Here's an example:
*You're nothing but a fat piece of shit that's wasted his life.
*Look at you, you're 37, you live with your cousin, and you have NOTHING to show for your life.
*That little trip to Auckland to add $5k to your student loan and meet someone potentially perfect for you and then fuck it up was a brilliant move, wasn't it. Well done loser.
*No wonder all your friends aren't interested in you anymore... why would they be?? They're tired of carrying your ass.
*Maybe you were just meant to be broke and alone.
*Maybe you should just kill yourself and release your family from the embarrassment of you, and society from the drain of you.
.....
I know all these thoughts. Me and them go waaaaay back. Although I always manage to fight them off - actually, that's not true, I only manage to get past the day, and the next one, and the next, but the thoughts are always there - I can't seem to get rid of them. I struggle to get to a place where I can accept them as Untrue. Always.
It's always when I'm at my lowest that other people seem to want more of me also. That's always been the way, I am FOREVER trying to squeeze more energy for others when I can barely breathe myself. And what's more, these others don't even notice half the time, or just won't take no for an answer.
So many people knocking on my door wanting something out of me, but never to see how I am, or how they can help.
Once Upon A Time I would talk to my friends when I'm feeling like this, and they would dutifully make me feel better like good friends should. But these days... these days they're all Parents, or have busy careers - ie. I don't feel like I can dump my unimportant self-loathing problems on them anymore. I know how hard it is to raise children. I also know that when you have children, you're only half-listening to anything anyone else says anyway, and at any moment they will drop out of your emotional crisis to say things like "Sorry, just got to deal with this for a sec, THE JUICE IS IN THE CUPBOARD, WHERE IT ALWAYS IS, I DON'T KNOW WHERE YOUR SHOES ARE, HAVE YOU LOOKED UNDER THE BED?, Ok, sorry about that, what were you talking about? I'm listening!" Which just makes you feel like you shouldn't have bothered in the first place and leaves you more traumatised than ever.
I went to my Doctor yesterday to talk about getting back on anti-depressants - turns out my Doctor was away and in his place was an intern who was probably no older than myself. I had to explain to him why I needed my medical certificate renewed (ie. dredge through my whole spinal history and the daily pain it gives me), which just made me feel worse because I HATE having to justify why I can't stand or sit comfortably for more than a few hours. I was also hating the thought running through my head -
"So... this guy's your age and he's a DOCTOR. And what are you again?? A beneficiary "writer". Fucking Awesome. You're AWESOME."
He was a friendly guy though and understood my disability without too much bother... and then proceeded to say "Don't take this the wrong way, but you seem a bit down. Are you keeping well, are you looking after yourself?"
And I nearly burst into tears. I really had to fight not to do that. I thanked him for his concern, told him I had some depression issues, but I would really rather talk to my own Doctor about that. He completely understood and wished me the best, and were he not an intern on placement for 6 months, I probably would have made him my new Doctor on the spot.
Purely based on the fact that he wasn't pushing me out of his office as soon as he'd finished... Plus he was kinda hot.
In all sincerity I don't think medication is the answer (been there, done that, and life was still rough as fuck), but maybe it will help ease the struggle of shutting the evil thoughts out.
My biggest, BIGGEST issue, of course, is the pain of a bent spine that only gives me more and more grief as I get older. People REALLY just don't get it, and they take shit so personally.
"Wanna come over?"
No, says I - not because I don't want to... but because I know what your furniture is like, it isn't good for me, and it isn't conducive to me sitting around for hours on it getting grumpier while you do all the talking and drain me even further. Fucking Energy Vampires...
I used to take morphine for the pain, but of course the dose just goes up and up as you get used to it, and then I got judged by the very medical profession that was prescribing it for me. Fuckin junkie.
Besides, that wasn't a cure. Just a band-aid.
There is no cure. I'm basically fucked and the only way I can get "better" is to work my brain to shove pain to the side and try and be happy about life... which is, like, so fucking easy.
Then I look at people in wheelchairs, or people with no limbs, and they somehow seem to be getting on with life... maybe they don't have pain, who knows, but I know I'm not the worst off on the planet. I also know that despite my best efforts to try and help myself up on follow-my-dreams-do-what-I-love-to-make-money-and-make-life-easier, it just never seems to pan out.
I guess what I'm saying is - Fuck You Life. You're a fucking Bitch.
There. I said it.
...
and now I'm breathing... I'm breathing...
...
I'm over it.
...
Well... not really. But I do feel slightly better.
...
slightly.
*
No comments:
Post a Comment