Dried blood, my circumstances, weak, helplessness
I have been so right all along. I am supposed to swallow my anxiety and fear and pretend it’s not what rips me apart inside for ever moment I still breathe. Because there is no cure for social anxiety. The rest of the world considers this disorder a joke I’m sure, but it’s not so light to deal with. It’s caused severe depression and a complete feeling of desperation, of being trapped. I should make it clear how it is in my head.
I can not and do not want to get a job because I WOULD RATHER DIE FIRST. Literally. The interviewing, the pathetic resume I haven’t bothered writing down, the lying I am no good at…where does it leave me? It leaves me starving in the end.
My circumstances are ones that have delayed and continue to stall any progress. I can’t drive, have no work experience and an unfavorable personality. I am that person with social anxiety who has one person in my everyday support circle, my mother, and unfotunately, she doesn’t understand how much it breaks me in dealing with this. I put off learning to drive because I knew my family couldn’t handle the financial burden at the time to send both me and my twin brother through student driving courses. So, I passed and let my brother go first, and I waited until I am now too old to take the same course. I stalled in looking for a first time job because I knew my options would be limited. I would have had to work either at a fast food place or be a cashier somewhere. I feared the situation then and I fear it now, more than ever, because my time is running out.
CB therapy was alright at first. It eased my depression along with the pills, but I let go of all that. I don’t want to talk anymore to people who cannot do anything to genuinely change the circumstances of my life. No one can do that, and they shouldn’t. I don’t want a life, so it’s not neccessary for anyone to try. Oh, and I’ll not forget to metion the near $200 bill the fucking insurance company is sticking me with. They’ve changed how they charge patients for mental health services, and it doesn’t favor the patient, of course.
I could change my degree to Graphic Design and go through another year of courses with a half heart and weak motivation, and it won’t change the circumstances. I’ll still be in this house, without a licence, without work experience. I am shutting down and it’s clear from the numbness. It is deadness now, complete lifelessness.
If I don’t kill myself, what will society do with me in such a state? There’s nothing in life I want that would make it worth the hell of being forced to ‘face my fear’ and anxiety of social situations, day after day after day. It isn’t right, but neither is lying to myself.
This entry was posted on October 8, 2008 at 1:50 pm and is filed under Death, Life, Thoughts, college, depression, family, fear, numbness, pain, personal, social anxiety, society, suicide with tags blod, Death, Life, numbness, pain, people, social anxiety, society, suicide, Thoughts. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
October 8, 2008 at 9:47 pm
I really…I don’t know what to say, you know? I realize that I can’t save you, and you can’t save me…all we can do is try to encourage one another to keep going and hope for the best.
Believe me, we’re in the exact same spot—I am so ready to just throw myself away and call it finished. No on gets it when I can’t pick up the phone to call someone because of the stress it puts me through, or how I run it over in my head a hundred times before I get to a cash register, that I won’t have to talk to the person long. Every tiny move is agony at times, and it is not understood by others. When you get to the point where you’re so introverted that it pains you to go through with the simplest interactions…what is there, you know? Driving to the store and parking is hell, because I’m not confident in my abilities, then when I actually go INTO the store I can’t ask anyone for help when I can’t find something. Then I have to deal with making small talk at the register…. I mean fuck, it never ends! I think about job interviews and it scares the shit out of me, because when the time comes it going to be a horrid experience, you know? It kills me just to have to talk to somebody even every once in awhile, so what the hell would happen if I had to do it everyday?
Just don’t give in…I know I keep saying that, but I mean it. I know it’s going to drag on and on, but it HAS to get better, there HAS to be some sort of reprieve from all of this. It sounds stupid, but that’s what I keep thinking.
I’ve been drowing myself in writing for the past few days, around 12,000 words, I think. Paint, draw, write poetry—the more the better. Write out what you feel, what hurts the most…draw it out.
It seems like the only way to keep going is to cover up the bad and forget that it exists for a brief moment…. Oh, it will always be there, but USE it. Take what it gives you and exploit it for as long as you can….