Monday, November 28, 2011


I feel so foolish for sharing my feelings sometimes. I don't know why I bother. I should know better. I guess you could say that my doing so is a cry for help. But it's not like I'm looking for pity. I don't want people to feel sorry for me. I just want someone to understand, to relate.

I was rereading my blog post from June 28th, entitled 'sadness', and I feel exactly as I did then. And with every cycle, every depression I go through, it is always the same. The reasons almost never change. But the intensity of my feelings do get stronger. They get worse. I've been through 6 years of this crap so far, and every depressive episode is worse than the last. I know some people think that I like being sad. But I really do not think this is true. I want and need relief. I'd give anything to make this stop. Because even if I make it out alive through this depressive episode, it is only a matter of weeks or a couple months before I will be right back here. Only I am sure next time will be worse. It always is.

Sadly, if I could choose, I'd rather be manic. Because even though my thoughts, feelings and actions are volatile and much different than my 'normal' self, at least I wouldn't be severely depressed and want to end my life. I know I am sometimes afraid to try to really live my life. But this is not ever why I contemplate taking my life. It is always in an effort to stop the overwhelming heartache and pain I feel inside. I've had moderate to severe depression a lot in my life, for various reasons. But having depression that is due to a mental illness seems different. I find it harder to handle and cope with. And much harder to overcome. I really hate this.

Another low

I wish I had the courage and strength that others have, to truly live. I feel unbelievably inadequate in so many ways. I've been crying almost nonstop for days now. I just want this sinking dreadful feeling of being useless and worthless to go away. It's a relentless sharp pain deep in my heart. I feel so empty. So very sad. And it seems that everything reminds me of things I don't want to think about. I know I am falling fast into a severe depression once again. I really hate this. I feel so worthless. I need this pain to stop. It is getting very difficult to handle the heartache. Damn. What I wouldn't give to have someone hold me close right now. Maybe somehow it could ease my pain and tears. I don't remember the last time I was held close and really felt safe, secure and loved. It's been quite a long time, and I miss it so much. I need that kind of loving support and reassurance. But I can't make anyone do something that they don't want to do.

I know people say it is selfish to take one's life. But isn't it selfish too, if I stay around knowing that I am nothing but a burden and cause of pain to the people I care about? For the very few who do care, sure they might be sad if I die, but then they can move on and live happier without me bringing them down. But the longer I am here, the more they'd end up suffering, having to deal with me. I don't ever want to hurt the people I love, in any way. But these feelings I have, this pain, the heartache; it is so extreme. I don't know what to do, and I don't know how much longer I can cope.

Saturday, November 26, 2011

A small bit of hope

It is 6 a.m. and I am laying here in bed, unable to sleep. I'm just not tired. In fact, I've been awake all night. And I don't really know why. But, before I even try to sleep, I have one thing on my mind.

It amazes me how much one little thing, even as simple as an online message from a dear friend who is far away, can make such a difference. I mean, my whole friendship with them means so much. But tonight, their message meant a lot. At a time when I felt no one cares if I even exist... that message was just what I needed. To hear that I was missed made me feel less alone. It renewed a little bit of hope in me, that maybe my life isn't as pointless as it feels. In that moment I was happy. I wish I could hold onto this smile. But I know all too well that nothing good ever seems to last, no matter how much I want them to.

Friday, November 25, 2011

This is no life

It amazes me; all the unique and special abilities, talents, and skills that people can have. Their good qualities that seem to help make this world not feel so harsh.

I always thought I was a good person. I always wanted to help others, and it never mattered to me what I had to give up to help them. Lately though, it seems I cause more heartache and problems for the people I care about. I make no useful contribution to their lives, nor to anyone or anything. I don't have any useful talents or skills. And with all the medication I am on, I sure as hell don't feel smart anymore.

I honestly just sit at home, doing nothing. My health- both physical and mental- just keeps getting worse. And there is so very little I can do about it. I have like two friends, that I hardly ever see anymore, and family who is so far away. My life is nothing more than taking up space between the walls of this house. I'm never going to do anything great or special. I'm no one, and it sucks. I hate myself, and I hate my life, if you can even call this living.

I used to be so full of hope. My life used to have meaning; a purpose. Now I sit here crying, wishing I could no longer exist. To no longer "be". I'm beyond miserable. And the worst part? No one even notices or cares.

Thursday, November 24, 2011

The past few months

It's been awhile since I wrote my thoughts here. And with how I've been lately, I thought it might help to get it out. I haven't really been the same since August of this year. Three months.

I came back from visiting family in August, and things went downhill from there. Fast. See, whenever I go home, I am quickly reminded of the people I miss dearly. And even though I have a couple people here that I care about, the grief and emptiness I feel when I come back here is always so overwhelming. And maybe too its because when I am here, there is a constant reminder of my bleak reality. Reminders of how I can't do much at all because of my health. I feel like such a bad housewife. I can't ever seem to keep the house clean, I rarely cook, I cannot work. All too often I feel like I have no purpose at all. I feel beyond worthless. It doesn't help that I have so few friends, none of which can truly relate to me. I feel so alone. And even though those few who care tell me they love me, it is difficult to believe them. I feel so worthless.

Well, within days of my returning here, I was severely depressed. And suicidal. A timely previously-scheduled appointment with my psychiatrist led to an increase in my anti depressant. Which helped for a little while.

Then came October. Specifically, October 17th. The 10 year anniversary of my father's death. It was really hard on me. Even though he had his issues and wasn't perfect, I miss him. I really do.

All the while I'd been dealing with my bad health getting worse. It was estimated that my liver was functioning at around 17% at that time. I was feeling especially suicidal and decided to use that knowledge. I drank. A lot. And of course I consumed plenty of pills along with the alcohol. I remember I just sat on the couch, crying. Crying so hard that my insides hurt. My heart hurt in ways I couldn't even begin to describe. I wanted all the emotional pain and anguish to stop.

Well, the alcohol made me violently ill, and I spent the evening throwing up and still crying. All the while still feeling all the sadness inside. The disappointment I have, of things I've done, who I am, and of course all the things I can't do or be.

The alcohol of course hurt my liver even more, bringing the percentage of how it was functioning down to 8%. I've been sick ever since. Days going through physical withdrawal from certain pills I took that day. Then I had the flu. Then I never got rid of that "not well", feeling and soon developed a cold and now bronchitis.

All the depression along with being sick, I again feel myself sliding more towards not wanting to live. I'm such a damn burden, and I contribute nothing that is worthwhile to anyone or anything. I feel so empty and lonely. Every day I wake up and dread even getting out of bed. There just doesn't seem to be any point anymore.

In the past few years, life feels like nothing but a sick joke. I'm tired of it all. A tormenting cycle of mistakes, severe depression, and unsuccessful suicide attempts. I often catch myself wondering, "why the hell can't I just die??"