alivefornow
thinking about it
- Feb 6, 2023
- 131
I am so fucking angry at myself right now.
2024, I make it into university again and get some offers for working as a private teacher. I built a bit of a good reputation over the last two years. I drop it all and check myself into a psych ward once again, because I can't stop thinking about blowing my brains off, and that would upset ma.
They drug me so much I'm hearing voices, never had that before. Felt like the roommate was pulling my blanket, he obviously wasn't. I can't stand another second of staring at other crazies and check myself out after 15 days. Against the doctor's strong recommendations and my family's wishes.
Now I'm off my meds, riding my bed all day, smoking cigarettes, eating whatever and sleeping whenever. And when I do sleep, I have nightmares of my emotional trauma. Now naps are ruined too.
Everything is pain, all day, everyday. My heart hurts and irradiates pain waves through my entire body. Dark thoughts settle in for good.
Fast forward about two weeks and a lot of Netflix binging. I start watching After Life for the first time. Tony (Ricky Gervais) leaves me with watery eyes as he goes on his self-inflicted torture of watching videos of his dead wife.
Then, as I am half-asleep, Brian (David Earl) hits me with the most insanely hilarious joke ever. He goes up to the secretary and delivers it.
"What's grey and comes in pints?"
"Elephant. FFFFFFF, you soaked!"
I'm laughing so much, I'm in tears. Every time I rewind it, it gets funnier, I cry of laughter for about five minutes.
I go down for a smoke, still laughing. I take a shower, still laughing. I feel relief. The best I've felt in over a year. Drugs can't match this feeling.
I decide to attend an NA meeting, haven't been there in about three months. Gotta tell someone my shit story about my shit day somehow kicked up to astronomical heights of hysterical laughter by this golden comedy bit.
As I listen to the other attendants, I'm on the verge of tears. My turn to share, I nervously stutter my little story. I don't retell the joke, I just say there was a joke. I forget to make my halfwit observation about how I am so depressed but the tears coming down were of laughter. And I go home.
Honestly I liked myself more when I was an irresponsible drunk junkie hooking up with any willing girl. Now I'm a sorry mess, I'm 28 and I have nothing to show but my sad face and a little bit of saved up cash.
This is not self-pity, that would require me to like myself. This is a steamy lump of hardcore self-hatred.
Go to a shrink, one might say. What could a shrink possibly say that I don't already know?
There are only two ways out, get my shit together or die. And I don't know how to do any of those. Couldn't take that SN when I had it, let myself get caught with it in a way that was almost purposeful.
The only things I'm sure of: my pain is real and I'll die someday. I tell myself happiness is just not for the likes of me, and I'm scared I might be right.
I'm in psychological hell right now. I'm so fucked, I'm back on the opinion that St Anger is a good record (it is). I just want out. I'm not interested in the future anymore.
Sorry for long and senseless post. I might be losing my marbles.
2024, I make it into university again and get some offers for working as a private teacher. I built a bit of a good reputation over the last two years. I drop it all and check myself into a psych ward once again, because I can't stop thinking about blowing my brains off, and that would upset ma.
They drug me so much I'm hearing voices, never had that before. Felt like the roommate was pulling my blanket, he obviously wasn't. I can't stand another second of staring at other crazies and check myself out after 15 days. Against the doctor's strong recommendations and my family's wishes.
Now I'm off my meds, riding my bed all day, smoking cigarettes, eating whatever and sleeping whenever. And when I do sleep, I have nightmares of my emotional trauma. Now naps are ruined too.
Everything is pain, all day, everyday. My heart hurts and irradiates pain waves through my entire body. Dark thoughts settle in for good.
Fast forward about two weeks and a lot of Netflix binging. I start watching After Life for the first time. Tony (Ricky Gervais) leaves me with watery eyes as he goes on his self-inflicted torture of watching videos of his dead wife.
Then, as I am half-asleep, Brian (David Earl) hits me with the most insanely hilarious joke ever. He goes up to the secretary and delivers it.
"What's grey and comes in pints?"
"Elephant. FFFFFFF, you soaked!"
I'm laughing so much, I'm in tears. Every time I rewind it, it gets funnier, I cry of laughter for about five minutes.
I go down for a smoke, still laughing. I take a shower, still laughing. I feel relief. The best I've felt in over a year. Drugs can't match this feeling.
I decide to attend an NA meeting, haven't been there in about three months. Gotta tell someone my shit story about my shit day somehow kicked up to astronomical heights of hysterical laughter by this golden comedy bit.
As I listen to the other attendants, I'm on the verge of tears. My turn to share, I nervously stutter my little story. I don't retell the joke, I just say there was a joke. I forget to make my halfwit observation about how I am so depressed but the tears coming down were of laughter. And I go home.
Honestly I liked myself more when I was an irresponsible drunk junkie hooking up with any willing girl. Now I'm a sorry mess, I'm 28 and I have nothing to show but my sad face and a little bit of saved up cash.
This is not self-pity, that would require me to like myself. This is a steamy lump of hardcore self-hatred.
Go to a shrink, one might say. What could a shrink possibly say that I don't already know?
There are only two ways out, get my shit together or die. And I don't know how to do any of those. Couldn't take that SN when I had it, let myself get caught with it in a way that was almost purposeful.
The only things I'm sure of: my pain is real and I'll die someday. I tell myself happiness is just not for the likes of me, and I'm scared I might be right.
I'm in psychological hell right now. I'm so fucked, I'm back on the opinion that St Anger is a good record (it is). I just want out. I'm not interested in the future anymore.
Sorry for long and senseless post. I might be losing my marbles.
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