ColorlessTrees
Stuck
- Jan 4, 2022
- 261
I'm not sure that recovery is the proper place for this, but I placed it here, because the suicide discussion didn't feel quite right either.
Perhaps the concept of limbo between life and death has been thoroughly discussed here, but I have another angle, as well as my own problems with it. This is seventy percent bitching, and thirty percent musing about my unrealizable potential. Be warned that this will be a long post.
My ups and downs are calculated, cyclical. I am tired, struggling with medical issues largely undiagnosed, but I've identied my 'mental health' issues as chiefly hormonal—at this point in my life. I have one "baseline" week a month. It's like clockwork, and the other three weeks are hell. I can't hold a job, I dropped half of my college classes, and I barely socialize, as a result. Therapy, long term, and doctors especially, have proved useless.
There are things I could accomplish, per se. I have a stable, middle class life, I'm provided for, and my degree would be paid for. Of course, I feel ungrateful for feeling the way I do despite all this; on even passable days, I would choose to die painlessly rather than be happy.
My biggest aspirations are dust, but there are still things I want to do, real tangible goals I have, and things that give me fleeting smiles, but I never do them. If I had the energy, cognitive and physical, I'd invest more time into writing, delve into classic literature, return to my Japanese studies, and pick up an instrument, as well as get a job, reach my low weight again, learn to drive, and take more classes so I don't take five years to get an associate degree, at the least.
None of these, nor my other goals, feel attainable. There are so many obstacles, physical and mental, and there aren't any solid solutions. I want to die, but I also don't, because I know I could make a difference, even small. It's all a matter of breaking my chains and functioning as a normal member of society. I've been isolated, mute and uneducated for most of my life, coasting and aimless. While I've made some real progress these last two years, it's also shown me that I can't handle commitment, working, or the physically intensive profession I've chosen to attempt. Some part of me wants to continue on that trail of trying, but when I feel like hell for 90% of my life, it's difficult. Medication is out of the question.
tldr; I am a youth with an innate compassion for strangers, and a small flame; rarely it's ignited by personal goals and often it's extinguished with desolation. My words are grating, I know. ;) I must apologize for how rambly and inarticulate my writing is. This concise for me; if I were to write everything on my mind, I'd have three novels worth of content, and oh, if only I could have that with my fiction!
If anyone else has a similar experience, or any thoughts they'd like to share, I'd love to hear them. Best of luck and lots of love.
Perhaps the concept of limbo between life and death has been thoroughly discussed here, but I have another angle, as well as my own problems with it. This is seventy percent bitching, and thirty percent musing about my unrealizable potential. Be warned that this will be a long post.
My ups and downs are calculated, cyclical. I am tired, struggling with medical issues largely undiagnosed, but I've identied my 'mental health' issues as chiefly hormonal—at this point in my life. I have one "baseline" week a month. It's like clockwork, and the other three weeks are hell. I can't hold a job, I dropped half of my college classes, and I barely socialize, as a result. Therapy, long term, and doctors especially, have proved useless.
There are things I could accomplish, per se. I have a stable, middle class life, I'm provided for, and my degree would be paid for. Of course, I feel ungrateful for feeling the way I do despite all this; on even passable days, I would choose to die painlessly rather than be happy.
My biggest aspirations are dust, but there are still things I want to do, real tangible goals I have, and things that give me fleeting smiles, but I never do them. If I had the energy, cognitive and physical, I'd invest more time into writing, delve into classic literature, return to my Japanese studies, and pick up an instrument, as well as get a job, reach my low weight again, learn to drive, and take more classes so I don't take five years to get an associate degree, at the least.
None of these, nor my other goals, feel attainable. There are so many obstacles, physical and mental, and there aren't any solid solutions. I want to die, but I also don't, because I know I could make a difference, even small. It's all a matter of breaking my chains and functioning as a normal member of society. I've been isolated, mute and uneducated for most of my life, coasting and aimless. While I've made some real progress these last two years, it's also shown me that I can't handle commitment, working, or the physically intensive profession I've chosen to attempt. Some part of me wants to continue on that trail of trying, but when I feel like hell for 90% of my life, it's difficult. Medication is out of the question.
tldr; I am a youth with an innate compassion for strangers, and a small flame; rarely it's ignited by personal goals and often it's extinguished with desolation. My words are grating, I know. ;) I must apologize for how rambly and inarticulate my writing is. This concise for me; if I were to write everything on my mind, I'd have three novels worth of content, and oh, if only I could have that with my fiction!
If anyone else has a similar experience, or any thoughts they'd like to share, I'd love to hear them. Best of luck and lots of love.
