Venting A Random Good Day

[meaningisgone]

My life has been in a serious pit for about a year. A pit where most of my days blur together, sometimes I'm in bed for 24 hours at once (and I actually sleep most of that time, not just lay there), and 99.9999% of the time I sense no hope for the future whatsoever.

Yesterday, for a few hours at least, I actually felt... well, OK. I didn't feel wonderful. I felt a lot of emotional pain, actually. But you see, that's a positive thing. Because usually I'm just numb anymore. The pain made me feel more complete as a person, more functional. Emotional pain also gives me something to work with. If I know what hurts, I know what I can work on healing.

For a few short hours, I even found myself sort of wanting to live (a true rarity). But then I found myself getting set off and angry in an interaction with my mother, which resulted in me isolating myself so that I didn't yell at her (I say some terrible things sometimes when I am angry). She hates when I retreat when we're talking though, so she followed me (which I hate a lot). Our subsequent dialogue was none-too-pretty, and I made a fool of myself in a tantrum. She went away, and I felt like the me I've come to know over this past year again. Lifeless inside. All I wanted to do was sleep. So, I did.

Those few hours of emotional clarity weren't random. I took some old Ritalin that's been sitting forgotten on a shelf for a while now. It's what made me feel OK, but probably also why I was so unstable and tantrum-prone (I didn't take a huge dose, but more than prescribed, I am not sure how many mg exactly).

I went back to not wanting to live again. I'm so tired of the fighting and dissonance in this house, and I detest that I can't see a way out that doesn't involve death or homelessness.

So, I had one random good day out of a year. Well, a random three hours at any rate. It's just weird to feel good, even fleetingly. I am so used to being preoccupied with death and having no hope. Yesterday I didn't really have hope, but I had hope that I could conceivably find a way to have hope. If that makes sense.

Well, tonight I definitely took too much Ritalin, and swallowed down a bunch of Wellbutrin too. I didn't check the dose, but it was a lot. I don't think people typically die from these drugs, but part of me thinks, well, I am more out of shape than I've ever been in my life. Maybe my heart will stop. Maybe I will vomit all over everything. Maybe it will suck a lot. Or maybe I will just be up all night thinking about my piss poor joke of a life, all manic-like. My thoughts are starting to race right now. Maybe I'll have an epiphany and figure something out about myself. I can't really lose. I am totally cool with dying, even painfully at this point (it'll be over when it's over) and totally cool with feeling some semblance of energy for once. All these words I am writing right now, might be boring to you, heck, it's boring to me, but at least I am expressing myself instead of keeping it all bottled inside like I always do.

If someone reads this and wants to talk, hit me up. I could use the company. Much love.

 

[Socrates Augustus]

Where you from?

 

[meaningisgone]

Where you from?

Mid-Michigan, USA. Yourself?

 

[Socrates Augustus]

Mid-Michigan, USA. Yourself?

I am from Ireland.

 

[meaningisgone]

Update: My absurdly excessive mega-dose of Ritalin didn't stop my heart or anything morbid, but it did make me incredibly over-talkative in various chats and threads that occurred throughout the night, which was actually quite a welcome change of pace (for me, not sure about everyone else involved) because one of the symptoms of my depression is this bizarre wall between my thoughts, feelings, values, etc., and my ability to self-analyze those things and articulate what I find (in the endeavor of hopefully relating with and connecting to other people because one of the CAUSES of this depression is near complete isolation and disconnection).

Thank you to those who I connected with. One conversation in particular (you know exactly who you are) blew my mind and in a way sorta helped me feel something like a human being again (for a little over a year, I've been a vacant shell).

Sounds good, right? But where would I have been without overdosing on Ritalin? My butt would have been in bed, maybe falling asleep to Netflix, oversleeping well into the afternoon (which I am going to do anyway as I crash from the Ritalin). Rinse, lather, repeat. I wish I could feel like I did for about three hours of last night completely sober, or at least be able to engage with people on such a deep and meaningful level, which I can't seem to do on a daily basis sober.

I know it's not sustainable. I know I made a reckless decision to swallow copious amounts of pills without researching or caring enough to even know how many mg I took. I know my life isn't going to change because of a few hyper, expressive, mostly actually enjoyable hours. Any will to live I have right now is artificial and based on my excitement about experiencing life in a way in which I am utterly incapable without abusing a substance.

On the bright side, I did get to know some of you better, which I appreciate, and possibly formed some friendships that could last a while and even have a positive impact on quality of life (or at least connections were established that provide me with people I know I can reach out to in my final hour).

Right now, I'm the happiest suicidal person there is. My emotions are totally desensitized to the concept of suicide, and I have a rational understanding that the overarching theme of my past year (as I mentally prepare for the forthcoming end of my life) isn't going to go away just because of a chemical-induced online happyfuntime. It was fun, and I'll take it, but the circumstances of my life have me in a perpetual state of life support, and eventually I'll work up the audacity to pull the plug.

Or maybe I'll figure some junk out and rise like a phoenix, have a really solid era in my life, and watch the suicidal ideation fade away to the presence of purpose and synergy.

But let me tell you. Even then... I've been in and out of depression most of my life. Mostly in. And the older I get, the worse it gets. I GUARANTEE you if I do get better and relapse into depression in 5, 10, 20, whatever years, I will not hesitate to kill myself in the most effective, no nonsense way possible. There's no way I'll ever go through this again. And if it gets worse later in life, COUNT ME OUT.

I don't know if I'll get better. In the grand scheme of things, I've seen no evidence that it can happen. Right now I want to think it's possible though. Again, thanks to an awesome person who triggered something potent in me last night.

Sorry for being so talkative and perhaps veering way off the intended subject of these forums. I tried to reign it back in, but I can clearly see that my self-expression is going into overdrive. But I haven't been able to express myself or even fathom myself in what feels like an eternity, so to me it's worth it. Again, I'll take every morsel of life I can get, even if it actually feels quite awkward when I am so used to being down in the dumps.

Yeah, definitely in oversharing mode. Ask me anything, before I come down completely from the Ritalin. The answers would be humorous. But I doubt anyone actually read this whole thing, haha.

Thanks, organizers of Sanctioned Suicide, for providing this amazing venue where lost souls can come to terms with themselves and find whatever semblance of life and peace that we can. Pretty soon I'll probably go right back to my nonexpressive haze, so I just want to get that gratitude out in the open while it counts.

Peace. Long live life and death (whichever you prefer).

 

[meaningisgone]

I am from Ireland.

Would love to visit but have to income for travel expenses. I really gotta experience some place other than the USA. Unless I kill myself first lol.

 

[Socrates Augustus]

Update: My absurdly excessive mega-dose of Ritalin didn't stop my heart or anything morbid, but it did make me incredibly over-talkative in various chats and threads that occurred throughout the night, which was actually quite a welcome change of pace (for me, not sure about everyone else involved) because one of the symptoms of my depression is this bizarre wall between my thoughts, feelings, values, etc., and my ability to self-analyze those things and articulate what I find (in the endeavor of hopefully relating with and connecting to other people because one of the CAUSES of this depression is near complete isolation and disconnection).

Thank you to those who I connected with. One conversation in particular (you know exactly who you are) blew my mind and in a way sorta helped me feel something like a human being again (for a little over a year, I've been a vacant shell).

Sounds good, right? But where would I have been without overdosing on Ritalin? My butt would have been in bed, maybe falling asleep to Netflix, oversleeping well into the afternoon (which I am going to do anyway as I crash from the Ritalin). Rinse, lather, repeat. I wish I could feel like I did for about three hours of last night completely sober, or at least be able to engage with people on such a deep and meaningful level, which I can't seem to do on a daily basis sober.

I know it's not sustainable. I know I made a reckless decision to swallow copious amounts of pills without researching or caring enough to even know how many mg I took. I know my life isn't going to change because of a few hyper, expressive, mostly actually enjoyable hours. Any will to live I have right now is artificial and based on my excitement about experiencing life in a way in which I am utterly incapable without abusing a substance.

On the bright side, I did get to know some of you better, which I appreciate, and possibly formed some friendships that could last a while and even have a positive impact on quality of life (or at least connections were established that provide me with people I know I can reach out to in my final hour).

Right now, I'm the happiest suicidal person there is. My emotions are totally desensitized to the concept of suicide, and I have a rational understanding that the overarching theme of my past year (as I mentally prepare for the forthcoming end of my life) isn't going to go away just because of a chemical-induced online happyfuntime. It was fun, and I'll take it, but the circumstances of my life have me in a perpetual state of life support, and eventually I'll work up the audacity to pull the plug.

Or maybe I'll figure some junk out and rise like a phoenix, have a really solid era in my life, and watch the suicidal ideation fade away to the presence of purpose and synergy.

But let me tell you. Even then... I've been in and out of depression most of my life. Mostly in. And the older I get, the worse it gets. I GUARANTEE you if I do get better and relapse into depression in 5, 10, 20, whatever years, I will not hesitate to kill myself in the most effective, no nonsense way possible. There's no way I'll ever go through this again. And if it gets worse later in life, COUNT ME OUT.

I don't know if I'll get better. In the grand scheme of things, I've seen no evidence that it can happen. Right now I want to think it's possible though. Again, thanks to an awesome person who triggered something potent in me last night.

Sorry for being so talkative and perhaps veering way off the intended subject of these forums. I tried to reign it back in, but I can clearly see that my self-expression is going into overdrive. But I haven't been able to express myself or even fathom myself in what feels like an eternity, so to me it's worth it. Again, I'll take every morsel of life I can get, even if it actually feels quite awkward when I am so used to being down in the dumps.

Yeah, definitely in oversharing mode. Ask me anything, before I come down completely from the Ritalin. The answers would be humorous. But I doubt anyone actually read this whole thing, haha.

Thanks, organizers of Sanctioned Suicide, for providing this amazing venue where lost souls can come to terms with themselves and find whatever semblance of life and peace that we can. Pretty soon I'll probably go right back to my nonexpressive haze, so I just want to get that gratitude out in the open while it counts.

Peace. Love live life and death (whichever you prefer).

Update: My absurdly excessive mega-dose of Ritalin didn't stop my heart or anything morbid, but it did make me incredibly over-talkative in various chats and threads that occurred throughout the night, which was actually quite a welcome change of pace (for me, not sure about everyone else involved) because one of the symptoms of my depression is this bizarre wall between my thoughts, feelings, values, etc., and my ability to self-analyze those things and articulate what I find (in the endeavor of hopefully relating with and connecting to other people because one of the CAUSES of this depression is near complete isolation and disconnection).

Thank you to those who I connected with. One conversation in particular (you know exactly who you are) blew my mind and in a way sorta helped me feel something like a human being again (for a little over a year, I've been a vacant shell).

Sounds good, right? But where would I have been without overdosing on Ritalin? My butt would have been in bed, maybe falling asleep to Netflix, oversleeping well into the afternoon (which I am going to do anyway as I crash from the Ritalin). Rinse, lather, repeat. I wish I could feel like I did for about three hours of last night completely sober, or at least be able to engage with people on such a deep and meaningful level, which I can't seem to do on a daily basis sober.

I know it's not sustainable. I know I made a reckless decision to swallow copious amounts of pills without researching or caring enough to even know how many mg I took. I know my life isn't going to change because of a few hyper, expressive, mostly actually enjoyable hours. Any will to live I have right now is artificial and based on my excitement about experiencing life in a way in which I am utterly incapable without abusing a substance.

On the bright side, I did get to know some of you better, which I appreciate, and possibly formed some friendships that could last a while and even have a positive impact on quality of life (or at least connections were established that provide me with people I know I can reach out to in my final hour).

Right now, I'm the happiest suicidal person there is. My emotions are totally desensitized to the concept of suicide, and I have a rational understanding that the overarching theme of my past year (as I mentally prepare for the forthcoming end of my life) isn't going to go away just because of a chemical-induced online happyfuntime. It was fun, and I'll take it, but the circumstances of my life have me in a perpetual state of life support, and eventually I'll work up the audacity to pull the plug.

Or maybe I'll figure some junk out and rise like a phoenix, have a really solid era in my life, and watch the suicidal ideation fade away to the presence of purpose and synergy.

But let me tell you. Even then... I've been in and out of depression most of my life. Mostly in. And the older I get, the worse it gets. I GUARANTEE you if I do get better and relapse into depression in 5, 10, 20, whatever years, I will not hesitate to kill myself in the most effective, no nonsense way possible. There's no way I'll ever go through this again. And if it gets worse later in life, COUNT ME OUT.

I don't know if I'll get better. In the grand scheme of things, I've seen no evidence that it can happen. Right now I want to think it's possible though. Again, thanks to an awesome person who triggered something potent in me last night.

Sorry for being so talkative and perhaps veering way off the intended subject of these forums. I tried to reign it back in, but I can clearly see that my self-expression is going into overdrive. But I haven't been able to express myself or even fathom myself in what feels like an eternity, so to me it's worth it. Again, I'll take every morsel of life I can get, even if it actually feels quite awkward when I am so used to being down in the dumps.

Yeah, definitely in oversharing mode. Ask me anything, before I come down completely from the Ritalin. The answers would be humorous. But I doubt anyone actually read this whole thing, haha.

Thanks, organizers of Sanctioned Suicide, for providing this amazing venue where lost souls can come to terms with themselves and find whatever semblance of life and peace that we can. Pretty soon I'll probably go right back to my nonexpressive haze, so I just want to get that gratitude out in the open while it counts.

Peace. Love live life and death (whichever you prefer).

I take Tramadol to help me cope.

 

[meaningisgone]

I take Tramadol to help me cope.

Haven't tried it. As prescribed, or at higher doses?

 

[meaningisgone]

I got to thinking. About saying I'd kill myself for sure if I got better from depression, then relapsed in 5, 10, 20, whatever years. One thing I didn't take into account was that if I function in a balanced and healthy way for a period of time, I'll find new reasons to live, and if those reasons stick around through my mental health cycle, they would logically make suicide less likely. Then again, part of the reason I am so depressed now is because I had a whole bunch of valuable reasons to live (friends, academic and professional goals and prospects, a job that I could actually enjoy for a while, and the high esteem of people in my life that came from being a person who actually went outside and functioned adequately in the world), but those reasons went away along with the value I prescribed to them. Even worse, in many cases, I felt totally abandoned by people I loved and expected to stick around in my life for a whole lot longer than they did. My mental illness, and a lot of choices I made to cope involving drugs and what they considered erratic, dangerous behavior) was a large part of what drove them away. I guess I expected them to put up with me, but they ran for the hills, leaving me without that which I held dear to my heart. That loss and my endless mulling over of it definitely contributes to my depression. My life was built up higher than it had ever been, so the mighty fall stung more than it ever had. I think that process is part of my suicide puzzle. I am honestly deathly afraid of building my life up to an even higher and more rewarding level, and watching the process repeat like a slow motion car accident that I can't look away from. So whether I jumped straight to suicide or not after a relapse later in life, depends on the meaning and value of that which remains in my life when the lights go out. Can it stick around through the blackout? Could I actually build a system in my life that survives this cycle? That'd be cool, but I am not betting on it.

 

[Socrates Augustus]

Higher doses about 400mg.

 

[meaningisgone]

One more and I'm done, I swear.

Essentially in the span of a few years, I went from having a thriving social life, those academic and professional prospects, enjoyable work, and a meaningful, basically well-adjusted life (my crappy version of well-adjusted anyway lol) to total prolonged solitude, many people I loved dearly who won't even talk to me and if they did it would be awkward for everyone, losing my awesome job due to depression and instability (I also had a heavy sense of identity attached to that job, since it involved writing and helping others express themselves through writing, one of the closest things I've ever had to a true passion; also my coworkers and I were a family for the long haul, or that's how it once felt, so I lost a deeply valuable sense of fellowship and belonging. I was rejected from the group that once accepted me, thrown out like forgotten trash, yeah, still have some issues with this apparently), and mental instability, anxiety, and depression to the point of not even attempting to be employable. Seriously, I tried to work in a factory last year, I lasted one day, had a panic attack, went home and slept for like a week. That's how much I suck at making progress in my life. And yet somehow, at least trying is probably better than the eternal pit of nothingness I currently sit in. And that's a basic picture of how far I've fallen and gone downhill and gradually gotten worse under the weight of the loss, disappointment, and knowledge that even when I do my absolute best, it's nowhere nearly good enough. When I write these events out, and the current conditions of my life, it all seems trite to me, or I imagine it may seem trite to others who have gone through more dramatic and traumatic losses in their lives (my fall from grace was more dramatic, humiliating, and event-packed than I've touched on, but still, I know a lot of people, including people here definitely, have endured life events that were even more cruel and lethal than what I've been through. But what can I say? What I've been through was more than enough to defeat me. I just wanted to write this, because a lot of times I lack clarity on what exactly it is that I've misplaced and destroyed in life. Maybe I should privately journal it? What a novel concept! Nah, I'll let it all hang out. Consider it a case study of a person teetering over the edge of ending it all, or choosing to step up and try again (eventually, maybe, all in due time, we'll see).

I promise I'll stop barfing out my innards online now.

 

[Socrates Augustus]

One more and I'm done, I swear.

Essentially in the span of a few years, I went from having a thriving social life, those academic and professional prospects, enjoyable work, and a meaningful, basically well-adjusted life (my crappy version of well-adjusted anyway lol) to total prolonged solitude, many people I loved dearly who won't even talk to me and if they did it would be awkward for everyone, losing my awesome job due to depression and instability (I also had a heavy sense of identity attached to that job, since it involved writing and helping others express themselves through writing, one of the closest things I've ever had to a true passion; also my coworkers and I were a family for the long haul, or that's how it once felt, so I lost a deeply valuable sense of fellowship and belonging. I was rejected from the group that once accepted me, thrown out like forgotten trash, yeah, still have some issues with this apparently), and mental instability, anxiety, and depression to the point of not even attempting to be employable. Seriously, I tried to work in a factory last year, I lasted one day, had a panic attack, went home and slept for like a week. That's how much I suck at making progress in my life. And yet somehow, at least trying is probably better than the eternal pit of nothingness I currently sit in. And that's a basic picture of how far I've fallen and gone downhill and gradually gotten worse under the weight of the loss, disappointment, and knowledge that even when I do my absolutely best, it's nowhere near good enough. When I write these events out, and the current conditions of my life, it all seems trite to me, or I imagine it may seem trite to others who have gone through more dramatic and traumatic losses in their lives (my fall from grace was more dramatic, humiliating, and event-packed than I've touched on, but still, I know a lot of people, including people here definitely, have endured life events that were even more cruel and lethal than what I've been through. But what can I say? What I've been through was more than enough to defeat me. I just wanted to write this, because a lot of times I lack clarity on what exactly it is that I've misplaced and destroyed in life. Maybe I should privately journal it? What a novel concept! Nah, I'll let it all hang out. Consider it a case study of a person teetering over the edge of ending it all, or choosing to step up and try again (eventually, maybe, all in due time).

I promise I'll stop barfing out my innards online now.

lol some meds as well as Tramadol does that it makes you talk.

 

[meaningisgone]

It's like a very cerebral energy that this gives me, an energy that definitely applies to thinking and communicating. I like it. Something that would energize me more physically to the point of actually exercising would be nice.

 

[Socrates Augustus]

One more and I'm done, I swear.

Essentially in the span of a few years, I went from having a thriving social life, those academic and professional prospects, enjoyable work, and a meaningful, basically well-adjusted life (my crappy version of well-adjusted anyway lol) to total prolonged solitude, many people I loved dearly who won't even talk to me and if they did it would be awkward for everyone, losing my awesome job due to depression and instability (I also had a heavy sense of identity attached to that job, since it involved writing and helping others express themselves through writing, one of the closest things I've ever had to a true passion; also my coworkers and I were a family for the long haul, or that's how it once felt, so I lost a deeply valuable sense of fellowship and belonging. I was rejected from the group that once accepted me, thrown out like forgotten trash, yeah, still have some issues with this apparently), and mental instability, anxiety, and depression to the point of not even attempting to be employable. Seriously, I tried to work in a factory last year, I lasted one day, had a panic attack, went home and slept for like a week. That's how much I suck at making progress in my life. And yet somehow, at least trying is probably better than the eternal pit of nothingness I currently sit in. And that's a basic picture of how far I've fallen and gone downhill and gradually gotten worse under the weight of the loss, disappointment, and knowledge that even when I do my absolutely best, it's nowhere near good enough. When I write these events out, and the current conditions of my life, it all seems trite to me, or I imagine it may seem trite to others who have gone through more dramatic and traumatic losses in their lives (my fall from grace was more dramatic, humiliating, and event-packed than I've touched on, but still, I know a lot of people, including people here definitely, have endured life events that were even more cruel and lethal than what I've been through. But what can I say? What I've been through was more than enough to defeat me. I just wanted to write this, because a lot of times I lack clarity on what exactly it is that I've misplaced and destroyed in life. Maybe I should privately journal it? What a novel concept! Nah, I'll let it all hang out. Consider it a case study of a person teetering over the edge of ending it all, or choosing to step up and try again (eventually, maybe, all in due time).

I promise I'll stop barfing out my innards online now.

You say you tried to work in a factory for a year and had a panic attack. The truth is we are made to work for ourselves and our families not someone else. What I am saying is not new age shit its the truth working in factories etc.. people doing a job they dont want to do causes mental illness suicide etc..

 

[meaningisgone]

You say you tried to work in a factory for a year and had a panic attack. The truth is we are made to work for ourselves and our families not someone else. What I am saying is not new age shit its the truth working in factories etc.. people doing a job they dont want to do causes mental illness suicide etc..

I only lasted in that factory a DAY before my mental state said, "No way."

I agree with you completely. I think that there are so many unnatural elements of society that humanity has yet to acknowledge the detriment of and evolve beyond. Lots of jobs are like that, but some people can handle it relatively well, maybe because they are focused on money and making ends meet, or a deep implementation of sacrifice and duty (which I find impressive in its own way, since I don't have that at all). But my problem is, I've always seen money as a ridiculous and flawed invention that I never developed a whole lot of respect for. It's never been the driving force of my life, to the point where I am literally incapable of tolerating a crappy job for a paycheck. I've tried so many times. I can only fail so many times before realizing I need to find another way. But not having the energy, creativity, or motivation for finding another way led me to this rut. I've tried starting a business and making money with writing, but haven't gotten too far with either. Maybe someday. I imagine I'd suck at running a business though, since it seems I don't take money seriously enough to buckle down and overcome my bad habits with it.

But yeah, sidetracked. Sorry. I am excited about all the jobs that will be lost as humanity slowly shifts away from fossil fuels, and automation replaces a good portion of the jobs nobody wants to do anyway. Money-minded people are afraid of that, because they are focused on working within the existing system, making their money, living the dream, whatever. After people get over their shock of a brand new update to the way employment and money works, they'll hopefully see the benefit: We'll all get to live more authentic, less forced lives, more creative, personal and prolific in our work, freer to let go of all the effing stress that's built up in us as a species forced to do unspeakable unnatural things in the name of civilization. If I knew these changes would happen quickly, I might be more prone to stick around and see if the reinvented system has room for sad little wankers like me. But with so much fundamentalist resistance to these ideas, the change will happen more slowly than would be ideal, or maybe the trends of civilization will throw a curve ball and humanity will go in some completely different direction. Also, Universal Basic Income is a great idea, it would certainly add some hope to my life at least (think of all the valuable things that humans do that they are never compensated or acknowledged for, some of which are more impressive and important than any official job; I think part of why we get depressed is because throughout our lives we put in so much effort that no one seems to notice).

People be all like, "That's a socialist dream. Wahhhh Venezuela, and other things I heard about on Fox News."

Whatever... Money and society are intricate inventions that leave a lot of people marginalized and broken. What can be invented can be reinvented, which would be especially awesome if we do so in a way that no longer effs over portions of the population.

I said I'd stop. But you keep being so interesting. Haha, thanks for the mental stimulation, amigo.

 

[favourite]

These random good days are imho just a cruel trolling of our minds, telling us what do we miss on.

 

[meaningisgone]

These random good days are imho just a cruel trolling of our minds, telling us what do we miss on.

Indeed, cruel. "Here, have some hope," life says. "No wait, I want that back," life says two seconds later.

 

[favourite]

Indeed, cruel. "Here, have some hope," life says. "No wait, I want that back," life says two seconds later.

Exactly.