My week

Somehow I made it to all my classes today, all I can do at this point is to remember how completely hopeless I’ll be if I don’t get this degree. There’s no explaining away a 2.5 year gap in work history when you’re in your 20’s and it’s not because you have kids to look after or anything so reasonable.

I haven’t spoken to anyone in person yet. Not since I said goodnight to my mum on Sunday night. I still can’t believe how people say so much more than me. I watched a program on TV the other day about a device that you can wear and it takes a picture every 30 seconds or when it detects motion and can build up an image of how you spend your time and uses artificial intelligence to pick out “events”. The researchers think they might be able to use this to improve AI in some way or other. It struck me as I watched it how incredibly boring my life is. I only ever go to the same places. The past 3 years for example, I would expect was spent 80% in my bedroom at home. I really haven’t lived a day in my life. 

I no longer think of myself as a real person. Sometimes if I see people having fun or just doing some mundane activity and I think that I’d like to have people who I could spend time with, I’m overcome with a feeling that it is stupid of me to feel that way. It’s even worse if I see a girl who I find attractive, I feel embarrassment that I entertained the notion that I could be liked, even for a split second. That’s for real people, not me.

I won’t name names, but even reading about other people who have mental illness leaves me feeling downhearted and envious sometimes. It’s too late for me to start being normal now. There is absolutely no reason why anyone would like me, I don’t even like myself, I hate myself. Why would anyone be friends with someone who feels such self loathing? 

I won’t pretend to be wise or anything of the sort, but when I sat in class the other day and watched the people in front of me laughing and joking around, I felt like an old man. It’s so long since I’ve actually had a period in my life where I enjoyed being around others, it seems impossible now. When I was a child, before people became concerned with social status and how badly associating with such a freakish looking loser affects it, I used to have a few friends. In a way, I feel stuck in that stage of life. I didn’t grow emotionally beyond the age of about 11.

When I think about how pathetic it is for a “man” in his mid-20s to be so inexperienced, it makes me want to cry (which I do far more often than I should). I remember reading the agony aunt pages in my sisters magazines when I was younger, kids writing in about how they were worried about their first kiss and how they didn’t know what to do. It’s so achingly pathetic that someone can reach my age and still have the same social obstacles to overcome. Not that I worry much about that itself any more, even if I do live much longer it’s not like I’ll have to deal with that awkwardness.

I carry this shame around with me 24 hours a day. I know people can see it in my face. I am terrified to put myself in a situation where the subject of relationships or whatever you want to call it, comes up. It’s not hard to tell from my narrow eyed, red skinned, freckly mess of a face that I’ve never been within 2 feet of a girl. I cringe if I’m ever around a conversation about such matters. On the first night I was here at uni, my flatmates asked each other if they had boy/girlfriends back at home, luckily they were tactful enough to not ask me, but I felt panic rush through my veins anyway.

To most people the 40 Year Old Virgin is a hilarious concept, but for me it’s my future. I can’t let it get that far, I won’t. Non-existence is preferable to me than becoming an even greater laughing stock and ever more lonely and twisted.

High Places

Every time I walk to classes I see that high apartment block calling me over. I want to climb to the 10th floor balcony and drop knowing I’ll have at least a few seconds of release.

I don’t know what to do. It seems like I should talk to someone, but who and what should I say? I don’t know if I want to be talked out of it.

What to do when you can’t talk to anyone

Before she left, I asked my psychiatrist what I should do when I feel like this. Like nothing can help me and all I want is an end to it all. I’ve got the number for the crisis team but seeing as how one of the main problems I have with my SA is a fear of making phone calls (even simple things like ordering a pizza are out of the question and when I’m forced into making one, it takes me a long time to psych myself up enough to do it and I spend hours obsessing over how foolish I must have sounded afterwards) I just can’t bring myself to do it. I can’t lay bare my dismal view of myself and how bad the future seems, knowing what a privileged life I have. I’m not beaten up by my parents, I have a roof over my head. What business do I have being this depressed?

I talk to some people that I know online, but I don’t want to burden them with the full extent of my suicidal mood. If I had the pills right now, I’d be taking them. There’s no way I can scare my mum by talking to her. She almost had a fit and made me come back from university the last time the subject was even mentioned.

There’s a big link between social anxiety/phobia and depression, it’s easy to become depressed when you have no contact with other humans, and it’s even easier to lose hope when it seems you have no-one to help you when times are hard. I’m not even sure I want to be helped though, I just want an escape.

I wish they didn’t care

so I could disappear without a trace. I’m tired of feeling guilty around my family. I’m tired of scaring them.

I’m alive, just.

I think far too much. I know that last week, during the time I was at university I said less than 10 words to people. Nothing beyond meaningless greetings and empty thanks. I’ve fallen back into old habits in some ways, I listen through doors to make my getaway while no-one is around to stop me and enter into the awkwardness of a corridor conversation. I still have no friends in any of my classes and I move further from that with every passing day. I’ve spoken to someone on facebook but they don’t even acknowledge my existence in real life, probably to ashamed to let it be known they ever associated with me. I miss meals, hoard glasses and rubbish for days before daring to emerge from my hideaway.

I’m stuck. Apparently they don’t want to take me on for CBT until the suicidal thoughts stop. I don’t know how I can stop them if I can’t make any progress with these problems, assuming it’s all (or at least a major part) in my head like people keep telling me. I’m not so sure about that, I think people are just reluctant (or contractually bound not to) tell me that I’m a hideous looking screw up who is far too damaged to ever have a chance at being acceptable to people. Now I am in a dilemma, either I lie to my psychiatrist and hope CBT comes through soon, or I tell the truth and get nowhere. They can’t help me except by cramming pills down my throat but that doesn’t fix anything. I can’t call the crisis team, I’m not having a crisis. I don’t think there’s a line for people that slowly but surely fucked their lives up completely and are beginning to realise that it is far too late and a life of solitary misery is all that awaits them.

The usual disclaimer about me knowing how fortunate I am and how lucky I am compared to 99% of the world applies. I feel guilty about it every day already, don’t try to make me feel worse.

Getting “help”

I’ve all but given up on making this blog useful, apologies if you came here expecting something helpful.

I had another psychiatrist appointment last week. I faced the dilemma that many people with mental illness have to deal with; whether to say the right things, jump through their metaphorical hoops and and take the easy way out, or whether to face up to the hard task of telling it how it is and facing the consequences of that. Last time I took the first approach, she seemed quite pleased with the progress I was making. In the days leading up to my latest appointment though, I’ve been feeling extremely hopeless and suicidal again. It often seems to disappear as soon as I get the chance to talk to someone about it and I feel like I’m being overly dramatic by bringing it up but this time I was determined to speak the truth about it.

I haven’t been feeling the desperation that I did before, I don’t feel the need to go out there this minute and do it, it’s more of a realisation what my life is going to be like. The horrible truth hangs over me every day, reinforced more and more with every failed social interaction, every rejection, every person staring and laughing. I feel crushing jealousy as I see people with friends, even glancing at groups studying together brings out a great sadness in me. I am totally alone here, and everywhere except in my home. I can no longer see how I’m going to get past the fact that I am hopelessly socially retarded, my appearance scares people and I am incredibly boring. There’s too much to overcome before anyone would even be remotely interested in knowing me, never mind the fact that I’ve already established myself as the weirdo loner here. It could be worse, at least I know a couple of people’s names, but I never dare interrupt their groups to talk to them, even if I could think of something to say.

I managed to tell the psychiatrist that I have been having the thoughts again and then of course I had to talk to the terrifying consultant. He’s incredibly intense, always staring and picks apart everything you say. I already over analyse the way I say every single thing to make sure it’s no misinterpreted but he sends me into overdrive. It can take me 30 seconds to answer a simple question, I get scared he’s going to get angry at what I say, especially after he smashed his fist on the table after I deigned to ask about anti-anxiety medication. The end result of it all was that he didn’t seem to think I was serious about it and just upped my venlafaxine to 225mg and said I’d benefit from one to one psychotherapy. I was referred a couple of months ago but still haven’t heard anything.

I don’t know what to do with myself now. I wish it was possible to transfer a confident person into my situation (of course no normal person would be in this position in the first place) and see what they’d do. I simply have no idea. I could carry on going to lectures, sitting alone and speaking to no-one for practically the entire week. I’m scared of the people my flatmates bring around here, I’ve missed several meals because I’ve been too afraid to leave my room and go into the loud, social atmosphere of the kitchen.

I’m so screwed up, laughter scares me now. If I here a group of people (especially men) laughing it just triggers a fear response inside me. I suppose it’s some kind of Pavlovian response after all the years of mocking and torment but I wish I didn’t feel like it. I don’t have a clue how I’m ever going to be normal*.

* Now I know the usual response to this is that “nobody is normal” or normal people aren’t interesting, but that’s not what I mean. I think most people would agree it is pretty normal to have at least one friend. It’s reasonably normal to be capable of going out somewhere without being crippled by fear of being laughed at and humiliated. I’d love to have someone to talk to, who I didn’t feel like I had to put on a show just to seem like less of a freak to.

I was asked some difficult questions by the consultant; “Have you ever had any close friends?” Not since I was a young child. He asked about when I was about 15; “Lads have mates who they go out and do ‘lad’ things with” he said. Not me. I had people I hung around with in school because I was too scared to leave them (they bullied me as much or worse than the other people) but I never had the slightest desire to spend any more time than absolutely necessary with them. I never saw them outside of school. I’ve been a loner for the vast majority of my life, but that isn’t how I want to be. I’d say the problem is probably made worse by two enormous problems. First, I am not the kind of person people like. I’m no fun to be around, I’m far too quiet and I don’t like drunkenness and parties, I look hideous, I’m probably too arrogant and élitist in my own introverted way. Second, I lack the basic skills that seem to come naturally to other people, probably through trial and error when they were younger and social faux-pas weren’t as heavily punished. I find it incredibly hard to explain just how little I know about how to interact with people, a lot of people think they are “shy” or whatever, but I’ve not come across many as socially maladjusted as me. I know nothing about what people do, I know they don’t spend every waking hour reading or on the computer like me but all I have for reference is what I see on TV and in movies (which I do realise aren’t realistic, by the way). I feel completely out of place as a human adult.