Weakness

I’m weak. I know I shouldn’t have done it but I ordered the pills. Not entirely sure when it became a question of “when” rather than “if” but I feel like I need them with me. They’d probably consider me very ill if they knew how much research I’d done into such a morbid and destructive topic.

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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.

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.

2009

Another year, I’m surprised that I made it this far. This time last year I was just beginning the journey down the NHS mental health system and it seems to have taken a lot of effort to actually get somewhere, despite the fact that my problems have been enough to personally concern several of the staff I’ve been in contact with. 

I keep looking at the amitriptyline, can I swallow that many pills? The prospect of being 24 and still in this situation is not a pleasant one and it’s rapidly approaching. People seem to act like if you want to kill yourself, you must have something deeply wrong with your brain, or more frequently, that you are just looking for attention. Trust me, I’ve spent more hours of my life avoiding attention than just about anything else. I don’t understand why living is so great, if I had the choice to have not been born, I’d take it in an instant. Nothing happens to make the pain and sadness worth suffering through.

Is living 80-something years of unsatisfying drudgery so laudable? I can’t remember a time in my adult (or adolescent) life that I’ve been happy and I see no reason that will change. The more I discover about life and how harsh and unforgiving it is, the more I want to escape its unrelenting grip. I’ve only ever been happy when I’ve been sheltered from reality. Not knowing what people are like in the real world. I can’t survive outside my protective bubble, much less experience happiness.

It’s generally accepted that it’s harder to make friends as you get older, and I’m almost 14 years without having made one now. Things aren’t going to get any easier. I’m too far behind to ever be normal, too socially retarded and emotionally undeveloped. 

People try to tell me it’s not too late and things can change. I don’t know whether it’s petty of me, but the idea that sometime in the future, maybe 20 years from now, I might be able to make a solitary friend is not really a comfort. I don’t want to be a middle aged loser still living at home and catching the bus. The kind of person people avoid sitting next to and certainly would never want to converse with.

I hope the new year brings happiness for whoever reads this, I’m doubtful that it will for me.