I have lurked here for a long time and never made a post before but here I am I guess. I don't think I have any hope left. A few years back I felt better than I ever had with a new lease on life and assurance that I wanted to live, but wanting to be alive leads to a risk of failure. Failure and I are well acquainted and our relationship is violent and full of resentment. I look back at a mountain of failures and wish I truly wanted to die instead of being stuck in this limbo of misery. This isn't anybody's fault but my own. I am the architect of all of my own failures and those that loved me and tried to help me deserve more love than I am capable of giving them. I wish anything could fix me.
You're going to hate this, but here goes:
It seems to me like you're kind of settling for being suicidal, as if there is nothing else.
But the risk of failure carries with it the risk of succeeding. You cannot have one without the other.
You are not the only architect of your past. Luck, timing, other people, hell, even the weather - all of these factors come into play when we're trying to do something for ourselves. I know, it seems obvious and trite, but I am still alive because of a blizzard. Yep. Snowplow driver caught me. Had it not snowed, I'd have been gone in 2012.
It seems to me you are in a downward thought spiral. I've had many of them and they are dangerous. But they are also not reality. It is possible to stop the thought spiral, but it takes work and perhaps a leap of faith.
What brings you to this point? What has happened in the last few years that turned it around so badly? You don't have to tell us, of course, but it might help to share.
I'm sorry you're here. As I always say, welcome to the club that nobody wants to join.
