screamingintoair

[screamingintoair]

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[screamingintoair]

Anyone need a stick? This will probably help me at some point.

[screamingintoair]

One ridiculously hot July afternoon in 2006, this was me, only no one was around to notice - this is the way I wanted it. 

I was just about to jump when someone came out of the building’s stairway on to the roof. It was a couple of co-workers who had come up to sneak a smoke. I smiled and waved, making it look like I was just taking in the scenery.

This is simply because I didn’t want my death to traumatize them. I barely knew these people, but I was trying in my own weird way to leave as little of a...I don’t know...”mental illness footprint”?...for lack of a better term. In other words, I was protecting their feelings. Why should my problems impact these people?

There would be more attempts that summer before I started to feel better, including the last one, which should have stuck. Miraculously, it didn’t. That’s a story for another time, though.

[screamingintoair]

Depression is like having an abusive relationship with yourself.

Unknown (via onlinecounsellingcollege)

[screamingintoair]

Things I Forgot To Mention In The Post Titled: “Introduction”

EXERCISE! I almost forgot. Yeah, that works for a whole hour sometimes. That is, when I care enough to motivate.

Weed can be of help when it comes to depression relief (It is legal where I live), but my day to day responsibilities keep me from indulging as much as I’d like to. Even if I could, though, I wouldn’t. I don’t like the foggy, mentally debilitating feeling that sometimes comes with cannabis. Too bad I’m one of those people who becomes halfway brain dead from it. I think that it would otherwise be a HUGE help.

There are probably more ramblings forthcoming. 

[screamingintoair]

Introduction

Hi there. My name is ____, and I’m depressed af.

Not to make light of my depression by slanging it up like I was a walking, talking Buzzfeed headline, but only my most honest feelings are going here, so deal with it. This is an anonymous blog, and thus I leave every last fuck to give at the door.

I’ve dealt with - and managed - depression since childhood. First or second grade, to be exact(ish). I know that these feelings started in 1979. Forty years, countless ups and downs, and several comically botched suicide attempts later, I am still here.

However, things are different now, because my life is currently much better than average (on paper, anyhow), yet I’ve never felt more like giving up as I have almost every day for the past three months. 

So why is this anonymous?

I grew up trying to reach out to people. I was told to man up, that my life was great and that I should be grateful for everything I have. This has not changed - the people who were supposed to love and support me the most refuse to acknowledge me, and thus the only family that I have remaining is the one that I made for myself.

As for that family, my husband is also suffering terribly. It’s a potentially dangerous, toxic situation. He knows that I’m suffering, and he cares, but his suffering is so great that I wish not to burden him further.

As for friends, whenever I reach out, I get some support, but all I really get out of that is guilt. Guilt because I took people who really care, and I made them worry about me. I have problems that they cannot solve for me. 

I can tell them that I’m hurting. I receive love in exchange. 

Sounds great, right? I am lucky and blessed. This I know.

Yet, it doesn’t help. It appears to serve no purpose other than to create worry and bad vibes. Therefore, I do not want to waste their time and energy anymore.

Then there was the time I reached out on Facebook and forgot to filter the post, and I got a weird rando (with their own issues, thank you but no) checking on me constantly. At least I got blocked when I finally (politely) asked them to ease up.

As for the conventional solutions:

Meds can fuck right off. Period. Been there, done that (several times), and I will not be exploring pharmaceuticals as an option.

Therapy...well...I have Kaiser Permanente for health insurance, not exactly a bastion of mental health support, in case you haven’t heard. The last time I tried going that route, they assigned me to a social worker (no offense to social workers and their tireless, often thankless efforts, but as a talk therapist? WTF?) who was so overbooked that I was lucky to get in every three weeks.

Besides, it really hasn’t helped in the past for severe depression, and pouring my heart out live, in person, to someone I probably wouldn’t connect with otherwise, is just plain uncomfortable. I’ve tried it many times, though. I find that it works when I’m feeling all right and needing to work out a minor issue, but not for major issues.

Let’s see...meditation...yeah, I do that every day. Still waiting for it to work for more than five minutes after I’m done. I’ll let you know.

So...now I am doing this. Screaming into air, hence the username “screamingintoair”. I don’t know if anyone will ever see this, and I don’t know yet whether or not I care. Maybe just putting my words out there is therapy enough. Time will tell.

I just hope that someone can see this and relate, know that we are not alone, and that I can keep myself from giving up. The only thing keeping me alive right now is the knowledge of how much it would fuck others up if I left. My husband and fur babies depend on me. My friends, some of whom are dealing with profound loss already, need me to NOT give up.

I’m just afraid of what happens if it gets so bad that I stop caring. What then?