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  • Life, humans, anxiety, and depression.
    Yikes, longer rant than I expected...

    If I'm not mistaken, you're allowed to rant here, and I need to let out some steam (not the fart-type steam, mind you), so here I go.

    Quick background; I'm a male.

    The problems; I have chronic migraines, depression, social anxiety, and you can probably guess how much crap this leads to in my general life.

    Several years ago I lost a good friend, as in he stopped talking to me, period. This was a friend of mine since kindergarten, and losing your best high school buddy is pretty traumatic, I'm sure most know from experience.

    So this got me pretty upset, I reconnected with an old friend, life is (still) moving on.

    But something started happening after that fateful year, I noticed a very... noticeable decrease in my mood. As in, I felt like shit.

    It just gets worse and worse from there. I don't feel like doing anything, I don't do anything, "boo-hoo, I wanna stab my eyes out", depression. You get it. Hinders you from pursuing goals, screws up motivations, blah, blah, blah.

    I've always had migraines, and they'll get really (really) bad several times a year. The back of my neck starts throbbing something vicious (which is also a dull pain I constantly have) and then my brain slowly crumples in upon itself like a dying star before boom -- I'm pretty much screwed for the rest of the day at that point. Thankfully this is only 3-4 times a year; but it's the constant, dull pain I always have that gets to me.

    Social anxiety is fun, right! Right?

    No, no it most certainly is not.

    I don't need advice here, I've heard it all. I know that I shouldn't feel the way I do, or get these rare panicky episodes. I know I shouldn't forget how to use my legs when walking around people. I shouldn't sweat, choke on my tongue, trip on my words. I shouldn't, but yea, I do.

    My parents wouldn't understand -- they don't understand. "Just get over it", "Try harder", "Ignore it", "Just don't think about it",

    Yea, okay.

    But I know, I can't blame them. I don't expect support from them anymore, nor do I from friends or siblings. They're my problems, not theirs. They have their own.

    My parents hate each other, oh why, why, why why don't they just divorce? Hell, you've gotten to the point of death threats, throwing things around, and calling the cops. Why don't you get it over with?

    Bring your children into it, right!

    "You see what you're doing to your child?! Do you even care?!"

    No, you don't see it, NEITHER of you do. YOU are the ones hurting your 13-year-old daughter, YOU are the ones shoving this real-world bull into her face. YOU don't understand.

    But oh, ranting on here won't help. It'll help me emotionally, it already is. My hands are shaking, I can hardly let it out fast enough.

    It tears me apart to see them scream and shout at one another, while my sister is standing there in the middle of it. Trying to ignore it. And I'm too much of a coward to do anything about it.

    I'm a coward.

    I'm depressed. Anxious. In constant, blotting, god-damned, pain. And I'm a coward.

    I have a job interview in just a few days, I'll hide and cover up these little emotional scratches, all the first-world-problems going on in my life. I do feel anxious about talking throughout the interview, but it won't be too bad.

    Expect the pressure. The pressure makes it worse. I'd do fine just by myself.

    "Speak clearly, speak up, don't slouch," What? Do I do those things all the time? Is it really that noticeable? Is it so horrible, so easily see-able as wrong?

    Oh well, I'll get through it.

    I'm angry I guess, and sad, a bit lost, even.

    I can't confide in anyone. Hell! I've decided to finally rant it out on a random online forum I found while surfing the web.

    I want to make a living off of my fiction, I want to be a writer. I'm well on my way too, it's really coming along. But then, those crappy days come when I ask myself, "What the hell are you doing? You really think you can do this? You think you can keep the motivation? You think you're good enough? Do you, really?"

    Ah, I suppose not.

    But I press on, and in the end it really is worth it. In the end I can look back and say, "I got through it, I knew it would work out in the end."

    I always told myself that when I was little, when I didn't want to do that chore, when I didn't think what I was doing had a point.

    "You'll get through it, you'll be better off when you get out. It gets better, it'll be better. It always works out."

    Somewhere between childhood and adult-hood, the phrase sort of... lost meaning. It was lost into my thought, and I forgot it. Then I slipped, fell, tumbled, broke bones. And god damn, do I feel like hell sometimes.

    I'd like to say that I understand the human condition, that I understand... or, believe, that at the end of the road there won't be anything. The point is to enjoy life, to find meaning in it. But it's so hard to enjoy... and if I don't have my pills, my pain meds, I can't enjoy it. It's impossible.

    "You're overreacting."

    No, depression is real. So is anxiety. And pain, pain is too.

    I stopped lying to myself a long time ago, and that was a step forward. I stopped telling myself that I was being a fool, that I needed to "man-up", to stop being such a "wuss." Self-hate, self-loathing. Hell, self-harm.

    School never made it easier. "Oh, I can't wait until I get out. It's going to be better, it really is!"

    But it didn't get better.

    I'm fed up with it, I really am. And when I just sit there, lying in bed, staring at my dull, gray ceiling. I think, "What is the point? People make me happy, but it's fleeting. It goes away. I get tired of them. It's not... permanent. A drug, is what it is. A temporary fix to a problem that I can't fix."

    "But you can fix it!"

    Therapy, drugs, help. Help?

    Right, help.

    I think about my sisters, my mom and my dad; who hate each other. My friends, what friends I have. And I know, if they weren't there, I would gladly end it. Oh, wouldn't I. But I can't.

    I can't hurt them like that. Even though they don't understand, don't see the prison that I'm in. The stupid trap that I can't haul myself out of.

    It won't matter if I do though. In the void, I would be nothing but oblivious. But, sadly, it would matter.

    The pain, the anxiety, the depression, the lack of will to move on.

    I guess that did help, ranting does help. My foul emotions, they sorta flowed from me. And I fell a little happy even.

    I know, it's fleeting.

    I try to tell myself, strive for the moments of happiness. That one day a week, those few hours a month. It's worth it! But my mind, my stupid, stupid mind convinces me that it isn't. At least, it doesn't feel like it.

    Oh woe to me if I didn't have these pills to keep the worst of the pain at bay, and my emotions in check. They're not an addiction. They're a need. Something I can't live without.

    Is this a cry for help?


    It's a rant, mister!

    But talking with you guys, at least for the few days this post is seen, I think it would help. It's not my last straw, certainly not. Because in the end I'll survive my petty misery, I'll push through the pointlessness. What else could I do?

    I'm trapped.

    It's silly, I feel like I've said too much. But it's also so much... deeper. There's still a lot to say. It's repetitive, but still.

    Oh well. Got to use the motivation for the few hours it lasts.

    I suggest you stay away from pills, and smoke some joints instead.

    Never underestimate the power of human stupidity.
    - Robert A. Heinlein
    good advice
    (04-29-2014, 10:27 PM)velvetfog Wrote:  I suggest you stay away from pills, and smoke some joints instead.
    (04-29-2014, 11:15 PM)srijantje Wrote:  good advice

    Ought to get a hold of some of that medical jazz.

    I feel enormously better now that I've gotten that giant wall of text that nobody will read of my chest. Feels good, men. Thanks!

    Happiness is fleeting and pain may be constant, but when faced with the choice of wallowing in sorrow or enjoying the small moments of peace, I suppose the choice is only logical.
    by the way,a massive dose of LSD might do you good
    I'll drink to that.

    Never underestimate the power of human stupidity.
    - Robert A. Heinlein
    (04-29-2014, 11:24 PM)Chillos Wrote:  I feel enormously better now that I've gotten that giant wall of text that nobody will read of my chest. Feels good, men. Thanks!

    Well I read it and just by venting your feelings and having a good rant has made you feel good then all power to the might of the rant I say Yay
    Instead of trying to flaunt your literary skills when ranting, try to be more honest. It seems to me that half of what you said was made up or embellished for dramatic effect. Maybe more. Maybe all of it. It may all be true, but I doubt it. Whatever the case, don't be so melodramatic, and focus on the theme, and be interesting and engaging, not whiney. Then you may get the real and/or fake advice you want.

    that those with no rights,
    display the right to have no life, to have respect they must accept
    a world commiting suicide

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