Hey! This is me!
And I suffer from crippling depression and anxiety. All the time. With brief moments of respite and happiness. Why? Because world sucks and my brain can't come up with anymore excuses about it - can't make shit up for me to be happy and carefree about ... I simply lack the bullshit hormone ... or something.
I envy every single one of you how happy and totally carefree you can be. How you can just sit there talking shit and laugh and look as if there was nothing wrong with the world around you. How can you do that? Is there some sort of secret I've not been privy to? Am I just on the outside, not being let in to some special "Lucky People" group?
I'm sick of this really. I like to joke around (partially) about me actually being the one that really sees reality for what it is, but truth be told, I'm really over feeling like this. I don't want to, because it's killing me. I can even see that in the goddamn mirror. All of this worry, all of this anger, all of this resentment, all of this sadness and all of these memories, images and the KNOWLEDGE of horrible things happening right now to the most vulnerable and innocent members of this planet ... it's killing me.
I've thought of and wished for not being alive anymore. It's different from having suicidal thoughts or attempting a suicide, so don't get your knickers in a bunch. I just sometimes wish I could just stop being alive, so that stupid brain of mine could stop endlessly working out how many kids are being abused today, which one of the fathers I see at the daycare when I'm picking my daughter up is molesting his daughter/son ... if something is going to fall on me and my daughter as we're walking under the bridge ... You know, the usual catastrophic scenarios 24/7. It's more than a full time fucking job. How am I not a junky yet, shooting up in a gutter somewhere?!?!? Oh, yeah, I love my daughter and the people around me and I've had enough love shown to me during this lifetime to know that some people do care, so I should really consider myself lucky.
Anyway ... I thought you should know why I've become a totally asocial mess whose only social interactions boil down to the fight or flight response or some coping mechanisms such as sarcasm and just general weirdness (I swear I'm not stupid, I'm just feeling threatened all-the-time).
Yes, I have sought help and as of now I'm sitting here, on my cellulite ridden ass, waiting for a phone call or a letter that will tell me when can I finally start my therapy. Whatever that is or is supposed to do ... which is really also my only hope at a normal (what the fuck is normal anyway) life. And yes, I've had a crack at anti-depressants as well. They worked for a little bit, but being the freak I am, I really missed 'being myself' and ended up getting myself off them after a couple of months. Now, how masochistic am I? Being myself. It really is no fun.
I won't go into detail about why I am the way I am, but let's just say that having a child put things into a whole new motherfucker of a perspective for me. Her innocence and helplessness made it more poignant and painful to read stories of physical/sexual abuse that happens to such children day in and day out, war stories, hunger stories, natural disaster stories, ad nauseam. Yes, you guessed right (or you already knew as there is a shit ton of us out there), I was sexually abused as a child. For years. I've also survived a home invasion and almost killed someone that tried to rape my mother. Anything else? Any more questions? I'm fucked. I know why and I am trying to fix it. Decades later.
Am I looking for pity? No. I am, however, looking for understanding and compassion as that is pretty much the only thing that makes us humans, human. I'm looking for other humans. Psychopaths and sociopaths need not apply - or folks that abuse children. Thank you very much.
I want to point out, that my husband is one of the most amazing human beings to have ever walked the surface of this planet and so is my daughter, who is an angel embodied. I've also had the absolutely insane luck of meeting many other people thanks to whom I'm still alive. One of them is Bobby and the other is Taty, my two best mates in the whole wide world. One of them lives in Georgia (USA) and the other in mothefucking Oregon. I miss them horribly and I hate them for hating each other so that I can never hang out with both of them at the same time (I'm seriously not trying to guilt-trip you though, I understand). I also love my messed up mother, who, as opposed to me, has the WORST luck in meeting people - she is a magnet for abusers, predators and general sickos. God bless her heart.
There are many others to whom I'm thankful. Many. And I am thankful, I swear I am.
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