state of me = bleh
Jan. 30th, 2015 12:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ysobelTW: depression and suicidal ideation
I feel like I’m at the end or my rope right now. Well, no: I feel like I ran out of rope a long time ago and don’t even know which direction it is.
It’s not anything specific. It’s not like I am having a crisis. I’m just ... It’s like I know the world is supposed to be rainbows and puppies and kitties and unicorns and stuff
(See, aren’t I a fabulous artist)
And instead what I see is this
(That word is supposed to be “sssuck”, because in my head the black tentackey things with teeth are rather sibilant when they talk, but my fingerpainted handwriting is imperfect)
and I just get fucking tired of even trying to fight
it’s not even like I’m doing anything right now. I spend a large chunk of the day browsing ravelry and Dreamwidth and Tumblr (but not really interacting much) and just sort of killing time until bedtime; I haven’t touched yarn, I haven’t done any crocheting or looming, I haven’t gotten my mom the info on what yarn to get me for my Christmas present (it was an IOU pending details on what exactly I wanted), I haven’t been doing robotics, I haven’t been watching netflix, I haven’t been reading books, I haven’t been playing any of my games, I haven’t written, I haven’t …. anything. I’m just a big useless blob of fail.
I know some of that is my inner critic (who is very vocal and very mean) and a lot is depression and stuff, but it’s hard to fight when it’s the only thing there.
And when I get like this (begin TW-suicidal section) it’s hard to fight off the “I want to die” voice, and hard to rephrase it as “I want my life to be better”. It’s not like I’m in any real danger, since there is no way I can kill myself without someone else’s help, and I’m not going to do that to anyone, but that almost makes the thoughts more seductive. And I can make lists of reasons to stay alive -- everything from the minion movie coming out, to you guys, to Yahtzee, to wanting to watch my niecelet grow up -- but depression doesn’t listen to lists or logics. Depression says there is nothing but blackness and pain in the world, my inner critic says that I’m a total waste of space and or other peoples’ time and efforts, society says I’m useless...
I just want to stop hurting. Except that’ll never happen. Because FOP is incurable and depression is incurable and being lazy and useless is incurable, and hating myself is incurable, and I’m just too broken to be fixed.
I feel like I’m at the end or my rope right now. Well, no: I feel like I ran out of rope a long time ago and don’t even know which direction it is.
It’s not anything specific. It’s not like I am having a crisis. I’m just ... It’s like I know the world is supposed to be rainbows and puppies and kitties and unicorns and stuff
(See, aren’t I a fabulous artist)
And instead what I see is this
(That word is supposed to be “sssuck”, because in my head the black tentackey things with teeth are rather sibilant when they talk, but my fingerpainted handwriting is imperfect)
and I just get fucking tired of even trying to fight
it’s not even like I’m doing anything right now. I spend a large chunk of the day browsing ravelry and Dreamwidth and Tumblr (but not really interacting much) and just sort of killing time until bedtime; I haven’t touched yarn, I haven’t done any crocheting or looming, I haven’t gotten my mom the info on what yarn to get me for my Christmas present (it was an IOU pending details on what exactly I wanted), I haven’t been doing robotics, I haven’t been watching netflix, I haven’t been reading books, I haven’t been playing any of my games, I haven’t written, I haven’t …. anything. I’m just a big useless blob of fail.
I know some of that is my inner critic (who is very vocal and very mean) and a lot is depression and stuff, but it’s hard to fight when it’s the only thing there.
And when I get like this (begin TW-suicidal section) it’s hard to fight off the “I want to die” voice, and hard to rephrase it as “I want my life to be better”. It’s not like I’m in any real danger, since there is no way I can kill myself without someone else’s help, and I’m not going to do that to anyone, but that almost makes the thoughts more seductive. And I can make lists of reasons to stay alive -- everything from the minion movie coming out, to you guys, to Yahtzee, to wanting to watch my niecelet grow up -- but depression doesn’t listen to lists or logics. Depression says there is nothing but blackness and pain in the world, my inner critic says that I’m a total waste of space and or other peoples’ time and efforts, society says I’m useless...
I just want to stop hurting. Except that’ll never happen. Because FOP is incurable and depression is incurable and being lazy and useless is incurable, and hating myself is incurable, and I’m just too broken to be fixed.