Here are a couple days ramblings:
Update on my depression: Things are going badly.
I found out that my ex is dating another girl. No matter how much I thought I had moved forward, everything came crashing down in a seconds notice.
Oh my God. But I knew this was coming, that he would date her right? That’s why he treated me like nothing, why he acted like a cold wall, afraid I would say something or he would say something wrong–but mostly just me. Like I would say “I miss you” or “I love you” or something equally terrible and he would say okay great and think in his mind that he was with someone else and glad that this was all in the past. Their faces rip my heart apart. How come we never got to take pictures together like that? Because it was miserable. This will be his first happy relationship since me, won’t it? They are so happy and beautiful together. Oh my God I am breaking, I am loosing control, what is this? I shouldn’t do this, I should call someone. I need help. Ouch, ouch, ow, my stomach, oh no. I’m dizzy I’m dizzy–I’m crying. I can’t control this I should just let myself cry but I want to not cry over this because I wanted to feel like I was getting better. I mean just the other day I was thinking about going on a date—OW! My stomach! I love him. Oh my I think I could throw up. Ah, why is everything spinning? How did I get on my hands and knees in the closet? All of this is my fault. I drove him away and he said he would never go anywhere but I drove him away. I am shivering of this crying. I can’t imagine myself stopping crying ever again in the near future–I feel like I can and will cry forever. Their faces rip my heart apart. I really, really feel my chest ripping. But I’m depressed. I need help. I need to call someone. I want to be alone. I don’t want anyone. I should text my friend Gabe. He will understand. But he won’t reply. Oh my God, help me. I’m throwing up, aren’t I? No, that’s just air. How is this possible? He’s happy I want him to be happy I want him to be happy why does his happiness make me so miserable? How can someone else’s happiness bring me pain? How is that right–how are these feelings right? I am breaking, I am loosing control. I remember once he told me he would never leave me and he was never going anywhere.They are so happy and beautiful together. I’m dizzy, I’m dizzy. I can’t imagine him having sex with her. I wonder if he’ll like having sex with her more than me. He will fuck her. I am the only girl he fucked but he will move on. He’s happy. I’m not happy. He’s happy. I’m not happy. He’s happy. I’m not happy. I need to die. I want to die. I don’t want to exist. No, don’t think like that, what about mom and dad and everything else you have? But I feel so alone I want to die. But I don’t want to give anyone the benefit of my death. But I want to die and I want him to stand at my funeral. I wish he was dead. If I saw him I would scream and cry and hit him a lot. Ouch, my stomach. I wish he was dead. I wish I could kill him. Ow, what is that in my stomach, I can’t sit up. I can’t see, my eyes hurt. Oh my God, help me. I’m throwing up, aren’t I? No, that’s just air. I am breaking, I am loosing control, I want to die so so much.
I made it out alive from that. I truly thought I would die then.
This depression is so painful beyond concept. It is taking all of my might to walk and move and just generally, not be dead.
Have you ever lifted weights, Reader? What do you think about when you lift weights? The sandwich you will have for lunch? You have to concentrate in some way. Maybe you have an image in your mind. Some weightlifters do that. Or you imagine your muscles expanding. There’s science that says that actually will cause you to bulk up faster. Have you ever done a deadlift where you hold it for a moment? At that moment you don’t think much. This time, you are really concentrated, to keep it up. And what if you thought, while you held that bar up for those extra five seconds, God, this thing weighs 180 lbs, how the hell am I lifting this? I shouldn’t be able to lift this, I can’t. See, what would happen, and I’m sure you know, is that you would drop the weight. Onto yourself.
What happens then? A friend may come and pick it up and help you. Sometimes they are right there and other times they aren’t quick. You have to wait for them to notice that you are being crushed by this bar, or worse, call their name. Speaking is so hard when you have that bar on your chest. You have another option. Will your strength and push it off of you. Concentrate and push it off of you and hold it and feel okay. It will take a moment to catch your breath after lifting that up, and it will be very difficult to lift it at this point, but you have to have confidence or there is no way you can get out of this. Don’t be afraid–fear is why you dropped the weight in the first place. You have one more option. You can just lie there with the weight on you, pushing against your chest, pushing against your lungs–until it drives the life out of you. It won’t be a good way to go. But it won’t take long if keep lying there.
This is how I’ve been thinking about things lately–that I am holding up this weight and I must concentrate (on being positive, getting through the day), but I’m very aware that I’m holding up a weight. It can fall on me when I falter. And a friend or family can help me up, but like I said, it’s hard to call for them, not to mention the feeling of embarrassment (even though there’s not much to be embarrassed for, sensibly). Otherwise, I have to pick it up. It is much harder to pick it up on my own. But this is what I do most of the time. I almost always pick it up off my chest and keep on holding again. Yet, I still think of not doing so. I think about just leaving the bar, the depression, there. To crush me. To kill me.
I feel so out of control.
The one thing that keeps reverberating through my head is this: someone else’s happiness is making you sad. Someone else’s happiness is your sadness. You are sad because someone else is happy.
That alone is enough to make me want to die. I can’t fathom the likely converse of this: that my happiness can only be brought about by the sadness or misery of someone else. I hate feelings of sadness or misery and all I wish is to be happy and escape this, and yet I feel so deeply that I could never ever inflict these feelings on even the world’s most hated man. God, this is terrible.
Before these past few days I truly had thought of recovery as a tangible thing. Now, I just can’t see it ever happening. If I felt better, it’s because of a distraction, and it’s only temporary. Even if my overall life quality improved, this depression of mine will only come back in remission later on. I really feel that I will die from this.