I’m just in yet another mess of my own making and honestly I don’t feel angry at myself anymore. I’m just sad and tired. I guess I could blame it on Josh, for being a total idiot, but honestly it’s not his fault if I don’t know how to handle disappointment and frustration. That’s an issue I guess we’re supposed to be exploring in my counseling sessions. The amount of power I give to other people over my emotions. And honestly that’s a slippery concept for me personally; in theory I get the gist of what I’m looking for but in practice it’s like a giant blind spot. I can’t imagine thinking or feeling a different way than I do about the kinds of things I’m supposed to be looking at more critically. I can’t quite see where I’m going wrong, what attitude I have that’s causing the problematic behavior. Normally I can kind of see what I need to change, generally speaking, even if I’m not sure how. But in this, I’m clueless. It’s uncomfortable for me because I’m used to at least be able to detect the surface of a problem I have. It feels like trying to describe the shape of a negative space, a nothing spot. I know it’s there, but I have to just feel around trying to touch it so I can start to gather information.

I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t know what to do. I know what I should do, I know what would be good to do, but I don’t know if I want to do any of it. I feel like I’m at a bit of a crossroads and I’m not sure if I’m going to keep going the way I’ve always gone, or if I’m going to honestly take a new path. It’s so tempting to just fall back on comfortable, familiar habits. Even if I know they hurt me. Maybe I just don’t want to be happy because then I won’t have an excuse not to do stuff anymore. Maybe I like having a reason to hide and fail and just scrape by. I can blame it on depression and not feel like I’m just being lazy. But maybe I really am being lazy. I don’t know.


The World is Not Fair and Some of Us Will Never Stop Drowning In It

Why isn’t the world set up to include people who don’t live with both feet on the ground? Why does society worship busyness and the kind of industry you can put a price on but doesn’t value the kind of intangible work that goes into forming relationships and lifting others up? Philosophers, great thinkers, they’re only recognized when they accomplish something that fits in the description of “successful.” How many people die unrecognized but are later given credit for how great they were? And how many more die and are never thought of as anything more than just another person?

When I’m depressed, I don’t care about things like money or respect from peers. I care about meaning, about my soul connecting with another soul and feeling known and loved. I care because that’s what I feel like I’m missing and if I don’t have that connection, life itself is meaningless. It’s pointless. Paying my bills, spending hours of my life doing work that doesn’t matter for the sake of feeding my body: it’s tedious and there’s no point to it. Why should I work so hard to live when my life has no purpose?

But when I’m depressed and can only focus on the loneliness and the pointlessness of it all, time still passes. I still lose my job, I still run out of money, and I still have people telling me I’m disappointing or lazy or worthless, and offering me advice that simply boils down to “stop caring about anything but our definition of success.” Life moves on and there’s no pause button. If I’m in a really dark place, there are services I can utilize to get me through the worst and keep me breathing of my own free will. But people on the outside are still living their lives and business is business. I’m not profiting anyone at a restaurant or retail store by not being there. I’m not spending money as a customer and I’m not helping with day to day operations as an employee either. I’m not there, so I’m useless.

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that, because it’s true that hanging onto deadweight is usually a waste of money in the business world. It takes something more personal and insightful to see a person as a good investment even if they’re not dependable on a daily basis and even if they’re just a name on the payroll list that isn’t doing anything most of the time. I get it–there’s no compelling reason to coddle anyone like that.

It’s hard, though, to battle with a constant doubt that life is even worth living while also consistently providing for that life. There are ways to do it, but not everyone is able to make it happen. Not everyone has a gift strong enough to monetize on an irregular basis and still live on that income. Not everyone has the willpower to create a skill like that. I can only imagine how many people are just existing, and only barely. How many people bounce from job to job or just stay unemployed because they just can’t muster the energy to care?

And all these thoughts lead me to an anger and a despair. Because it’s not fair. It’s not fair that some people are just born disadvantaged on every side because they’re not so disabled that they live their whole lives being supported by someone else, but they’re also not functional enough to really be swimming or staying afloat. They’re not immediately drowning so no one bothers to pick them up out of the water or even throw them a flotation device. People look on as you go under, come back up, go under, come back up…. and they wonder why you don’t just swim better? Just try, and you’ll be fine.

But you ARE trying. You’re swimming the best you can but you get tired so quickly staying above water and when you slip under you have to fight for the motivation just to decide to head back up. The call of the deep, of surrender, is always there. Every single time you go under, you have to make the choice all over again. 

And the world really just doesn’t seem to know how to handle that. It’s up to individuals to reach out a hand and grab hold instead of just watching in confusion. It’s up to a spouse to accept their partner’s limitations and choose to provide a little extra support than maybe they imagined in the beginning. It’s up to the individual to decide such a person is worth saving because society clearly doesn’t see it that way. There are suicide hotlines and most people don’t want someone to actually die but when you’ve saved someone’s life, where’s the preventive help to keep it from happening again? They just get to be in the same place again and the only time they really matter to the community is when their life is in peril. Because look at the potential value we might lose! But on a day-to-day basis they’re not actually providing much concrete value so we’re not too concerned with their welfare.

It all just sucks. If you’re a great friend but can’t hold a job, you’re useless as well as screwed. If you don’t know for sure you want to be alive, life just goes on throwing obstacles at you and giving you reasons to decide not to keep going because being alive is so exhausting. If you can’t put in your 35 hours on the job you’re a failure. And staying in that place of constantly fighting for breath with no permanent relief, is miserable. No one deserves to live that way. Yet the number of people who do is unfathomable. 

Longing (Original Poem)

In the crush of swift lonelinessMy thoughts tumble about

Tossed with the winds of longing

Desperation lending sharp strength

To the scrabbling fingers
Not alone, but lonely

Empty smiles and meaningless exchanges

Friendly but never friends

How, how can we

Appear to touch each other

Without truly coming close?
Oh guilt, at the pain of longing

How can I be right

To want more than I have?

Yet I feel not that I want more

But that something is missing
Missing pieces from my life


In all the wrong places

Or just not having the eyes

To see.

What Comes Out of My Brain at 1 AM

I’m supposed to write every day if I want to be a writer and be successful but like, every time I sit down to write I get tired, I get lethargic, I get depressed. Like flipping a switch on my eyelids and thought process that makes it impossible to ever be creative. It really sucks, because how can I ever succeed if I am broken like this? My brain is broken, my creativity is broken, it’s all broken and I’m so screwed and I’m never going to do anything meaningful in this life because I’m always too damn tired for it. Hooray.

I used to be so creative but now I’m not, now all I can do is think about how tired I am, how stressed I am, how much failure I’ve experienced in my life, and how pointless I am. Even when I have ideas I can’t move them from where they start to where they need to be to come out onto the page. It’s like there’s something there blocking me and I don’t know how to get rid of it.

I wish I was a better person than I am. I wish I had more motivation than I do. I wish I had skill or enough willpower to develop it. I wish my life wasn’t so intent on knocking me down because the energy I use getting back up should be going toward things like creating, growing, becoming someone worth being. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be that person because it’s hard enough just getting out of bed most of the time. How am I supposed to be someone worth knowing if I can’t even be someone worth being?

I do prefer the sleep reaction to stress over the anxiety reaction; when my ex dumped me I dealt with massive amounts of anxiety and it was hell for me and my emotions. I’m used to just wanting to sleep, to my eyelids getting heavy and my brain going numb. Not the painful nausea that kept me from eating, the incessant worrying, the inability to stop talking about the things that I was forced to obsess over, or the restless sleep that wasn’t helpful at all. This is better. I’d rather sleep my life away than worry it away. Sometimes I process things in my dreams, too, which helps me when I wake up. I’m not sure if I can control it and I can’t tell when I actually am better off sleeping and when it’s just plain running away.

I’ve been thinking lately I’m probably gonna be single the rest of my life. Probably not gonna find someone who wants to put up with me, who thinks I’m great enough to be worth any sort of effort. I thought maybe Alex would be someone who could appreciate me but apparently not, apparently I’m not as great as he thought. It’s been very discouraging to watch someone lose interest and start distancing himself the more he gets to know me. Like I’m a crappy person. I don’t know why people think that or treat me like that, because I try really hard and I thought intentions mattered. You’re more likely to end up happier with someone who is constantly trying to improve, right? But people want results now apparently and since I don’t know when I’ll be able to offer them, nobody is interested in waiting around. It kind of stinks to know I make people laugh and smile and that I’m fun to talk to, but I’m not worth actually putting any sort of effort into. It’s like I’m just the TV. You wouldn’t date your TV. You keep it around because it entertains you but you don’t take it to bed with you at night, you don’t open up to it, and if it’s not working great you just get a new one. I hope someday I’m not an appliance, a piece of furniture, an electrical device, someday. Maybe someone will see me as a person and someone to love, someday. But I’m not really counting on it anymore. I’ll have to fight to be recognized that way and I really just don’t have the energy to try and prove I’m more than just a piece of entertainment. So, no partners. Too much effort for such an unreliable outcome. Well, honestly, it’s fairly reliable I’ll end up being rejected, since that’s the history so far. So, too much effort for a very unlikely outcome. I’m usually just wasting my time. Trying to convince people I’m worth theirs.

I don’t know if I have anything else to say. I guess this is writing. The only things I can write about anymore. Maybe the only things I’ll ever be able to write about again. I think I may be broken for the rest of my life, and I think none of my dreams are going to come true. I may have to find new dreams.

It Doesn’t Matter What Kind It Is…

Depression sucks. 

Planning to visit family for a holiday but being unable to stand up, much less drive anywhere. Having to apologize and feeling guilty but not being able to change it.

Knowing what you want your life to look like, but never having the energy to make it happen. Not truly believing it’s even possible. Hating your existence but feeling stuck.

Feeling like nothing in the world is real and that if you just sleep long enough the nightmare will pass. Being unable to acknowledge reality because it’s too big and painful.

Laying in bed crying for no reason. Loved ones feeling helpless and starting to hate themselves and resent you for not getting better. Days blending together in a blur of darkness.

Sobbing as you hold a pile of pills in your hand, unsure of your decision but unable to bear the pain, the overwhelming torture of existence. The guilt, the self-loathing, the despair, the utter loneliness.

Hiding away from your friends. Your family. Everyone. Feeling numb. Just staring at the ceiling blankly.

So much pain in the world. 

I’ve Got a Busted Heart

Honest thoughts, not happy:
My head knows it’s not true, but my heart feels like a failure.

I am so close to giving up on my dream of marriage and a family because I just don’t see it happening anymore. 

I love more than I am loved. This is always the case. And I rarely even get chances to find out if that might change.
I am so discouraged by the pattern of not being good enough to even be given a fair chance.

I don’t know why I try, anymore. Or why I should try.
I am very much defeated right now.

Too Tired

I guess that’s how I know I’m really depressed. I have a blog post I want to write for another blog but as soon as I open WordPress, my shoulders slump and I just feel like it’s an insurmountable task. Why bother? Writing is too much effort. It’s not even that I have nothing to say, I just don’t have the energy to say it.

There are things I enjoy doing but right now I’m just too tired. I’m reading a really good book and I had to stop for the day because I just…couldn’t care anymore. I want to go to sleep but I’m almost too tired to actually dedicate myself to doing that.

I’m too tired to care that this post is stilted and ugly. I love words but right now it’s about just doing something. Because right now I guess I CAN do something and if I don’t do it now, I never will. Because the fog will descend and I’ll be left despondent and tired again.

I have hope for my future, and I know this struggle I’m in will pass. But, I’m just too tired to see it all the time. I’m just so exhausted. I long for peace and rest. Maybe someday I’ll have it.