Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Pathetic
There are times when I wish I was not conscious. There are times when I wish I would never be conscious again. Instead, I dig a frozen cigarette out of the freezer and kill myself slowly. I know I am pathetic. I own that. I tell myself often, out loud, sometimes in public places when nobody can hear me. I call myself terrible names. It starts in the shower and doesn't stop until I get into bed, exhausted and unable to think anymore. I tell myself that everyone hates me, and they are right to hate me. I'm unlovable and unworthy of any kind of time or attention. That's the reason I'm alone. I deserve to be alone. So I will be alone. If not by choice, then by half-hearted intention. I am pathetic and I hate myself.
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5 comments:
Noooo!!! You can't let yourself sink into this cycle! I know, I do it myself. I'm digging my way out. I also do the cigarette thing. I'm also working on stopping that! *hugs*
Ah dear. I found your blog a few weeks ago off This Fish and read through most of it. I was hesitating to say what I want to say because a post like this hadn't surfaced in a while, but here it goes.
Have you thought about talking to a therapist?
Two years ago I was in a position of being single, having a good job, feeling generally happy in my life but then falling into pits of despair every now and then (most likely when a guy wouldn't return my call, or sometimes even my text) - making up these elaborate stories about how 'guys only like me when they see me, but when they get to know me, they change their minds' and 'I am only interesting as the other woman'. I would spiral out of control into this pit, almost comforted by my self-hatred and tears.
It does NOT have to be like that. The self-loathing, the pity, the feeling of giving up. Those are things therapists call "neuroses", spiritual seekers call "ego" or "personality" - they distract you from your true self, which is self-loving, and calm, and worthy of all the love in the world.
The trick is finding a way to get out from under all that stuff and disable its power over the 'real' you, which is in there somewhere. After a panic attack one night because my boyfriend didn't text me back, a friend recommended her therapist to me and my whole world has changed since then (April 2007). I was resistant at first, saying "I'm not crazy!" or "I'm not depressed!", not seeing how debilitating those moments of despair really were.
And only 1.5 years into therapy, I met my current boyfriend, who I now live with. I'm not happy all the time, and we fight now and then, but the despair is gone.
I'm spending all this time writing all this to a stranger online because, for some reason, it is painful to see you have days like this - because you don't need to feel so horrible. Ever. You are worth so much more than that, and somebody can help you figure out why you feel this way (for me, it was a critical dad when I was very young - at the age of 31, I was still hearing his critical voice, but it was coming from my head instead of from him) and get out from under it.
Hugs!
xoxo
You know, apart from all that, you really should stop smoking those frozen cigarettes.
Yes, anonymous, I agree with you. I'm getting there slowly but have not quite wrapped my head around it (no pun intended!).
There is a history of depression/mental illness on my mother's side of the family so I am very cognizant that my own peculiar brand of crazy might actually be clinical. But I'm not ready. Even publishing this post was a big (baby) step for me.
It definitely is worse in the weeks before Christmas and I'm generally happy again immediately afterwards. If I ever get pregnant (which is not likely to happen given my advanced geriatric state ;), I will talk to my doctor because I suspect my mother had PPD and I would not want to wreak that kind of havoc on a child. For now though, I will continue to let my voices use this blog as an outlet.
i have been feeling really depressed lately too. Anonymous is right you need to find someone to talk to about this. It's good that you are sharing your feelings at the very least with strangers.
Feel better little butterfly!
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