I feel suicidal daily.
I still play the blame game, with myself and others.
I take massive steps to avoid living life.
These are the kinds of things that run through my mind, which I use to beat myself up with when I think I’m getting better.
I don’t see another choice. Is there another choice? Although I do plod through most days with some success, I spend an awful lot of time in bed. Not sleeping: stewing.
I spend most days exhausted from having fought my way through a long, long night of doubts and fear.
Where did it start?
I wasn’t always depressed, although I have been my entire adult life. As a kid I was pretty rosy. Things didn’t keep me up at night. Well . . . most nights. Well . . . when I say “most nights,” I mean, with depression.
I was very anxious as a kid. I watched the program Cosmos religiously, and worried much of the time if solar flares were going to suddenly engulf the Earth, or if the universe was going to contract again to its original state, or if another great flood would eat up California and the water would come pouring into Arizona.
And on and on. Most kids would wonder about it a bit. I would obsess over these possibilities a lot.
With all the time alone in bed, you’d think that I would have analyzed all this by now and come up with a way out. Unfortunately, there’s never enough time for careful contemplation. Not when you’re sliding down a mile long tunnel, free falling, unable to tell which way is up.
7 of my greatest mistakes
- Listening to my fears. They never shut up.
- Letting shame paralyze me.
- Running away from social interactions.
- Punishing myself for taking up space.
- Comparing myself to others — both those more and less fortunate than I am.
- Indulging in wondering what’s real and what’s not.
- Replaying negative situations in my mind.