The Aftermath


It’s been an eventful day. I got up early and set out to a place I haven’t been before which is always scary for me. I didn’t know where to get off the bus, but since I was the only person on it I managed to ask the driver if she’d tell me when we got to the right stop. That’s a minor achievement in itself for me.  I waited around for half an hour (I’m terrified of being late so always set out early) getting more and more nervous about it but the assessment actually went fairly smoothly.

He asked the same questions that were on the form they sent, I guess they want to make sure you aren’t making it up or something.  I had trouble talking about what I think is wrong with my appearance, just managing to blurt out a muffled “everything”. He think he got a pretty good idea of what my problems are and he said that I should give CBT a try, even though it will be hard. I agreed but in my heart I’m not sure about it.

He advised me to look at the book, the one everyone recommends for SA and I have already read and unsuccessfully tried to put into practice. I don’t think there are many more options out there for someone as monumentally messed up as me. He asked some general questions about me which were kind of awkward to answer. I pretty much spill my guts on this blog, words are far easier to type than to say and I’m fairly anonymous here. “No, I don’t have any friends. No, I have never had a romantic relationship. No, I haven’t had sex. No, I don’t have any hobbies or interests, I just spend my time alone”. I told him I’d been suicidal recently and that it’s because I fear that things will always be like this and he said that he didn’t think they will. I have no idea what that’s based on though.

Apparently I need to stop berating myself and telling myself that I’m a freak and weird. I can’t help it though and I don’t know how to stop. It’s not a conscious thing, it just comes to me throughout the day. It’s a belief I have about myself that has been proven time and again. It’s as true to me as much as I believe that I’m male and I speak English. I don’t know how to “deprogram” myself from thinking what is essentially true. I can see how it starts the cycle of negative thinking and makes things worse, but I just don’t know how to stop. They say what evidence is there of these negative beliefs, I can find hundreds of examples. I wonder what they’ll say when I tell them that…

In any case, I should have a therapist arranged soon who I will see “every one to three weeks”. I’m doing the best I can at the moment to stick to the “proper” way of doing things. I can feel myself slipping though. It’s like I’m leading a double life. One minute I’m telling people of my desire to change and work at becoming more confident in social situations and the next I’m picking out the best spot to throw myself to my death.

I planned to go back to uni this evening after I’d had dinner at home but after I trekked all the way into town again in the snow, my stupid train was cancelled and I’ve had to come all the way back. I’ll miss at least one workshop tomorrow and I’m considering just emailing in and explaining the situation so I can take my time getting back there. It’s frustrating because although I like being at home and I don’t feel confined to one particular room like I am at university, I have begun to embrace some aspects of my independence. As I said in a previous post, it’s gets tiring pretending that everything is A-OK all the time.

As my dad drove me through town I looked up at a multistorey carpark, the highest accessible building I’ve found yet. It tempted me to think the bad thoughts again. The thoughts which are my only comfort these days. All that makes me relax and feel less desperate is thinking about how I might not have to suffer being this repulsive, maladjusted loser for much longer.  I emailed Samaritans a while ago and told them how I feel, they don’t really help much apart from providing me with some much needed human communication. I don’t really want to be talked out of it with well-worn platitudes. I don’t have much to live for, I have no friends whose lives I’ll affect.

People call suicide a selfish act, but how is it any less selfish for people to expect you to live a miserable, worthless life of no consequence or joy in order to spare their own feelings? Just because they don’t want to be exposed to the fact that their son or brother is beyond repair.


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