depression is who I am

This is it right? this has to be it.  there is no way it could possibly be any worse than this...

I am certain I've reach the the highest (or lowest?) point of my depression.

I thought about dying the other day. more then I have ever thought about it before. it wasn't some dumb fleeting thought. "Oh man, I wish I was dead"  no......Now, don't get me wrong, I don't want to kill myself. I WOULD NEVER DO THAT. but I wanted to die. it happened so quickly and it was like a big slap in the face. I was shocked, How  could I possibly think that.  because I REALLY THOUGHT IT. and I was scared. I thought, surely  I'm just being dramatic. I went and hugged my daughter and laughed it off.

but ever since then it keeps happening.  I'm not really sure if the thought of being dead this so appealing, or just the silence. Because when I think about dying, I get panicky..  I don't want to die. I don't want to never see my daughter again. never hear her laugh again, see her smile, hug her.

BUT I just want to get away. I don't want to feel anything anymore. I want to close my eyes and not see anything, not think. I don't want to hear anything. I WANT TO ESCAPE.



I cant.


and now I have this added guilt of having this thought.

Its getting harder to pretend to be happy. its hard to smile and laugh and have conversations.
I can hear myself, and its sounds so fake. so forced. and awkward.

I have no real friends anymore, but its my own fault. but making friends means having to talk to them. beyond the sarcastic banter. I want people to text me, but that means I have to text them back and again have a serious conversation. I want to be invited places to parties, to hang out, to do whatever. but that means I have to leave, it means I have to go out and exhaustingly pretend to be happy. because people will think I'm not having a good time if I'm not smiling and laughing.


lately everyday is a bad day. I want to cry all the time.  there are tears threatening all the time, and I seriously mean ALL THE TIME.


I have so many emotions happening all at once its almost unbearable. its pretty much one big hum of numbness. the tingling painful kind of numb, not the blissful, cant feel anything, numb.  and because of this, my senses are all heightened.  my problem with hearing people chew is growing, I cant stand to hear people period. hear them cough, sneeze clear their throats, scratch their skin. lick their lips. drink. even drop things, hit things. sometimes hearing them laugh. and its such a bad  feeling that I hold my breath, every hair on my body stands on end. I want to pull my scalp off (that's weird but yes, more on that in a minute) bang my hands on my ears.  

but this is my own crazy. and its just that, crazy. How do you tell someone to stop making noise when they aren't even making any. you cant. so i just don't.

I don't want to feel like this.

I'm just so tired.

so my irrational hatred of people living is making my OCD worse. I pick at my scalp.  my hair stand on end it makes me instinctively touch my now itchy head. and I cant stop once I feel it.its satisfying.
the other day I picked out all of the staples that had gotten stuck in the carpet at work. I took all the keys off of the keyboard and clean each one. I took the mouse apart and did he same thing. I took all the remnants of tape off the counter where people had removed sign that had been tapped up but didn't care to get all the tape. and so many other things.

I don't know why. I feel crowded around it all.  I have so many emotions buzzing around me that I feel suffocated adding the mess around me too. maybe if the outside gets clean enough, my insides will be too. maybe its just a nice distraction from my thoughts. I know it feels good to do it. I know that I can breathe better after its done. I can concentrate afterwards.


God, I hate myself so much.
everything about me.
I wish I was so many things that I'm not.
I wish I wasn't a bitch
I wish I was prettier
I wish I was smarter
I wish I was thinner
I wish I was good at something
I wish I was a better mother


I wish I was happy.


 but I cant talk about it. to anyone. because it makes people uncomfortable.
If I do bring it up its have to be with an undertone of humor, like I'm making fun of myself so everyone around doesn't feel about doing it themselves.
even with this, I 'm sure when I see any of you after this you will only be thinking about this. you probably wont bring it up though. you'll  just stand there feeling sorry for me.

I don't want that.

I don't want anyone to feel sorry for me, I just want someone to care.
to care to brake down the walls.
to not let me laugh it off.
to not let me change the subject.
to not be scared of the breakdown that will inevitably follow.

don't tip toe around me
I'm really not that fragile, I wont break if you touch me.
I'm not the sad dogs on a Sarah McLachlan commercial.




this is depression.
      this is me.


my depression defines me


it shouldn't, but it does.

my depression is like a fog

Sometimes I feel like I'm watching my life happen.  I know that sounds dumb, but I just feel like I'm standing on the other side of the window. I can see everything as it's happening, I can see the things that I'm doing and I can hear the things that I'm saying. but at the same time, I can hear my thoughts. but the thought that I'm hearing aren't the same as the thoughts as the me that's watching through the window.

so I'm standing there and I'm watching everything happen and I'm screaming at this girl in front of me that I hardly recognize. I'm telling her the things that she should be saying the things that she should be doing and instead, this person in front of me, says or does something completely different.

and now I'm angry. I'm angry because I'm here. I'm banging on the class and I'm screaming at the top of my lungs. But there is this fog over the window. and it's so thick and it's so dark that I don't think she can hear me.

But sometimes I think she does and I can almost feel her trying to clear the fog away.but she's so weak. and I think that if I could just touch her, just a whisper of a touch, it would be enough.but every time she gives up. because when you're this far lost it is so much easier to give into the darkness that is pulling you back than to fight against it.

bullet points

Someone once told Me that it helps to write down the good and bad points about yourself. This way You have something to visualize. You can work,one point at a time to shorten your bad list. Making the list depressed me even more. So, good job there. I've been told I'm many thing by a lot of people. These are the traits that have been giving to me the most.


GOOD

• I'm a great listener
• I can make people laugh
• I'm not ugly
• Im not stupid
• I always give the benefit of the doubt
• I'm creative

BAD

• I'm fat
• I'm not very pretty
• I talk too much
• I complain too much
• I talk about myself too much
• I'm terrible at retelling jokes/ stories
• I'm not very smart
• I'm a terrible driver
• I'm a bitch
• I judge people too easily
• I'm a liar
• I'm too loud
• I'm lazy
• I'm too picky
• I can't make decisions
• In have terrible taste in tv and movies
• I'm immature
• I never known when to shut up
• I'm annoying
• 
  

who I am.

I am a sad empty shell of a person.

   and all of my life I thought the people around me were the ones that were taking everything out. but in reality it was me giving it all away.

I am a doormat.

  This has been told to me in the nicest most complementing way. And in the most rude hurtful way. I've always thought that if everyone around me was happy that I would be happy. and I've come to learn that that is so far from the truth.

  And I'm tired. I physically feel tired. I want to give up.
 I hate myself. And the worst party of all of it is - its my own damn fault.

   I have been trying to be enough for people since the third grade, when I first started getting picked on. I've lied about things that I've done or seen or that I like. I've changed things about myself. I've settled for things I didn't really like.
 
   And every time, every. damn. Time. It's never enough. And all of these instances, hundreds and thousands of instances, have broken me. And for what? I am the only person who can say how much somebody's words are action hurt me. I am the reason I'm empty.

Right? 

time to come clean.

No one knows this part of me.  And this sad part is that this is me.

The point of this is not for your pity. Nor is it to make you feel bad. It is all an iffy attempt to make me feel better about myself. 

That being said, read it, don't read it. That's your choice.   It will be sad (maybe?) pathetic and whiny.  And while I sometimes lie, a lot. Everything here will be the uncensored truth. 

Welcome.