I hope this is the right place to put this. If it isn't, mods, feel free to nuke this from orbit.
I've been lurking here for a while. Demographically, I'm quite a bit different from a lot of you. I'm a guy in his late 30's at time of writing this, and career-wise I've found quite a bit of recent success, although I absolutely hate my job. From the outside, I look like a bit of a playboy wĆ¼nderkid. I'm really good at masking and when I need to I can throw on the charm. But the prior 25 or so years were absolute fucking hell. I'm in therapy, but I keep my cards close to my vest in sessions because I don't want to give too much away.
I have absolutely no close friends left. I've burned through all my connections because of my mental instability. I've never been in a serious relationship, always felt unworthy, which is probably a good thing in the long run. In general, I have a pattern of sabotaging my social relationships thanks to my paranoia and self-loathing. I fucking hate myself. Used to punch myself over and over as a kid, but I was clever enough not to give myself bruises or marks. I have a CTB method prepared and ready to go, but I will not disclose it because I don't want to out myself as a danger to myself. I despise hurting other people and other creatures. I believe life, aside from my own, is precious. If ceasing to exist would bring about a perfect world, I would do it a million times over without even thinking. The only reason I haven't is because I know the damage it would cause to my coworkers and the few family members I have who I still care about. I don't want that on my soul. But still, it calls to me.
Now comes the fun part where I get to sound like a paranoid schizophrenic.
I used to be an atheist, but now I'm not sure. I think that all large-scale organized religions are a complete scam and designed to mislead people, but I can't shake the feeling like there is something out there. Some kind of purpose to all this. I'm reading up on Jung, ancient religion and philosophy (The Kybalion, Gnosticism, general Esoterism, ect.). Something clicked for me last year, on my birthday. I know it sounds completely ridiculous, but I feel like I'm here for a reason. Like, I'm supposed to be doing something. Saying something. Expressing something. Achieving something.
I was a classic 'gifted kid'. Everything came effortlessly to me in school, especially music, but because of my emotional and mental state growing up, I'd always hit a brick wall beyond which I couldn't progress. Failure filled me with profound guilt, as I was brought up believing that I was 'wasting my potential'. I also tried my hand at writing, for which I got a little noteriery in college, but again struggled to carry it any further. I'm back to writing, because I have ideas and stories stuck in my head that are literally, and I mean literally torturing me day in and day out. So that is what I landed on, I guess. Writing short stories, books, novels, maybe a series. I wanna write things that help people salve the pain of life in this horrible, troubling time in history. I want to make the world a better place. It's what I always wanted. It's lame and hokey, but fuck it. That's what I want.
But I'm struggling to keep going and to focus. I need to hold on. I need strategies and plans to keep my despair and misery from completely consuming me. I've got to keep going.
I don't know if this resonates with anyone, or why I'm even putting this here. I don't know. I don't know anything anymore.
What to do?
I've been lurking here for a while. Demographically, I'm quite a bit different from a lot of you. I'm a guy in his late 30's at time of writing this, and career-wise I've found quite a bit of recent success, although I absolutely hate my job. From the outside, I look like a bit of a playboy wĆ¼nderkid. I'm really good at masking and when I need to I can throw on the charm. But the prior 25 or so years were absolute fucking hell. I'm in therapy, but I keep my cards close to my vest in sessions because I don't want to give too much away.
I have absolutely no close friends left. I've burned through all my connections because of my mental instability. I've never been in a serious relationship, always felt unworthy, which is probably a good thing in the long run. In general, I have a pattern of sabotaging my social relationships thanks to my paranoia and self-loathing. I fucking hate myself. Used to punch myself over and over as a kid, but I was clever enough not to give myself bruises or marks. I have a CTB method prepared and ready to go, but I will not disclose it because I don't want to out myself as a danger to myself. I despise hurting other people and other creatures. I believe life, aside from my own, is precious. If ceasing to exist would bring about a perfect world, I would do it a million times over without even thinking. The only reason I haven't is because I know the damage it would cause to my coworkers and the few family members I have who I still care about. I don't want that on my soul. But still, it calls to me.
Now comes the fun part where I get to sound like a paranoid schizophrenic.
I used to be an atheist, but now I'm not sure. I think that all large-scale organized religions are a complete scam and designed to mislead people, but I can't shake the feeling like there is something out there. Some kind of purpose to all this. I'm reading up on Jung, ancient religion and philosophy (The Kybalion, Gnosticism, general Esoterism, ect.). Something clicked for me last year, on my birthday. I know it sounds completely ridiculous, but I feel like I'm here for a reason. Like, I'm supposed to be doing something. Saying something. Expressing something. Achieving something.
I was a classic 'gifted kid'. Everything came effortlessly to me in school, especially music, but because of my emotional and mental state growing up, I'd always hit a brick wall beyond which I couldn't progress. Failure filled me with profound guilt, as I was brought up believing that I was 'wasting my potential'. I also tried my hand at writing, for which I got a little noteriery in college, but again struggled to carry it any further. I'm back to writing, because I have ideas and stories stuck in my head that are literally, and I mean literally torturing me day in and day out. So that is what I landed on, I guess. Writing short stories, books, novels, maybe a series. I wanna write things that help people salve the pain of life in this horrible, troubling time in history. I want to make the world a better place. It's what I always wanted. It's lame and hokey, but fuck it. That's what I want.
But I'm struggling to keep going and to focus. I need to hold on. I need strategies and plans to keep my despair and misery from completely consuming me. I've got to keep going.
I don't know if this resonates with anyone, or why I'm even putting this here. I don't know. I don't know anything anymore.
What to do?
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