foggyskies_
In traveling, companionship- in life, sympathy.
- Dec 16, 2024
- 45
Hi. I hope everyone is doing as well as they can be. It's not like we're gonna be alright on a site like this, but all we have is each other. We're fucked up, but we're fucked up together, eh?
Anyway. I'm still unemployed. That "job" turned out to be a scam, and even if it wasn't... it just wouldn't work with my schedule. Among college classes and arthritis flares, I don't think I could manage it. To be honest, I don't know if I could manage any "normal" job. Clerical positions are shot out in demand, retail places only post ghost jobs, and because of my saboteur control freak of a father, smaller businesses or remote jobs are near-impossible even apply to without getting yelled at and one of my belongings destroyed.
Some of you lovely people who've been kind enough to read my rambles have suggested I get on medication for OCD and et cetera. I just don't think that's the solution for me, though. My medication regimen works fine. If I get a day to myself, you might even believe that I'm completely normal in the head! I know not many people respond great to SSRIs, but they do the job for me. And with the amount of immunosuppressants and painkillers I take, I don't want to get on my stomach's bad side by popping more pills. The real root of the issue is that my father makes it unbearable to live.
I often get to thinking that I'm too inherently weak to survive in the real world on my own. Honestly, I still kind of believe it. I'm weak. Physically, mentally. I'm easily confused. I get tired and incapacitated after twenty or so minutes of standing. My only marketable skill was artwork, and now we live in the age of AI where trying to make a living off it is dehumanizing and unrewarding. Now I'm studying translation, but my language skills are far below industry standard. I just don't think I'll be able to keep up. And the USA is becoming increasingly hostile to trans people, immigrants, disabled people, anybody on social security. That is, me and all my loved ones. I don't know what to do. I'm trying to take it day by day but it's all so much. I go to bed with my heart pounding, hoping I have a long dream because sleep is my only respite from the barrage of pain of trying to live a normal life.
I'm functional for now, but how long can I keep it up? I have cats I want to take care of. I have a girlfriend I want to live with. I want a job, a garden, enough mental fortitude to create something I care about every once in a while. We don't all get what we want, do we? Where am I now? Sitting in bed carving myself up and making my body thinner until there's nothing left? Draining away all the money I wanted to save to move out with? Endlessly applying for jobs, never to get hired? Trucking on, like I'm "supposed to", until I give out under the pressure? My body is weak. My mind is weak. I would not fault another for their weakness but this world is only kind to the strong. The wealthy. I just wasn't born for this.
Maybe it'll be better once Dad's out of the picture. But escape seems impossible. It looks so bleak, so hopeless, and what do I do? Stay in this loop forever...?
I know there are people in far worse places than I. I know people have and can escape from much darker depths. I know there is a small chance that I will have a happy life. I just don't know if I can see it. I am so exhausted, death is an imperfect solution and one I fear but it is the only route that seems achievable. I have the strength for nothing else.
I wrote a suicide note the other day. It was hastilly written, only for my girlfriend. I couldn't be bothered to write to my family. Not that I don't care for them. I just couldn't think of anything else to do. By the time I was done, I'd gotten too scared to go through with catching the bus. I sent it to my girlfriend anyway. The attention whore I am, I wanted validation for suffering so much. I must be a terrible lover to put her through so much. I appropriate her addictions, I become a wreck to the point where she beats herself up, convinced she's the one making me worse. She says over and over that she feels hopeless to help me. I wish she wouldn't blame herself so much. I wish she wouldn't make herself a martyr as she does. Who wants to die for a sick, unsaveable girl? She deserves better.
She decided to raise money for me to move out through a crowdfund. I don't even have the guts to send that crowdfund to my friends. I would genuinely rather die than e-beg to people I respect. I've done it once when I was threatened with homelessness. I'm not doing it again. Sometimes, I still feel homeless. Everything I own feels temporary. But I'm just a poser. I know I have a bed to sleep in at night. I know I have warm dinner waiting for me. I wish I felt safe here regardless. I really am lucky, though. Don't get me wrong.
Every now and then I look back on my first post and think about how naive I was. I really thought college would save me. A couple friends would save me. I guess it helps on the survace level. I enjoy it. Doesn't change that every day feels like sprinting on a bed of daggers, heated red, scalding, stabbing with every step. But I have to keep running, right?
Nobody has to reply to this. I normally like to take some time to reply to other folks in recovery. Cheer them on and whatnot. I'm too tired for that tonight, really. In every atom of my body I am exhausted. Even in writing that, it is a lie. I have faced darker depths than now. Lazy would be more accurate. So, in reciprocation for my failure to give back to this place, I urge you all to not expend more energy than you have to on me. It's only fair.
Please, stay well, treat yourself to something nice if you can manage it. If you're reading this, I'm cheering you on. Even if I can't type the words out to tell you. There's so many people here I wish I could give my heart to but simply don't have the right words to figure out what to tell them. I promise, you don't go unnoticed. Safe travels, guys.
Anyway. I'm still unemployed. That "job" turned out to be a scam, and even if it wasn't... it just wouldn't work with my schedule. Among college classes and arthritis flares, I don't think I could manage it. To be honest, I don't know if I could manage any "normal" job. Clerical positions are shot out in demand, retail places only post ghost jobs, and because of my saboteur control freak of a father, smaller businesses or remote jobs are near-impossible even apply to without getting yelled at and one of my belongings destroyed.
Some of you lovely people who've been kind enough to read my rambles have suggested I get on medication for OCD and et cetera. I just don't think that's the solution for me, though. My medication regimen works fine. If I get a day to myself, you might even believe that I'm completely normal in the head! I know not many people respond great to SSRIs, but they do the job for me. And with the amount of immunosuppressants and painkillers I take, I don't want to get on my stomach's bad side by popping more pills. The real root of the issue is that my father makes it unbearable to live.
I often get to thinking that I'm too inherently weak to survive in the real world on my own. Honestly, I still kind of believe it. I'm weak. Physically, mentally. I'm easily confused. I get tired and incapacitated after twenty or so minutes of standing. My only marketable skill was artwork, and now we live in the age of AI where trying to make a living off it is dehumanizing and unrewarding. Now I'm studying translation, but my language skills are far below industry standard. I just don't think I'll be able to keep up. And the USA is becoming increasingly hostile to trans people, immigrants, disabled people, anybody on social security. That is, me and all my loved ones. I don't know what to do. I'm trying to take it day by day but it's all so much. I go to bed with my heart pounding, hoping I have a long dream because sleep is my only respite from the barrage of pain of trying to live a normal life.
I'm functional for now, but how long can I keep it up? I have cats I want to take care of. I have a girlfriend I want to live with. I want a job, a garden, enough mental fortitude to create something I care about every once in a while. We don't all get what we want, do we? Where am I now? Sitting in bed carving myself up and making my body thinner until there's nothing left? Draining away all the money I wanted to save to move out with? Endlessly applying for jobs, never to get hired? Trucking on, like I'm "supposed to", until I give out under the pressure? My body is weak. My mind is weak. I would not fault another for their weakness but this world is only kind to the strong. The wealthy. I just wasn't born for this.
Maybe it'll be better once Dad's out of the picture. But escape seems impossible. It looks so bleak, so hopeless, and what do I do? Stay in this loop forever...?
I know there are people in far worse places than I. I know people have and can escape from much darker depths. I know there is a small chance that I will have a happy life. I just don't know if I can see it. I am so exhausted, death is an imperfect solution and one I fear but it is the only route that seems achievable. I have the strength for nothing else.
I wrote a suicide note the other day. It was hastilly written, only for my girlfriend. I couldn't be bothered to write to my family. Not that I don't care for them. I just couldn't think of anything else to do. By the time I was done, I'd gotten too scared to go through with catching the bus. I sent it to my girlfriend anyway. The attention whore I am, I wanted validation for suffering so much. I must be a terrible lover to put her through so much. I appropriate her addictions, I become a wreck to the point where she beats herself up, convinced she's the one making me worse. She says over and over that she feels hopeless to help me. I wish she wouldn't blame herself so much. I wish she wouldn't make herself a martyr as she does. Who wants to die for a sick, unsaveable girl? She deserves better.
She decided to raise money for me to move out through a crowdfund. I don't even have the guts to send that crowdfund to my friends. I would genuinely rather die than e-beg to people I respect. I've done it once when I was threatened with homelessness. I'm not doing it again. Sometimes, I still feel homeless. Everything I own feels temporary. But I'm just a poser. I know I have a bed to sleep in at night. I know I have warm dinner waiting for me. I wish I felt safe here regardless. I really am lucky, though. Don't get me wrong.
Every now and then I look back on my first post and think about how naive I was. I really thought college would save me. A couple friends would save me. I guess it helps on the survace level. I enjoy it. Doesn't change that every day feels like sprinting on a bed of daggers, heated red, scalding, stabbing with every step. But I have to keep running, right?
Nobody has to reply to this. I normally like to take some time to reply to other folks in recovery. Cheer them on and whatnot. I'm too tired for that tonight, really. In every atom of my body I am exhausted. Even in writing that, it is a lie. I have faced darker depths than now. Lazy would be more accurate. So, in reciprocation for my failure to give back to this place, I urge you all to not expend more energy than you have to on me. It's only fair.
Please, stay well, treat yourself to something nice if you can manage it. If you're reading this, I'm cheering you on. Even if I can't type the words out to tell you. There's so many people here I wish I could give my heart to but simply don't have the right words to figure out what to tell them. I promise, you don't go unnoticed. Safe travels, guys.
