Posted

Oct 14th 2008

Mood

Blank

Ah, so, fourth day on medication. No more freakouts, just some occasional nausea and a considerable loss in appetite.




You know. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all.

I feel... Awake. Alive.

For months, I've spent almost every bit of spare time I've had in bed. I would get home from school exhausted, collapse under my blankets in the dark, and pass out. Sometimes crying myself to sleep from the constant horrible thoughts that just got intensified by school.

Nobody understood why I never did my schoolwork, why I usually slept or half slept all through class, why I was so quiet and withdrawn, why I always got to school thirty minutes late.

I was close to being kicked out, or just not getting credit for my first period classes. I got called to the office twice and talked to by the assistant principal. I got lectured constantly by some of my teachers and peers.




You need to pull yourself together.

You're throwing your life away.

Why is it that all the other students can do their work and focus and listen, but you just... can't?

Do you even care?

You know, you don't have to be here. If you don't care, you should just drop out right now.

Why did you drop out of all your honors classes?

Too much for you? You know you can do it. You're smart. You were the smartest kid in my class last year, by far. You can do anything you put your mind to.

What are you going to do with your life?

You have no idea? Nowhere you want to go? Nothing you want to be?

You're just lazy.

Irresponsible.

You need to grow up.






You know why it's so hard for me to get out of bed in the morning?


For years and years, I would absolutely dread pulling my worthless self out of bed to face the torment of another day.

All the yelling. The argueing. The constant hate and being put down and ridiculed. The misunderstanding. The deafening silence of absolute lonliness. The mistakes of my past haunting me like the worst of nightmares. The guilt. The fear. The failure.

I had no one. Nothing. I was nothing. I was disgusting and pitiful and pathetic. I would never accomplish anything or amount to anything. I was pointless and meaningless and worthless.

I wanted nothing more than to disappear. To be hit by a bus. To be knifed to death in a back alley. To just stop breathing. Stop living. Just. Stop. Everything. Just stop.



Now, I got out of that, with some help from some very good friends. I don't think they ever really realized what they did for me.

I've been away from that hole for about three years now.

But even so... being down in that for so long... does things to you.

That mindset of just living like I'm dying... It's kept on and on. All the feelings of worthlessness and failure. The constant sadness and hopelessness and fear and apathy. The dread of getting out of bed to face another day.

Most of the time I didn't even know why I felt that way anymore. I had no reason to. But I just... couldn't rid myself of it. It had been ingrained into my core personality since childhood. I couldn't make it stop if I tried.

With senior year and all the stress and confusion of going out into the real world, I started to crash again.

I don't know what I want to do. What I want to be. I have zero self-esteem and self-confidence. I'm absolutely terrified of screwing up or failure or rejection.

That's why I don't try. I'm too scared to fail.

That's why I don't care. Because caring is what threw me into such a hole all those years ago.

These aren't the only reasons for all this, but it's one of the main ones.

I was just so lost and confused and scared. I didn't know what to do or who to turn to. So I started to crash again. I withdrew, I stopped caring, I stopped living. I couldn't get away from all these oppressive feelings. Everything just kept closing in on me. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see or think or anything.



People don't understand what it's like to have a chemical disorder like this.

The clinically depressed can no more simply "pull themselves together" than a diabetic can simply will their pancreas to create more insulin.

I would try and try and try to pull myself out. To make myself care. To make myself do something.

But I was stuck. I was missing something.

It's like... I had been so sad for so long that my brain just... Broke. I couldn't care anymore. I couldn't be happy anymore. I couldn't live anymore.


But it really seems like the medication is helping. I almost feel like I can see again. It's not really as much of a miracle as I would've hoped, but it's certainly done a lot to wake me up. This is the first time in so long that I haven't felt like sleeping all day. That I haven't been weighed down by that awful sadness and apathy and fear. I feel like I can breathe.


Of course, all this lifting of mood is also due to a certain someone as well. You know who you are. And I hope you know how much you've done for me. How happy you make me. I would never be the person I am today if it weren't for you. I can never thank you enough for showing me what true happiness is like.



Hopefully I'll continue to recover. I can't wait to live.