Barely surviving
I was listening to this audiobook called F*ck Feelings by a doctor and his comedienne daughter. In the book, it said life is hard and we should give ourselves props (oh, God, I'm so old.) for making it through the days getting dressed, eating, and going to work. Initially, I was like, thank the Lord. Someone understands that we aren't all Beyonce or Kevin Hart. Aside: I sincerely wonder if Kevin Hart is on drugs because he does so much STUFF. How? How? I have no energy to get myself out of bed on a regular basis and he's doing 12 movies a year, a stand up tour, getting married, AND raising kids! Anyway, after my initial excitement at finding out that someone thinks life is hard and everyday small victories should be celebrated, I realized that is terrible. Should there really be humans on the planet who, decade after decade, have to applaud themselves on sliding out the bed just to feel any bit of happiness? I know, I know. Most people will think there's no way someone goes decade after decade feeling this way. Let me raise my hand. Uh, yes, there are.
I have found notebooks, every so often, that I used as journals from years ago, and basically since I was 13 years old I have felt the same way. I'm mad that I'm shackled with a life I don't want. Mad that people with suicidal urges (or who actually go through with it) get called cowards and selfish. Depressed because I can't just get it over with because I am too worried about my family and so called friends being traumatized.
Let me tell a quick couple of stories for background on my support system. My older sister and I live together. We came together over a year ago to cut down on bills and get rid of some of our debt. After I had, what we can just call, a mental break down, I went to my doctor to have her sign off on me taking some time off of work. The doctor signed off on it so I was off the hook of going to work for a couple of months. My sister, who I live with, didn't notice that I hadn't been, for the most part, leaving my bed until the third almost fourth week of my leave. Do you know what she finally said? "Why haven't you been going to work?" I replied that I was on leave. She then asked was it paid leave. When I talked to my best friend later that night she said, "So, she didn't ask why you were on leave or if you were ok???" Clearly, my best friend doesn't fully comprehend what I mean when I say I have no support system. Of course she didn't ask that! As long as I'm paying my part of the bills, dead or alive, healthy or at death's door, why would she care? She wouldn't, is the answer.
When I was a child, my grandmother took in my mother's 5 children to avoid us getting sent to an orphanage. Admirable thing, right? Well, not quite. I went to live with her when I was 4 years old and the brother next up was 8. My brother was what one would probably call a pre-sociopath. He had all types of issues and still does. Maybe he wasn't a sociopath, but he's something not on the regular empathetic scale. Anyway, so he was a monster and my grandma was thinking of sending him away (I believe). My dear brother decided it was time for my then 5 year old self to learn the facts of life. He told me that if he got sent away that I would get sent away too, just by association. Imagine my horror getting lumped in with a fool getting sent to the funny farm. I ran to my grandmother to get reassurances that this would never befall me. My 5 year old self soon found out the hard way, that family isn't all that it's cracked up to be. My grandmother told me, that if I had to get sent upstream with my nutty brother, so be it.
Interestingly enough, I have yet to find people who don't disappoint me in some crucial way. Best friend not included for the most part. For example, no one in my life knows where I live except the sister I live with and one other friend who I'm not sure could find the place in case of an emergency. Not the address, not the town, not the block. So, I really don't like being bound by their expectations of me when on any given day I could slip, crack my head and puncture a lung in the shower, and no one would know until my sister came on my side to wash her clothes the following week.
One thing I have learned is that, if you can't trust your family, then you can't trust anyone. Except where the fuck does that leave you? The therapist I dumped told me that essentially by wanting to and having reasons to quit life makes me sound like a whiny victim and no one likes a complainer. Thanks so much, crappy therapist. If I can't whine to you for a small fee, then who can I whine to? I guess you guys.
I will close with the same thing I left my best friend with: I'm off to try and stave off depression and suicide. Later.
P.S. I'm into books and movies. I totally recommend Dr. Strange if you like superhero movies.
I have found notebooks, every so often, that I used as journals from years ago, and basically since I was 13 years old I have felt the same way. I'm mad that I'm shackled with a life I don't want. Mad that people with suicidal urges (or who actually go through with it) get called cowards and selfish. Depressed because I can't just get it over with because I am too worried about my family and so called friends being traumatized.
Let me tell a quick couple of stories for background on my support system. My older sister and I live together. We came together over a year ago to cut down on bills and get rid of some of our debt. After I had, what we can just call, a mental break down, I went to my doctor to have her sign off on me taking some time off of work. The doctor signed off on it so I was off the hook of going to work for a couple of months. My sister, who I live with, didn't notice that I hadn't been, for the most part, leaving my bed until the third almost fourth week of my leave. Do you know what she finally said? "Why haven't you been going to work?" I replied that I was on leave. She then asked was it paid leave. When I talked to my best friend later that night she said, "So, she didn't ask why you were on leave or if you were ok???" Clearly, my best friend doesn't fully comprehend what I mean when I say I have no support system. Of course she didn't ask that! As long as I'm paying my part of the bills, dead or alive, healthy or at death's door, why would she care? She wouldn't, is the answer.
When I was a child, my grandmother took in my mother's 5 children to avoid us getting sent to an orphanage. Admirable thing, right? Well, not quite. I went to live with her when I was 4 years old and the brother next up was 8. My brother was what one would probably call a pre-sociopath. He had all types of issues and still does. Maybe he wasn't a sociopath, but he's something not on the regular empathetic scale. Anyway, so he was a monster and my grandma was thinking of sending him away (I believe). My dear brother decided it was time for my then 5 year old self to learn the facts of life. He told me that if he got sent away that I would get sent away too, just by association. Imagine my horror getting lumped in with a fool getting sent to the funny farm. I ran to my grandmother to get reassurances that this would never befall me. My 5 year old self soon found out the hard way, that family isn't all that it's cracked up to be. My grandmother told me, that if I had to get sent upstream with my nutty brother, so be it.
Interestingly enough, I have yet to find people who don't disappoint me in some crucial way. Best friend not included for the most part. For example, no one in my life knows where I live except the sister I live with and one other friend who I'm not sure could find the place in case of an emergency. Not the address, not the town, not the block. So, I really don't like being bound by their expectations of me when on any given day I could slip, crack my head and puncture a lung in the shower, and no one would know until my sister came on my side to wash her clothes the following week.
One thing I have learned is that, if you can't trust your family, then you can't trust anyone. Except where the fuck does that leave you? The therapist I dumped told me that essentially by wanting to and having reasons to quit life makes me sound like a whiny victim and no one likes a complainer. Thanks so much, crappy therapist. If I can't whine to you for a small fee, then who can I whine to? I guess you guys.
I will close with the same thing I left my best friend with: I'm off to try and stave off depression and suicide. Later.
P.S. I'm into books and movies. I totally recommend Dr. Strange if you like superhero movies.
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