For posterity.
I dunno where else to put these thoughts other than I know I'm supposed to put them out there. Nobody I want to talk to is around right now to listen to my self loathing, and even if they were, I doubt they would care. They're probably fed up of it by now. These past couple of weeks have been some of the most turbulent emotional days of my life, and it's almost entirely internally created. I am completely drained of any positive thought or energy, any meaningful desire to creatively work around my problems has been eroded by a tide of habitual negativity that originally stemmed from an honest frustration at a lack of personal progression and improvement, that has now morphed itself into a self-belittling, irritative and downbeat attitude.
I am, honestly, nothing. I'm living my life like I'm just waiting to get old and die. I wake up, lie around, do some stupid bullshit on the computer, and then just sit around not doing anything. Not even thinking most of the time. I've always said that I have never considered suicide, and that is still true. I'm far too much of a coward to even think about how I would do it, and the idea that I might upset someone because of it still affects me somehow. I don't physically self-harm, either, yet in a sense I know that I am harming myself mentally. I beat myself up about the stupidest, most trivial issues. Drop something on the floor? You're a fucking idiot. You can't even hold onto something. Pick it up, you shit. I bully myself into staying up late even though I have little to do, and so I end up in bed at 1-3AM, doing almost nothing until I fall asleep at which point I'll have a dream that almost always involves me dying or being put in ludicrously precarious positions. When I get up, I feel little compulsion to do even the tiniest preparational things, even brushing my teeth or washing is a chore I conveniently forget to do simply because it requires the notion of self-improvement.
I've tried talking to people about my problems. I'm in CBT for my anxiety. I've even attended most of my appointments. My therapist said I was doing well. I didn't go this week, and I probably won't next. I can't talk to my family about it, partly because of logistical problems, but also because I know they don't care. They're aware of some parts of my life, of course, and my mum is perhaps the one person who would listen - but they don't want to truly support me. I'm a lost cause to them. I'm a lost cause to myself. I don't have friends, and those who would call themselves such have their own problems, and yet again I'm a burden upon them. Nobody would want to rely on me for anything, how can they when they know me like this? When they ask for my opinion on their own problems, I spend any emotional energy I have left on them, because I want to help them, but I can't even help myself. My mum is getting through her own depression quite well, and at one point that made me happy. Now? Nope. I can say it's great, because it is, but that's not how I truly feel. When she's all better she'll stop needing my help. Just like everyone, it feels like people who talk to me about these things are just along for the ride and will be gone when it's over. However it ends.
All of this is just aside from my agoraphobia. I haven't left the house much for a while because of it. But right now that's not even what's gnawing at me, it's the funk, the depression I'm in. I just can't, and won't, be accepted by people. I can't make myself be accepted, and nobody would want to anyway.
Summers are the worst time of the year for me. For a start, I'll be 23 in a few weeks and it's another reminder of just how aimless and pointless my life has become. There won't be any birthday parties or celebrations, it'll probably just be me in my house with my stupid, annoying, retarded cat. As I age, I'm also starting to become very aware of my own mortality and it frightens me, but it's a total, all-encompassing fear that locks my life up and throws away the key. I'm scared that one day I will wake up and my life will be all but over, but I'm too paralyzed to do anything about it. Too scared to go out. Too scared to want to get better. It's been suggested I should take meds, but I don't want to do that for reasons I can't even properly explain or that I'm not even sure of myself. In addition I hate the summers because of how active the rest of the world appears to be. I want nothing other than to hibernate and wait for a time when everybody else is less energetic, so that somehow I can keep more in tune with them. Being outside in the sun makes my anxiety worse. People can see me easily. Loose clothing makes me feel unprotected and isolated. Bring on the winter when I can wear a hat and a scarf to cover myself up from the world.
No doubt someone somewhere will congratulate me for making public my thoughts, and that getting it out to other people helps, but no. I don't take any pride in it today. Maybe I will another day, but not now. I haven't articulated half of what I truly feel, out of fear that I might realise even more about myself that I want to, or because I might offend someone or hurt the one or two people I actually care about. In addition, I'm being torn up about internal feelings that have been bubbling underneath the surface of me for a long while. Things I am too afraid to say to anyone because of scared I am of their reactions. I lack the descriptive skills needed to really push my thoughts out there, so this is probably a rambling mess of a post.
I'm lost, I'm alone, and worst of all I'm just giving up and accepting it. Down inside I know that's not me, but I'm being overtaken by this swarm of self-resentment and pity.
Lastly, it looks to this lurker as though there's been a lot less traffic since moving to Community side. It really saddens me to see that.
