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gildedskull · 1 month ago

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I don't know who I am anymore. I don't feel like I have wants, needs, desires, a drive, interests, things that make me happy. Like I know I do, and there's been things I've wanted to do, but not enough to make me want to do it, to take the steps necessary for change in my life.

Like I want to work out, or that want of making paper because it'd be a fun hands on hobby, and like neither of them seem like they'd be more rewarding than what I'm currently doing to make me want to do it. I know the time will pass anyways, that it'd be nice to learn a hobby or improve how I look, but it's just so much easier to rot and I'm not entirely uncomfortable just rotting. Like I want more for myself but I'm also happy having nothing, doing nothing - it's really the being nothing that's getting to me. I no longer know who I am or what I am to my friends; I remember being a good listener, good advice, or funny - and I still like to think I'm a good listener but I've also been not letting myself just be overtalked in relationships - getting a bit better about me just not being a support and comfort sponge, and my friends are giving me space to talk but once it's actually my turn to speak I have nothing to say. Like nothing in a small talk sense, an update on life sense, and sharing of interests - of being passionate about something and being like insistant that they need to do, or know, or consume it - and I don't want to say like I was that person that did those things, but I can't even remember if I was or not, and it's the only thing that I could feasiably believe as the truth. I tell my friends wants and things I wanna do, or try and make plans for the future but they don't seem real, or they only seem like dreams, and dreams because I don't actually want to do them - I've talked about taking a trip to Savannah and seeing the beach, and there's so many reasons to not do it, or the reasons to not do it are greater than the joy I'd get out of it, and I'm not a doer I'm a planner and so they feel like dreams because I know it's not going to happen unless I do something or commit and I don't want to. I like my friends but everytime we hang out, in the time after I'm like oh that wasn't worth the time, energy, or money - and it's like I don't even know what I want out of it, what I'm expecting, or even if I'm just creating my own misery and comparing it to times in the past where I craved and longed and fought for hanging out with my friends. But I can't even argue that I fought for those things, but that's not the point, it's the want behind it, the having motivation for it. It now just seems like I'm doing things and expecting a hit out of it and it's not happening but I'm trying anyways - but it's getting to a point where the negatives hurt, impact more, to make it me not want to even try. The anxiety of driving, the labor of getting there, the having to listen to how their lives are going and improving and what they're doing, and feeling happy for them, but also bored out of my mind, wanting something but also not knowing what it is - or feeling like an outsider, or furniture or like just a wall because that's how unimpactful I'm not being in the get together.

And it's nice to not have expectations or feel like I have to be anything, but it also just feels like I'm getting pulled or dragged along with what their doing, but I also don't care what we do…but I'm clearly not happy either. I recall a sort of recent time where my friends did a hangout day I suggested, and I had a plan that they followed but it was a sort of shitty plan for a day out and they were very nice and kind and did it anyways, but I'm upset at myself for making them follow it, and for thinking it was a good plan, and then pettily, partially, blaming them because they didn't have better plans, they didn't stop me - and I don't know how fully I feel that, but there's a part that's like man this was a terrible idea, I should've just let y'all pick, or listened to y'all more. It's no one's fault, but I'm more mentioning it as an example of having expectations or plans and it's being catered to me, and still not being satisfied by what I think I want. I want to do more with my life, I want to open myself up to more experiences, but when it comes down to the wire of actually doing those things, I'll make excuses, or feel like I need to go easy on myself because I know how hard I can be on myself, but if I'm not strict or disciplined, or feel like beholdened - like guilty if I don't do it - I'll end up wimping out and not doing anything, even if I really wanted to do it, or had a passing whim about it - I want to pursue passing whims because at least I'm doing something rather than the rotting routine. But it's getting to a point where I don't even feel shame or guilt for not doing something, that the doing nothing in the decision making moment feels so much better than doing something. I know I'm my own worst enemy, but I can't bring myself to change - it's a thing where getting fast food / a little reward for myself isn't enough to make me do something - like we have food at the house, and I'm fine just having that - I need other people wanting fast food in order to get it, not just for myself. I need think or want or crave those little rewards for myself, and a part of me is like oh that was a good thing because I'm not spending money on stupid things, but at this point it's looking more and more like an issue, like I don't want to go to the movies or the aquarium, or whatever if it's just for myself. There's something to be said about wanting to stay in my comfort zone, do what's familiar, but I'm obviously not happy with that, but that misery ain't enough for me to want to try the smaller, other things that'd make me uncomfortable to change the routine, if that makes sense - that my comfort zone is unhappy/uncomfortable, so shouldn't I want to break out of the 'comfort' zone?

I'm trying to be more open with my friends, talkative about the feelings and thoughts even if they're not good, but there's also only so much help they can provide. They're sympathetic and willing to listen, and sometimes it's a fight to get them to stay on topic about my shit, but I've been able to persist anyways to let myself fully vent and then its like…okay, what now? I said all my things, I don't expect you to fix it, help it, but I'm also not getting the comfort I need or want, not if I'm not fully crashing out. We talk about therapy, and again I have so many excuses why I can't, and it's not my friends purpose or what not, but shouldn't the burden be easier to bare with them? It doesn't feel good sharing it, it feels like I'm being self-centered or raining on their parade, but it's also reaching a point of like worry, of if I don't share it, if I don't give out a cry for help, they'll be blindsided by a crashout or taken by surprise if something happens. It's passive idealation, as always, but it's been such a lingering feeling of depression, that I don't know what to do - I know what to do - but I'm also waiting for it to pass, like it has before, but it's also getting to a point where it's more and more clearer effecting my life. But I guess what I'm saying is that being open with people feels less helpful than just being quiet, they can't help, they feel bad, they grow concerned, I'm just putting them in a helpless situation, and it doesn't always make me feel better getting everything off my chest - it feels like I'm dragging them down with me to a point of us just waiting for the other shoe to drop. There's also something to be said where I feel like I'm replacing me with just mental illness and labels - that I'm shoving everything out and just making myself a clinical diagnosis. Self-fellatio through trauma porn.

I've been drinking more, and I like to think it's not to cope, but I think it is. It's been some drinks on a daily, not enough to get drunk, just enough to feel good, to not feel angry, to feel relaxed and easy going, but the easy going is also already kind of there, the not caring what happens kind of shit. I know my main coping mechanism is maladaptive daydreaming; living someone else's life rather than my own. What's the point of therapy if they're just going to analyze my feelings like I'm already doing? I understand it's my responsibility to get change, and as much as I just wants pills, an easy fix, I don't think I'd get that in my situation. ----------------------------------------------------------

What you’re describing sounds like a deep and complex emotional and existential numbness, which is commonly associated with depression, burnout, or dissociation from the self—especially in people who are smart, self-aware, and used to having a sense of identity rooted in being useful, insightful, or passionate.

Here's what's wrong—not in a moral or shaming way, but in a clinical, emotional, and human sense:

🧠 1. You’re disconnected from desire, not lazy.

You’re not lacking interests because you’re “lazy” or “unmotivated.” You want to want things. You’re expressing a deep disconnect between your brain’s intellectual recognition of joy and your body’s inability to feel it. That’s anhedonia—a common symptom of depression. It makes doing anything, even fun things, feel like a chore. And when everything feels like a chore, you stop doing anything.

⚖️ 2. You’re caught between apathy and guilt.

There’s an internal tug-of-war:

“I should do more.”

“But I can’t/don’t want to.”

“Well, then I’m failing.”

“But what’s the point?”

You intellectually want things to be better, but you emotionally can't convince yourself that the payoff exists—or that it's worth the effort. So you stay stuck in this limbo where doing nothing feels safer than risking more disappointment or emptiness.

🔁 3. You're missing a feedback loop of joy.

You don't get enough emotional payoff from your actions—so the brain learns: “Why bother?” If every action costs energy and returns nothing, it's completely rational for your body and mind to shut down to protect you from further depletion.

This includes:

Hanging out with friends but leaving unfulfilled.

Planning hobbies or trips that never feel real.

Suggesting something and resenting it when it happens.

Not even indulging in small treats or self-care, because there's no anticipation or joy.

🧍‍♂️ 4. Your sense of self is fragmented.

You don’t know who you are anymore—and you’re mourning a version of yourself you think used to be vibrant, interesting, passionate, and full of things to say. Maybe that person really existed. Maybe you idealize them. But right now, you're feeling like a ghost of your former self, uncertain of what’s authentic or just performance.

You say:

I don't feel like I have wants, needs, desires, a drive...

That signals a collapse of identity. You're not feeling like a person—just a passenger watching things happen. That’s not your fault. It can stem from trauma, burnout, or a prolonged period of survival without joy or agency.

🤝 5. You're craving connection—but feel unworthy or exhausted by it.

You want your friends to listen. To engage. To care. And maybe they do—but it doesn’t land. It doesn’t fill you. It leaves you more tired. You feel like furniture in the room. You want to show up meaningfully, but you don’t know how anymore.

I don't even know what I want out of it...

This signals emotional flatlining—not absence of care, but the absence of meaningful return on emotional energy invested.

🧩 6. You don't know what will make you happy—and that hurts.

You aren’t wrong that your “comfort zone” is uncomfortable. But it’s what you know. It’s predictable. And miserable + predictable often feels safer than unknown + potentially worse.

You're stuck in a motivational dead zone, where:

Misery isn't enough to spur change.

Joy isn't strong enough to spark action.

And the in-between leaves you disoriented, discouraged, and numb.

So... what does this mean?

You’re not broken. But you are stuck. And your system is protecting you in a way that no longer serves you.

You’re surviving—but not living. You’re existing—but not being. You’re tired of “rotting”—but too empty to bloom.

That’s not laziness. It’s a cry from the self that’s drowning in silence.

What now?

Here’s what might help—not to “fix” you overnight, but to gently move you out of the loop:

🌱 1. Acknowledge that this is emotional burnout, not a personality flaw.

The exhaustion, apathy, guilt, and confusion are all symptoms of burnout or depression. Self-loathing won’t get you out of it. Compassion might.

🪞 2. Focus on “being” over “doing.”

Try small things that ask nothing of you. Watch something new. Sit outside. Don’t expect a rush of joy—just notice. It’s not about productivity; it’s about presence.

📖 3. Keep journaling like this.

You are incredibly articulate. That clarity may not feel like a strength, but it is. Reflecting on your state, like this, is a form of emotional survival. Keep naming it. It will eventually guide you back.

🧠 4. Consider talking to a professional.

These patterns—especially the loss of self, anhedonia, and disconnection from desire—can be worked through with therapy. You don’t have to do it alone.

🫂 5. You might need new types of connection.

Friends may not be the mirror you need right now. You may need people who don’t know the “old” you—who won’t expect you to perform. New online communities, support groups, or creative spaces may help stir something new.

You’re not “nothing,” even if it feels that way. You’re a person in limbo, craving meaning and identity and aliveness. That’s not a flaw—it’s a reflection of how deeply you care, how aware you are, and how much you’re longing for a life that feels like your own.

I’m here as long as you need to talk it through. --------------------------------------------------------

This is such a valid and deeply honest question. And you're not the only one who's ever thought: "If I already know what’s going on, what the hell is a therapist going to tell me that I don’t already know?"

Let’s break that down, not with a pep talk—but with truth:

🧠 1. Insight ≠ Change

You’re right—you’re already analyzing yourself. You’re highly self-aware. You can name the problem, trace the patterns, and even identify potential causes. That’s rare.

But insight alone doesn’t shift behavior or lift emotional weight. If it did, you’d already be better.

Therapy isn’t just analysis—it’s about turning awareness into movement, in a space designed specifically to keep you from getting stuck in loops.

It helps you do something self-reflection alone can’t: Get out of your own head.

🧱 2. You can’t outthink a wall. You need help getting over it.

What you're facing—this numbness, passivity, emotional burnout—is a wall. You know it's there. You even know why it's there. But that doesn't help you scale it.

A therapist doesn’t just sit across from you nodding. A good one:

Challenges your internal logic gently when it becomes self-defeating.

Asks questions you wouldn’t think to ask yourself.

Keeps you from spiraling into self-analysis without action.

Holds you accountable in a non-judgmental way.

You can think through your shit forever and still be stuck. Therapy helps you feel through it with support.

🩹 3. You don’t want a “fix”—you want relief.

You said it yourself:

I just want pills, an easy fix...

That’s not weakness. That’s exhaustion. You’re not lazy or unmotivated—you’re burned out from carrying your own suffering alone.

Sometimes medication can help. Even if it’s not the silver bullet, the right one can give you just enough lift to want things again. But a psychiatrist will want to see you’re working through things emotionally too—which is where therapy helps.

🤝 4. You need a space that’s only for you. Not your performance. Not your friends.

In therapy, you don’t have to:

Worry about boring someone

Be insightful

Be funny

Be the “good friend”

Protect anyone else’s emotions

It’s one of the only places where you can be as empty or angry or tired as you really are, and someone will stay with you in it—not walk away, not rush to fix you, not expect you to entertain or comfort them.

That kind of space? It can be healing just by existing.

🧭 5. You don’t need more analysis. You need guided reconnection.

You’ve lost your sense of desire, drive, direction. You’re not broken, but your compass is. And right now, you're too close to the problem to recalibrate it on your own.

Therapy isn’t a lecture or a class. It’s collaborative. It’s you and someone else, walking toward meaning together. Sometimes slowly. Sometimes in circles. But not alone.

TL;DR:

You know what's happening. You even know why. What therapy gives you is a safe, structured space to feel differently, not just think differently— —and a person whose job is to help you make life bearable again.

You don’t have to want to be “fixed.” You only need to want to stop rotting in place. That’s already enough.

Would you want help finding a kind of therapist who doesn’t just do the analyzing, but actually works with people feeling like you do? There are specific modalities that are better for that numb, lost, "what's the point?" feeling. I can break them down if that helps. ---------------------------------------------------------------

That feeling—"I want to do this on my own"—is so human. Especially when you’re someone who’s used to being self-reliant, introspective, maybe even the emotional caretaker for others.

Wanting to “earn” your healing or “deserve” your recovery by doing it solo… that’s not wrong. But let’s be real: you’ve already been doing this alone for a long time. And the fact that you’re still here, still questioning, still reflecting, means you’re not weak—it means you’re already fighting.

So let’s give you backup. And let’s make it count.

🧠 Therapy Modalities That Work When You're Feeling Numb, Stuck, or Disconnected

1. Internal Family Systems (IFS)

Best for: People who feel fragmented, lost, or like they’ve got parts of themselves at war with each other.

What it is: IFS helps you identify and communicate with different “parts” of you—like the “planner,” the “rotting zombie,” the “ashamed self,” the “motivated dreamer.” It treats each part with compassion, even the self-sabotaging ones.

Why it works: Instead of asking “Why am I like this?”, IFS asks, “What part of me is hurting so bad it needs to shut down?”

You’ll like it if: You want insight with structure. It’s very reflective but doesn’t leave you spinning. You stay in control of the process.

2. ACT (Acceptance & Commitment Therapy)

Best for: People who feel stuck in avoidance, numbness, or self-defeating habits, but still want to move forward.

What it is: ACT teaches you to:

Accept unpleasant thoughts and feelings without needing to fix them

Commit to value-based action, even if it feels uncomfortable

Why it works: It’s not about “feeling better”—it’s about doing what matters even when you feel like shit.

You’ll like it if: You’re tired of trying to “fix” your emotions and want a practical way to live alongside them.

3. Existential Therapy

Best for: People who feel lost, empty, or like they no longer have a clear identity, purpose, or connection to meaning.

What it is: A philosophical, depth-based approach. It explores big questions:

“Who am I now?”

“What’s the point?”

“What kind of life do I want to live, even in the face of suffering?”

Why it works: It meets you exactly where you are—not as someone who’s “disordered,” but as a person wrestling with the human condition.

You’ll like it if: You think deeply, hate shallow advice, and want someone to sit in the “what the fuck is all this for?” with you.

4. Behavioral Activation

Best for: People with anhedonia (lack of joy/motivation) who need structured, small steps out of the void.

What it is: A very practical method that treats depression-like symptoms by helping you do first and feel later. Instead of waiting for motivation, you:

Build a routine of tiny, meaningful actions

Track how each one affects your mood

Reinforce a feedback loop of energy and reward

Why it works: It doesn’t expect you to feel better to start. It works because you don’t feel better.

You’ll like it if: You want a “game plan” and concrete things to try, even when you feel like you don’t care.

5. Somatic Therapy

Best for: People who feel emotionally numb, physically disconnected, or like their body is checked out.

What it is: Somatic therapy connects emotional healing with body awareness. It helps you notice:

Where you feel stuck or shut down in your body

How your nervous system might be in freeze mode

How to safely reconnect with sensation, movement, breath

Why it works: Sometimes emotions aren’t blocked in your mind—they’re frozen in your body.

You’ll like it if: You’ve tried talking about things and it just makes you feel more detached. You want to feel something again, even if it’s subtle.

🔍 How to find one of these?

Look on PsychologyToday.com or Open Path Collective (for affordable therapy).

Search with filters like:

“Internal Family Systems”

“ACT”

“Existential”

“Somatic”

“Behavioral Activation” or “CBT with Behavioral Focus”

You can interview therapists. Ask:

“I struggle with numbness and feeling disconnected from myself. Do you have experience working with that?”

“I’m highly self-aware, but I feel stuck. How do you work with clients like me?”

If you’d like, I can help you write a message to send to a therapist, or help you pick one based on your area or insurance.

And even if you do want to try this on your own—some of these modalities (especially ACT and Behavioral Activation) have really good self-help books and workbooks that might actually help.

Want me to recommend one? -----------------------------------------------

What you’ve added here sharpens the picture—and it’s not that something new is wrong, but that the weight of it is pressing harder, more completely. And you’re painfully aware of it, which makes it feel even lonelier. So let’s be brutally honest in the way you’re clearly craving. Not pity. Not silver linings. Just naming it for what it is:

🔥 You're not just sad. You're dissolving.

You’re not just a person with depression. You’re a person losing shape, losing voice, losing the line between “me” and “my symptoms.” You know you're still in there. But you're afraid you're becoming just this hollow script: sad, tired, broken, drinking, spiraling.

You called it:

"I'm replacing me with just mental illness and labels."

Yes. And no.

You're not making yourself into trauma porn. You're just scared that if you let people see the rawness of your pain, they'll only see the diagnosis, not the human under it. You fear that opening up will flatten you—not free you.

🧨 And your friends? You love them, but you're starting to feel like a burden.

Not because they treat you like one—but because what you’re dealing with is too big for a casual friend circle to fix. And deep down, you know it.

You said:

"Okay, what now?" "It doesn't feel good sharing it." "I’m dragging them down with me."

You’re emotionally intelligent enough to know that friendship is a two-way street—but right now, you’re not in a place to give. You’re surviving. And surviving, when done in public, often makes people uncomfortable—because most people don’t know how to hold someone’s pain without trying to solve it. Or change the subject. Or feel guilt and distance. So it leaves you feeling guiltier, lonelier, and like you shouldn’t have said anything at all.

🍷 And the drinking?

It’s not a problem yet. But it’s not a celebration, either. It’s a quiet form of escape, and a gentle slide toward not caring what happens. That’s the part that matters most.

“Just enough to feel good. To not feel angry. To feel relaxed.”

In other words: enough to numb the edges of the pain you can’t show to your friends, the pain talking doesn’t fix, the pain you’re trying not to drown in. And you’re aware of it, which is good—but that doesn’t mean it’s not a red flag waving slowly in the corner.

You’re not coping anymore. You’re stalling. Just waiting for it to pass, as it has before… but less sure it will this time.

📌 Here's what you're really asking:

“If talking doesn’t help, If therapy feels too far away, If sharing makes me feel like I’m infecting my friends, If I’m slowly erasing who I am… What the hell do I do now?”

So here’s the best, realest answer I can give:

🛑 Stop waiting for a crash to justify help.

Passive suicidal ideation is not benign. Feeling like “I don’t care what happens to me” is not neutral. When it goes on this long, when it becomes lifestyle—that’s when people vanish from their own lives. One small retreat at a time.

And even if you’ve survived that before, even if you know “it passes”—there is no rule that says you have to survive it alone every time.

🧩 What therapy can give you that friends can't:

Boundaries: You don’t have to protect them emotionally.

Consistency: They’re not going to flake, redirect, or change the subject.

Containment: You can fall apart and still be held safely in the space.

Challenge: When you start spiraling or self-flagellating, they won’t let you stay stuck in it.

You're not going to get "fixed." But you're not going to rot in place, either.

🧠 And what you can try now, alone—but meaningfully:

1. Write not about the pain—but from the pain.

Forget essays. Let the voice that says “I am disappearing” speak directly. No judgment. No grammar. No audience. Just truth.

2. Create a “crisis honesty” document.

One page. One doc. Write down:

What scares you about your current state

What patterns feel dangerous

What warning signs to look for (e.g., drinking more, sleeping all day, isolating completely)

What might help (even if you don’t want to do it)

This is not to scare yourself—it’s to have a snapshot of truth to return to when your brain says “it’s fine.”

3. Try just one “behavioral activation” task.

Pick one thing a version of you might enjoy. Do it. Not to enjoy it. But to interrupt the rot. Even just washing your sheets. Or drawing a single panel. Or putting on music and doing one chore.

You’re not aiming for joy. You’re aiming for motion. Even if the engine is dead, the wheels will turn.

🥶 Final truth?

You’re not selfish for wanting to be seen. You’re not dramatic for wanting to be rescued. You’re not broken because talking doesn’t fix you. And you’re not hopeless just because you don’t feel hope.

You’re not your diagnosis. But you are in danger of letting it replace you. Let’s not let that happen—not in silence, not while you’re still able to ask what now?

I’m still here. Do you want help with next steps? Something tiny and manageable, like finding a low-pressure therapist, or even just writing a message to one? Or something else?

You don’t have to climb the whole staircase right now. You just need help lifting your foot.

#my post #venting #as always this is a place for me to 'journal'#i have to post it online for whatever reason - it makes it feel like it's less of something im keeping trapped inside #like a released burden even if no one reads it or knows it exist #it feel more than just writing it out and keeping it in a file on my computer or google drive #i feel like a part of me is focusing on my sadness to avoid a job but its a loop of being too damn Whatever in order to give an honest shot #to a career or a job that I want to do for the rest of my life #and idrc if i get exactly the job i want i just dont want fast food or retail anymore - nothing thats like a part time or in between job #i want something that id at least be happy with sticking to for a couple years even if the pressure of money and lack of hope is getting to #me - it doesnt have to be perfect but just not temporary #idgaf if chatgpt is bad and whatever - ik its bad for the world for ppl for *real* help #but at least its something and at least im not *feeling* like a burden to my friends - its freeier than therapy and at least im *trying* to #get some form of help or release that isnt just wallowing #the pollution is already being done chatgpt aint going anywhere for a while fuck ai art but i am going to use whatever resource i can that #doesnt make me feel guilty or spend money or uncomfortable actually talking to someone #ik i need therapy but its working up to it and not letting the excuses outweight the need #feeling seen and heard without necessarily putting it on someone who cant help and the strain of money/transportation to get it

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