
TheExpression
Member
- Mar 11, 2022
- 17
I'm very well aware of the issues I have. I've been going to therapy and taking all kinds of pills since my early teens. But over time I feel i've only been getting worse and worse.
I strongly believe people are made up of two parts; a sort of logical objective part and an emotional subjective part. Both are equally valuable but there can be an imbalance.
Objectively I know not everyone on this planet I meet hates me. I know not everyone is secretly conspiring against me. (Kind of unlikely.) In fact, I believe most people have good intentions (note: good intentions don't always lead to good or 'moral' actions though). But subjectively, these anxieties always manage to creep up on me. I over-analyze every single thing in every single interaction I have with people. A simple roll with the eyes may lead to me intuitively recontextualizing every single interaction i've had with that person in a negative light.
I try to push back against these, let's be frank, delusions. But they're so dominating. The connections I have with people is one of the few things i like to pride myself on. But what even is the point of talking to my friends if at the end of the day i'll end up feeling miserable.
It's especially not fair of me towards other people. I feel i'm very lucky with my sizeable group of friends, and with the kinds of people that are included in it.
I do want to say I still think going to therapy is a good thing for most people. But maybe i'm just an unlucky case that cannot be helped.
"If you really are that miserable, why don't you kill yourself?" Was a joke I once heard. But I do wonder, why not? Do I have to keep living for other people? It's not an enticing idea.
Perhaps things might get better and I am still very young. But i've been struggling with suicidal ideation and depression since longer than I myself was even aware. And i've been getting help from so many different people for soooooo long. I just want to sleep.
There comes a point where someone will start questioning whether or not the help they're getting does even work at all.
I'm quite frankly of feeling isolated from the people I love. I'm tired of always having to look over my shoulder. And i'm especially tired of having these breakdowns.
I've always been a huge procrastinator, and I feel it even extends to my eventual suicide.
The amount of times i've put my head through the noose to only chicken out.
Perhaps a part of me is afraid? Maybe it's just a case of my deeply entrenched survival instincts trying to spare me?
Who's to say that these survival instincts and my fear of death aren't the irrational aspects of me in this situation? Am I simply not being pragmatic for wanting to make an end to my misery this way?
"These things pass. You'll get better." Do they? Is it not reasonable for me to think that after 10+ years of feeling awful and getting psychiatric help that things might not get better. Not everyone is as lucky as me to be getting all this help, yet it's going nowhere.
I thought it might be ironic to hang myself on my birthday which is soon. I've always felt having a sense of humour about things is important. Even if my jokes tend to be underlaid with an obvious bitterness.
I strongly believe people are made up of two parts; a sort of logical objective part and an emotional subjective part. Both are equally valuable but there can be an imbalance.
Objectively I know not everyone on this planet I meet hates me. I know not everyone is secretly conspiring against me. (Kind of unlikely.) In fact, I believe most people have good intentions (note: good intentions don't always lead to good or 'moral' actions though). But subjectively, these anxieties always manage to creep up on me. I over-analyze every single thing in every single interaction I have with people. A simple roll with the eyes may lead to me intuitively recontextualizing every single interaction i've had with that person in a negative light.
I try to push back against these, let's be frank, delusions. But they're so dominating. The connections I have with people is one of the few things i like to pride myself on. But what even is the point of talking to my friends if at the end of the day i'll end up feeling miserable.
It's especially not fair of me towards other people. I feel i'm very lucky with my sizeable group of friends, and with the kinds of people that are included in it.
I do want to say I still think going to therapy is a good thing for most people. But maybe i'm just an unlucky case that cannot be helped.
"If you really are that miserable, why don't you kill yourself?" Was a joke I once heard. But I do wonder, why not? Do I have to keep living for other people? It's not an enticing idea.
Perhaps things might get better and I am still very young. But i've been struggling with suicidal ideation and depression since longer than I myself was even aware. And i've been getting help from so many different people for soooooo long. I just want to sleep.
There comes a point where someone will start questioning whether or not the help they're getting does even work at all.
I'm quite frankly of feeling isolated from the people I love. I'm tired of always having to look over my shoulder. And i'm especially tired of having these breakdowns.
I've always been a huge procrastinator, and I feel it even extends to my eventual suicide.
The amount of times i've put my head through the noose to only chicken out.
Perhaps a part of me is afraid? Maybe it's just a case of my deeply entrenched survival instincts trying to spare me?
Who's to say that these survival instincts and my fear of death aren't the irrational aspects of me in this situation? Am I simply not being pragmatic for wanting to make an end to my misery this way?
"These things pass. You'll get better." Do they? Is it not reasonable for me to think that after 10+ years of feeling awful and getting psychiatric help that things might not get better. Not everyone is as lucky as me to be getting all this help, yet it's going nowhere.
I thought it might be ironic to hang myself on my birthday which is soon. I've always felt having a sense of humour about things is important. Even if my jokes tend to be underlaid with an obvious bitterness.