*ive decided all my posts are more than likely triggering, no one should take much notice of my writings*
So its new years eve and for the first time ever i have decided not to celebrate it. To put it simply i just cant be bothered.
I cant be bothered to find an outfit that fits, wash, or do my hair. There isnt anyone i want to impress and the whole process of getting ready which i used to love to take my time over now seems to be a massive useless chore.
One of my few remaining friends F is having a little party before heading into town. F has experienced depression and crippling social anxiety but now has flourished into a social butterfly, luckily she understands when i say i cant be bothered to go out and she isnt holding anything against me when i reject her invitation. Making small talk is a massive task for me to manage when im feeling this depressed and it is obviously inevitable, you cant escape that at a small party. So i plan to stay indoors, watch some crappy tv alone and probably be asleep by 10pm.
I havnt left my room since boxingday unless it was to get food or use the bathroom. My family are leaving me to it but i do wonder how long it will be till my parents try and prise me from my comforting little cave. I try to remember the last time i left the house and i think it was around 15 days ago. Needless to say i am utterly bored, but rather than motivating me to change my life for the good it just seems to make me wish a little harder that i was dead. Not hard enough to actually do anything though. I think i’ll stop taking my anti depressants, im actually longing for the motivation i get from being drug free to actually put the energy and effort into ending my life. I also secretly like the way i obsess over it, it keeps my mind busy.
15 days till i see my psychiatrist, shes pretty much useless as i dont listen to her. People say “you will one day look back and realise you were wrong and be thankful for the help you recieved”, that is exactly what i am frightened of. I dont want to be delusional to what the world is really like. Life is a struggle that i dont want to fight with. Im scared of being tied to this world with more than just the guilt of leaving.
Although i dont look forward to seeing my psychiatrist, a part of me does want to experience a therapist, just to see if there are any other conclusions as to why i feel the way i do.
So i go into 2014 with no plans other than to hopefully not enter 2015.
I cant seem to think of any reasons why i should continue living. Everything i seem to read suggests i need a goal to strive to achieve in order to give my days meaning. I dont have any goals or any wants so what do i do now? Some people might not understand that i dont want anything, whilst others might completely understand my point of view.
At school we were constantly asked what we wanted to become. “what do you want to be when you grow up?” i absolutely hated that question. How does a child decide what they want to devote their lives to? I remember being dazzled with all my classmates answers and thinking “wow they have it all thought out”. Why do i have no ambition? Does it have something to do with my upbringing? In our family we have always been expected to go to university, but we had the freedom to choose any sort of degree that we wished. I guess that gave me a MASSIVE choice of future careers, maybe i was too overwhelmed to pick a specific one. All i remember was that i wanted to be rich.
Recently ive come into into a large amount of money, and i have absolutely no clue what i should spend it on. I really dont need anything because i really am rather privileged and i live at home with my parents. So ive got too much money to know what to do with and i guess ive achieved that childhood wish of being rich, now what?
Being rich hasnt made me any happier and i still feel that horrible numb/bored/dull/lifeless feeling that i seem to get from antidepressants. I spend all day searching the corners of my mind for reasons to live and reasons to die. My pros/cons list isnt very long and is most likely tainted by my ill mental health.
The truth is i dont want to live and i refuse to live. I refuse to finish my degree, i refuse to make new friendships, i refuse to find a life partner and to create life, i refuse to start a career and ultimately i refuse to grow up. All this i think i decided many years ago when faced with that question “what would you like to do if you had infinite resources and abilities”, i dont want anything.
I dont want to exisit.
When/how i choose to stop existing i need to leave my loved ones behind in the kindest way possible, i guess from now on my energy will go on preparing.
People fear death even more than pain. It’s strange that they fear death. Life hurts a lot more than death. At the point of death, the pain is over. Yeah, I guess it is a friend.
A week ago I upped my mirtazapine from 30mg to 45mg and I think it’s actually making me feel worse. Again I seem to be obsessing over death, my sucky life and nothing holds my attention for longer than 10 minutes unless it is something depression related. So my mood lightened for a few weeks and now I’m heading back down the black hole, perfect timing for Christmas. Then again the fact Christmas is three days away could be making me feel worse. You know, pressure, stress and all that.
Other than the low mood I’ve also noticed the LOVELY sedative symptom that I got from the mirtazapine seems to be wearing off. I spend hours lying in bed thinking how great it would be to be dead even though I’ve lost hope that I can achieve a successful suicide. That sort of makes it worse, I’m hopeless now.
I’ve tried sertraline, citalopram and now mirtazapine when will I find something that works?
” everyone was saying you were going to throw yourself under a train”
That’s what someone told me last night when discussing how drunk I was that time. How did respond? I laughed and said “haa no I just got a train home”, I wasn’t lying but I remember going through the motions of actually wanting to do it that night and numerous times before and after.
I think a lot of people know I’m struggling with depression, I posted it on twitter for god sake, this blog is still anonymous though. I’m shocking myself with how I’m reacting to that statement. Why am I not panicking that everyone knows (or think they know) what I ultimately aim to do. Not a train specifically but suicide in some shape or form. I’ve wanted to die for as long as I can remember, it’s my ultimate goal, I’m beyond caring if people know.
I realised I wanted to die a long time ago. I’ve never wanted to get “old” which in my opinion is anytime after turning 25. People live happily to 85, I know, however I can’t think of anything worse. I just don’t aspire to do anything that comes from living. In truth I’m afraid to be guilted into having a long relationship, a proper job, a mortgage, children and new friends to feel guilty for when I decide enough is enough. I don’t want to experience the world, I’m just not interested and I never have. Never have I wanted to be something or someone basically, zero aspirations.
I wonder what a therapist would make out of this blog post, that’s the only thing I’m intrigued about. I’m still waiting for a possible therapist to get back to me… A little bit of closure about why I’m this way would be comforting.
Life is boring, nothing can hold my attention anymore.
I gave up on knitting ages ago, not because I found It hard, just because I couldn’t find a reason to continue with it. I suppose I could of made a scarf, but I rarely go out so I wouldn’t really use it. I could of made a blanket but that would mean going out to buy more wool. I have very little money as it is and spending what I do have on wool seems like a waste and also a waste of effort as I doubt I could make a blanket as superior to the one I’m under now. I doubt I would even feel that joyous accomplishment feeling real people are suppose to get. I could make things and give them to charity but the truth is I am just not that much of a good person to dedicate that much of my time for others. Not forgetting I would probably shrink anything I do make in the washing machine.
This talk of not knitting feels all to familiar with my perspective on living. What’s the point? It takes too much effort and it’s a waste of resources. Not forgetting I’m more than likely to shrink in the wash.
Am I a bad person because I dislike 95% of people and because I don’t think those 5% of people are worth living for?
Just a thought.