2014-02-08 14:56:00 ET|
For the past 5-8 years, I have been in a suicidal funk of varying intensity that I am finally clawing my way out of. I mean, I really really hated myself. A lot. I felt and thought that I did not deserve to be friends with or have the love of people that I loved because I am such a piece of shit. Still think that sometimes.
That being said, I tired of GIVING A FUCK how uncomfortable that makes people including some who call themselves my friends. Not talking or writing about it is causing me more damage than however the fuck it makes other people feel. If I am going to make progress, to change my bad mental habits and self abuse then I need to process. That means speaking truth to my own feelings instead of saying "I'm fine" or my (apparently) classic keep-your-fucking-distance "Pretty alright." Cause you know what the fuck? I am actually way more intelligent, interesting, kind, sharp and hot than I give myself credit for. Starting to also realize that when I am an asshole, it is usually because I do not like myself very much to begin with. If I stop thinking terrible things about myself, then perhaps I can be more positive outwardly as well.
Definitely, I am having one of those very rare moments in my life where I sorta believe that I am not a piece of shit. Better to record it while I can before the monster in my brain returns to repeatedly inform me that the world will be a better place when I am dead. It would not be. My parents, partners, comrades, current friends and even friends lost to disagreement and mistakes would all be pretty sad. Still, even as I write this... I think really? would they? they don't care, which is fucked the fuck up and ridiculous. Of course they care! What the fucking hell!
When Occupy was happening, for all of its flaws and wonderfulness (I will not be exploring that here), I was still taking prozac, a mood stabilizer(which I actually never should have been on, ugh) and still was unable to sleep without the aid of drugs. I couldn't feel it. The biggest protest movements of my adult life when people all around me suddenly were super interested in my opinions about the world when not months before they had rolled their eyes when I spoke of politics and I COULDN'T FUCKING FEEL IT. Sure there were moments when I felt a lot- intense protest moments when I was on the line separating us from the police or at the front of the Scott Olsen solidarity march when the veterans took the streets against the cops orders/wishes. Still, most of it I basically felt 'meh.' Like something was missing. It was, my fucking emotions. I remember the moment I decided to stop taking psychiatric medication when I was having sex and it just felt like I was acting. Like... I was a programmed robot designed to seem just like a human woman. Nope. Fuck that.
That was a little over two years ago that I finally came off of all the shit that was supposed to fix my brain but just made me numb to the world. More than any street drug (never done coke or herion, my guess is they're worse) the mood stabilizer was the worst detox/hangover ever. Grossest, painful, fuzzy brain bull shit. I started taking food based supplements instead. They work but they can be expensive and are usually not covered plus I lost my insurance because I was covered by my family until age 26 but not after. Just recently I became covered through the medicaid expansion but I've developed a lot of cynicism when it comes to "metal health professionals" which I feel have done little that is professional or helped me achieve "mental health."
I fell back into my bad habits despite living with close friends. I stopped leaving my room unless I absolutely had to, I wasn't eating enough because I didn't have the energy to feed myself, I wasn't taking care of my dog, I was endlessly watching crap television in a poor attempt to numb myself or at least channel someone else's feelings so I didn't have to face my own gruesome, dark self loathing. Ever single one of those things pushing me deeper. Even though I felt a bit better when I was eating enough/right, exercising and taking the supplements, I was still quick to tell myself I was a piece of shit. That everything that did not work out was my own fault. That I did not deserve what I had and I certainly did not deserve better. My friendship with those close friends is ruined. I place most of the blame on myself. I definitely fucked that shit up. Another subject to be explored another day... I did learn again that, due to alienation or the thing about capitalism that forces us to act/be inhuman, I really can not expect people to be able to be there for me when the desire for death overwhelms me. Especially when it interferes with their livelihood. For that, no one is to be blamed. I am working on learning my limits, how to navigate the world as I know myself to be rather than how I want to be. That I am awesome even though I often hate myself more than I love others. That everyone has their own shit. They can't deal with yours unless their open to it. Most are not. That's ok. Someday, maybe, we will all have less shit and better resources. I can only fucking hope.