13/05/05
my website is all over the place, and i realize it may not give a clear impression about how i feel about death and suicide on a daily basis. i may change this entry or add to it, but for now i've been feeling a need to make a start to try to organize my thoughts related to this topic.
i approach everything in life in a temporary way. it's like many years ago (clearly 15, although i was moving in that direction for a long time) i felt i had gone far enough, endured enough, and everything past that point was not about me *really* being here. i wasn't really living, alive. anything i did, it was always with the underlying thought that it was temporary, it was about me making the most of things until i could figure out how to get out. when some suicidal people become aware that a place like a.s.h exists, i think it gives them a sense of family or friendship, and they might reconsider a little, or go back and forth. in all my relationships, even the a.s.h ones, i've felt a kind of pronounced discomfort, a feeling that things just can't continue, that i have to find a way to get out.
i think it takes a kind of courage to face who you are and to commit to people, to life. and maybe my refusal to do so is about a fundamental weakness or flaw, or an inability to face unpleasant truths about myself. but everything in my life has felt wrong. the more i try to figure out how to stand up for whatever it is that i think i am, the more i try to avoid the situations and trappings that represent things i don't like, the more i try to get closer to expressing on the outside the person i think i am on the inside, i don't know, i just don't think i'm getting any closer to enjoying life or liking my place in it.
i recently read 'killing me softly' by philip nitschke and fiona stewart. dr. nitschke has chosen to focus on the cause of euthanasia for terminally ill persons who are lucid and rational, but he does say in his book that theoretically any person should have the right to kill themself, and he does suggest that the options for everyone should be as humane as possible. [i think this is what he was saying, although he does seem to stress that he wants to concentrate on those who are terminally ill - which sort of gives the impression that he does not think depressed individuals are likely to be lucid or rational. although, it could mean that he is choosing his battles carefully, since most people are probably most likely to *first* accept euthanasia for the terminally ill in a recognizable physical sense, in which suffering can be more clearly quantified or understood.]
[one case that should be mentioned is his support of lisette nigot, a 79-year-old woman who chose to end her life although she was not ill. she came across as lucid and rational - and i think people would be more likely to support a decision to self-terminate coming from a person who had seemingly lived a full life, although even that would still not be acceptable to many people. she felt that she had done all she wished to do in life. she made a decision to end her life before her quality of life deteriorated. she came across as a woman who was rational, knew what she wanted, was intelligent, and a person who had lived a full life. on a television program i watched - compass - they showed an interview with a doctor who said that if she hadn't killed herself, she might have been able to enjoy a few more years of good health, and that after that time would have been kept comfortable until the end of her life in a care facility, and doctors would have monitored her meds and whatnot to see that her last days were as pleasant as possible. they juxtaposed this interview with shots of lisette in her garden, enjoying independence and fresh air, and i guess the point was pretty much driven home: her choice was to end her life while she was still able to live her life her own way. she didn't want the care facility option, however far in the future it still might be. she took the steps she felt necessary to prevent that, and to end her life in a way that went along with who she had been in life. dr nitschke's support of lisette's decision is both controversial and brave. however, i think people are still more likely to accept a 79-year-old woman's suicide than to accept the suicide of a much younger person who might have rational reasons (other than terminal or incapacitating physical illness) to wish to self-terminate.]
some of the things he mentions related to quality of life for the terminally ill are a person's ability to live/function independently and to be the person they associate with themselves, who they are at a core level, and if these things are no longer present and a person wishes to cease their existence at this point, it should be their right to end their life. i've never been able to support myself financially, or live in a way that i associate with who i *thought* i was or would be at a core level. i experienced a kind of total breakdown during my teen years that it seems i've never been able to get past. not only have i not been able to have the kind of life it originally seemed i would have based on my early scholastic record, but the kind of life i've lived has been the opposite of what i admire, despite me putting in whatever efforts i could to find ways of dealing with my various problems. i thought of myself as a responsible child, responsible in ways that most people were not. the way i've lived my life has felt degrading in ways that i cannot come to terms with. i've gone through adjustments, my mind has been opened to different ways of viewing life and ways of living, different ways of viewing people's abilities, strengths and weakenesses. i will agree that with my website i have seemed to find something of a place for myself or a niche, something just for me. but part of what it represents to me is a place for me to try to explain why even this is not enough for me to want to live.
i have tried coming at it all from as many different angles as i could, and i have to concede that i failed. i have to concede that i *am* weak. it also seems that i am someone i *cannot* like. i can't stand being this person.
it's not that i can't see some unusual qualities that i have, and it's not that i haven't experienced interesting or different parts of what life can be. the overall picture is that i don't feel like i am really alive. i feel like i endure a grovelling existence, unable to escape from the overview: i cannot resolve the internal war. i can't accept or like myself as a whole. it is humiliating for me to live, and i live, have lived almost my entire life hiding from the world as much as possible, trying to find momentary distractions. but nothing really distracts me. i live in an uncomfortable state. daily, i find myself repulsive. i try to look at it in as positive ways as possible, but there is no disguising it. i feel weak and humiliated by life. i feel a need to be something it seems i *cannot* be.
i think my site *is* positive, and here i am able to assert myself or express my individuality. some people might suggest that i might have been able to design websites, or work somewhere in a related field or area. what i need to make clear is that in order to handle work in the real world, it requires certain qualities that i don't seem to possess, either related to dealing with schedules, details, or working with others, and if not that, a kind of organizational ability related to handling it all yourself. some people may think they get lucky and just fall into a kind of situation where they seem to fit, or that works for them well enough for them to make their living. i'm not sure it's just about luck. i think it's about connections on levels that we don't always have conscious awareness of, and abilities or qualities that people may not give themselves credit for, abilities or qualities that i am pretty sure i am lacking.
i think i come across as 'strong' in ways that make it difficult for others to believe that i can't take care of myself. it's an unfortunate conflict within my personality that i've been unable to resolve. when it comes down to it, even *i* think i should have been able to figure it out, and that since i haven't been able to, i don't deserve sympathy, because obviously i didn't try hard enough, i was too lazy.
again and again throughout my life, i have wrestled with the problems, and sat down, and forced myself to confront myself, and figure out what to do. i have put in efforts that in my estimation were pretty phenomenal, but the results they produced seemed to negate all of those efforts. there seems to be no way to help others understand what i have tried and what the results have been.
year after year, feeling that you are not someone you can admire takes its toll. and if you come to feel you are not really here, that everything is temporary, it affects any personal relationships you might have and your life situation in increasingly scary ways. i don't think i'm a monster who never cared for any person in my life. i think i've cared very deeply for many people i've encountered. but my whole approach of temporariness, which comes from this feeling of not being alive, and not being the person i've wanted to be, affects everything. i want to protect everyone from my instability, and i want to stop any closeness before it starts in part to protect others.
when it came to my family, part of what happened when i initially cared very much for all the members was that because i could not be the person i wanted to be, i could not be there for them in the ways i wanted to be, and it led to feelings of inadequacy and self-hatred which led to self-imposed isolation, which led to feelings of unbearable loneliness and alienation and further wish to leave life.
when i started posting to a.s.h, i was extremely self-conscious, my self-esteem was low in ways that not everyone could immediately pinpoint or recognize. i couldn't even admit publicly that i had no job. i was 32 years old. i had been unemployed all my life. all those years, the guilt and shame related to that, it was related to my not wanting to go outside, or to talk to people. still, at that age, i was unable to say that kind of thing publicly, in a group of people who were suicidal, depressed, many of whom had also been unemployed for long periods or for their entire adult lives.
on my website, i now say publicly things i kept hidden for years and years, things that were part of why i could not face the world. if i had done this sooner, if i were not so ashamed and repressed, would i have had a chance in life? and my answer to that is that i think not. there are fundmental conflicts within my personality that i do not think can be resolved. i think that having the chance to express myself publicly has helped me to see the ways in which i seem compelled to seek out an uncomfortable state of being.
i don't want to avoid something important, though: there are some people i would honestly choose to avoid, even if i were stronger. cutting off the social support of a family/others is perhaps part of a slow suicide. the fewer supports a person has, the more chances they will slip through the cracks, experience increasing hardships and possibly die. but could it be argued that my family was part of what prevented me from getting whatever support i might have needed to live more efficiently, and that my attempts to break away were in a way a sign of strength and mental health? maybe i'll never know. but when i have personal relationships that remind me of certain family relationships and unresolvable issues, it feels necessary for me to stay away from those relationships not just because of the damage i might inflict, but because of the damage i know those relationships will cause me, even if a person has no conscious intent to hurt me.
is there something i need to do? do i feel i need to try to explain 'enough' so that what i write/express will be something in the future to help people understand and figure out patterns, certain brain disturbances?
am i saying that i want there to be some controlled way that people can end their own lives humanely, without risking terrible injuries that may make their lives worse, am i saying that i want this kind of service somehow provided to those who ask? i know that it would be a huge relief to me if something like that existed. as things stand, i have a difficult time shrugging off what is probably the popular conception that people like me should be capable enough to commit suicide without demanding ridiculous options like this. is there any way for me to prove to others that i have suffered in ways that make it difficult for me to be functional enough to kill myself? that i am as disabled as a person who is terminally ill in a quantifiable physical sense? it sounds ridiculous. it sounds like i am a weak, irresponsible person, or that i am irrational or too depressed to think clearly. but even if it is possible for a person to kill themself, not all options are appealing. one major drawback is that *someone* has to find the body, unless you are resourceful enough to find a method that includes cleanup, like your body is eaten by sharks, or something, but i'm not sure you can guarantee that sort of thing in very many cases. it is extremely difficult to find a way of killing yourself that isn't going to be difficult or messy for others in some way. the thing is, if years ago a service like this existed, with people involved who were prepared for the details involved with the job (would such persons actually exist, though?), i feel certain i would have made use of it, and taken 'responsibility' for myself all those years ago in the only way that made sense. as things stand, i've endured many more years feeling worthless, living a leech-like existence. i have successfully managed to pull away, distance myself from everyone i've known to the extent that i don't think they'd even notice if i were gone - with the exception of one person, and we have an unbalanced co-dependent relationship that in the long run i think he will be better to be without. at any rate, i don't think he would try to convince me to live. in a way, i think he would probably find it for the best *for me* if i were to die, even if he could only reluctantly admit that to himself. if that is true, if i am assessing the state of my life and relationships correctly, if i'm not mistaken or seeing things wrongly, could anyone argue that my departure would be any great loss? and is any of that relevant anyway if *i* personally don't want to continue my life?
is there any psychiatrist out there who could look at the way i express all this, see the facts and details of my life, my history, my age, etc, and think that i *realistically* have a good shot at enjoying my life and feeling good about myself with medication and therapy? honestly? isn't my prognosis extremely poor, no matter what? if anyone did treat me, wouldn't it be mainly with the aim of keeping me subdued and from killing myself? is that any way for any person to live, especially if they most emphatically do not want to live in that kind of state?
i do not find it surprising or feel sorry for myself that i have lost my personal relationships. in most cases, i recognized as it was happening that i couldn't hold on, and in most cases i made a decision to try to explain to some extent to the person involved before i caused more damage. i feel loss, and i feel loneliness, and at times these are overwhelming. but the alternative is either like asking others to hang around and watch me shit and piss myself, in part by scaring the fuck out of them or alienating them with my panic, despair, emotional distress, conflict, inconsistency and instability, which in my opinion can end up becoming a form of emotional abuse or torture to others, and as a result a further torture to me (even if people *think* they want to keep me in their lives, i usually guess that they don't really know what they're in for, and even if they do, it feels to me like something i personally couldn't stand even if they could), or to experience a growing feeling of alienation in part either because i can't help others to understand what i am going through or because even if i can, it seems there is nothing that can be done about the situation. except for me to kill myself, because i have tried everything i have been able to think of to cope in the moment, moment-to-moment, to make things as good as possible and there is no more motivation, no more energy, and i know that nothing really works, and the longer i put off killing myself, the worse i feel about everything i inflict on others.
i do continue to inflict all of this on gk, and i don't think i underestimate the toll it takes. i want to be strong enough to let him go completely, to let him be free of me, but it's extremely difficult to let go of the last person left in my life. i keep trying, but i'm pretty scared of facing what's left once i do let go. i hope that eventually he will find someone who is a nesting creature like himself, and that he will have a chance to enjoy someone's company rather than never know anything except what it's like to feel constantly burdened by the responsibility of caring for someone who is never going to get better. how can it be possible for me to feel good about myself in this situation? and if the solution is to just *decide* to try harder to be a better person, to make the most of any given moment in any possible way, what if i've tried that to the best of my ability, again, and again and again, and maybe i'm just not good at it, because i cannot make it work? is there any way for anyone to measure my efforts and to truly judge me as not trying hard enough? and if i am just a whiner, what if i just can't see any way to be 'stronger'? what if i am simply an unappealing human and i don't know what to do about that except accept it because i can't figure out how to change it? do i come across as trying to hold onto and glorify my limitations rather than do something about them? looking at my site, analyzing the different directions i've gone in, doesn't it honestly seem like i am trying to understand what the hell is going on with me but that i might not have enough energy to tie things together or express enough coherently or express enough concisely enough? and that i am extremely confused and don't know where to turn for any kind of help? so i'm just kind of flailing wildly in all kinds of directions, drowning?
and again, it's not that i don't see that i have unusual qualities, and that there may be some interesting things i could potentially share with others. but, i find it increasingly difficult to express anything at all. i was already many years ago at a stage where i felt i could go no further, and it seems that since then i occasionally spit out the odd thing that interests people or shows them i have some kind of potential, and so they may wish to give me a chance or try to encourage me to get more out or converse with them a while, or share my presence in some way. and my exhaustion is just so extreme, i'm so incredibly depleted that my reaction to others' interest is usually a feeling of overwhelming stress and confusion, and the underlying feeling that i just can't do it, i can't string any more words together, in part because i don't share a genuine interest or don't know what i feel except this exhaustion, this feeling like it's time to go, that if i put energy into anything, what i should be putting energy into is killing myself or when i feel no real interest in anything, trying to express how far gone i feel, as i get further and further out there with no way back, in case that in itself might be of some help to others in some way, or a relief, or an outlet that i can cope with that helps to pass some time with stress, but less stress than all other options. but i do feel torn, because when i have contact with others, i feel drawn into their personal details, and i find myself wanting to do something to help. and wondering could i, and am i making excuses. and then there's the same old feeling that i can't contribute anything, i can't be a person i'd want to be, because i'm too exhausted, and i can't settle for ignoring the inner urges regarding how to handle interaction, i couldn't bear it, and so i confront it directly, and stop it directly, i make a choice to walk away because i know i'm not strong enough to handle things in the way i want, it is necessary to me to confront it and stop it before it can start, and that is the best i can do, to confront it in the only way i can because i can't ignore it. i have to acknowledge the humanness, the feelings, emotions, needs of the other, and there is nothing i can do to escape the wish to be more than i am.
when i find myself obsessed, which has seemed to happen less frequently as the years have gone by, i guess i still may find the energy to communicate in ways i otherwise would not be capable of, if a person i'm obsessed with has a wish to communicate with me, for whatever reason. but, because i've not had the chance to test out how far it would go for a long time, it's possible that communication even in these types of circumstances would falter increasingly quickly for me now. i mean, it has actually been my experience that i do run out of energy for this type of thing quicker in recent years.
i think it's ok not to worry about sucking up resources or contributing anything that others can quantify or measure or put a politically or socially correct label on. if i could find some way to just enjoy life. i just don't think i can.
and day after day goes by, year after year. and the moments pass so slowly, in such agonizing slow motion.
even in my very best moments, i don't wish to live. i wish i could die. all feelings of 'hope' for me centre around the idea that i will die in a way i like. feelings of hope are not about life for me. i have had unusually supportive relationships, i've had contact with exceptional people, i've had unusual chances in life. i can't realistically see any circumstance or relationship making me want to live, i can't see anything changing my mind. if you talk to the people i've known most personally, they will tell you i've been consistent in expressing this for a very long time - for many, many years.
[yes, all of this sucks, is too long, rambling, disorganized, but i don't think i can do better than this yet. i am not actually in a worse mood than usual - i might sort of be in a slightly more energetic or better mood than usual.]
work issues
some things become givens in such a way over the years that i may overlook describing essential aspects. if someone approached me right now, and said, 'i have a job for you. it's not glamorous, but it's honest work and would help you with supporting yourself, becoming independent, increasing your self-esteem and in a group of people you would be able to at least say that you have a job, which would seem to address some of the issues you seem to be expressing here.' let's say the job is something like working as a maid in a hotel, or working as a fast food operator/cashier, or something along those lines. i have considered these options in the past, and do not consider such work 'beneath' me. i don't exactly have a lot of skills, but another consideration is that i see the way the world fits together, i see the way people's lives fit together, the products and activities that contribute to their overall enjoyment of life, and to me, it seems that 'junk' food and travel are things that do contribute to people's enjoyment of life. on that sort of level, i am ok with this kind of thing, and also with the idea of merely supporting myself.
however, when i've tried to approach employment in that sort of way in the past, i haven't been able to follow through. i had a fast food job that lasted a month. aside from the fact that my boss kept trying to force my hand to his crotch when his wife was out of the store, i think another issue was that i couldn't handle the accumulating stress. day after day, the repetition. and there were ways to be good at what i was doing, and there was a chance to interact with people in ways such that it made their day less stressful, if i could be a pleasant part of their day by adjusting to individual personalities, using my particular sensitivities in order to compensate but it was very wearing on me, and i eventually just knew i wasn't going to be able to keep coming in.
my food habits were out of control, and that would always be an issue with any job with set hours. the more i realize how important it is to control my food habits so that i have a better chance at attendance, it seems the more likely i am to binge/vomit or have out of control issues with food, which leads to a feeling of shame and self-disgust and sometimes tight clothing, which seems to lead to a kind of panic and an inability to leave the house. if i know i have to try to eat at set hours, and set amounts on a constant daily basis, the pressure of it seems to make the time drag and it's like i constantly battle the urge to binge in order to cope with the stress of waiting for the next work shift.
in the past, the idea of a job like that i think presupposed that i'd only do it for a while, until i was on my feet and could figure out what to do with myself, go to school, figure out a more fulfilling job, etc. i wouldn't be able to think like that now. i'd think 'this is it.' and because i can't seem to get rid of a need to excel in some way, and because i wouldn't be able to see a way in those circumstances that i could excel in a way that would feel personally fulfilling, i don't think i'd be able to do it just to have the satisfaction of supporting myself. which does seem to suggest that i am 'spoiled' and that as much as i hate being a leech, i somehow *must* prefer it to working consistently hard at something stressful in order to be independent.
i think it's partly that i look at any job, and don't see myself being able to cope indefinitely with the routine, the different personalities, the lack of ability to stand out. it's like i see the future, and i think that it is better for me to die, that i am just not strong enough to cope with the daily stresses that others cope with. so it looks like part of the problem is an inability to cope with my lack of specialized ability. and in the past, i would try to figure out how i could develop some ability. and i wouldn't be able to get the training or experience, in part because i couldn't follow through, or even go out of the house enough times to arrange what needed to be arranged.
what about following inspiration or taking a chance to find something different. ok, recently, i went for a drive with gk through the city. two businesses stood out to me. one had a website which we later checked out. it was a store that sold sculptures made out of recycled metal or metal scraps or what have you. i liked the sculptures. some things about the website were ok, but i didn't think the site gave the same feel as the store. the store had a more arty, less mass-produced feel. so, i had the idea that i could create a website for this business, and just offer it to them because i liked the store and the sculptures. but i'd have to talk to the people, and tell them my focus. that i'd need to photograph the sculptures myself, because i felt that was an important part - the detail, texture, etc, that showed what they did more clearly, and which the current site did not adequately demonstrate (the photos were not clear or detailed enough). also, there were a few colour and style consistency issues that needed to be addressed, and i thought i might be able to work out some things that would be more artistically in sync with the impression i had viewing their displays in person, and that i might be able to create a more modernistic look, and that i would also attend to more details, because some of the website seemed incomplete or that there wasn't enough info. i thought it *might* be possible that i could create a more rounded, consistent and stylish/futuristic-looking site. bear in mind that i could be totally self-deluded. it's just that when i saw this store, i had ideas about things i could possibly do. [added 20/12/05: heh. at present i think i was totally deluded. i can't even make my own site the way i want it. :> at the time, i was thinking that working with new raw material might inspire me to take things to a new level, and to clean up all the areas i leave unfinished/unresolved/inconsistent when it comes to my own stuff - the idea being that with a clearer idea regarding subject matter i might be able to focus in and concentrate my efforts. i might have been able to move in new directions to some extent, but realistically i think i probably need to learn more, develop more skills, and/or that maybe i need a higher level of mental organization or flair for design than i possess.]
the other store was just like looking at something out of a fairytale, and they didn't seem to have any site at all. i thought it might be possible i could create something consistent with the impression i had looking at their store. but as far as anything beyond creating sites and offering them to these people (for free - but not assuming they'd want them, just offering to give it a try, explaining my intent/aims and then presenting finished results which they could use if they liked what i had done), it would be difficult for me to see past that. maybe if other people saw what i had done, they might ask me to do something, but i find it exceptionally difficult for me to imagine doing anything like that for money. it would be like i would do it as something to do, creatively, for myself, because these two businesses stood out to me as unusual, and it was something that it occurred to me to do. if people started approaching me, i might not like their businesses, or i might feel awkward or something along those lines, and so i might not have the right 'feel' to create something for them. and i think i'd be scared of having to try to fake it. you see, i don't trust that i have any kind of consistent skills or abilities - i think that only in certain circumstances would i be able to create.
anyway. i had these ideas some time ago, and have not acted on them. i think it is unlikely that i will. i can see that there would be no harm in trying, i can see that it might be interesting to see what i might have come up with if i could just handle the little bit of interaction that would be necessary to ask these people if i could take some photographs, ask them some questions and then present them with finished results and then perhaps make adjustments later if there were things they had questions about or wanted to change or modify. i like the idea of taking the initiative, of daring to do something unusual.
so what is my problem? do i just not have enough guts to try something like this? even if i would not be doing paid work, doesn't it seem like it would be worth it to develop my skills and see what i can come up with when other people have inspired me in some way? isn't it sort of like branching out, getting a little outside of myself and participating in the world a little, if i start to work on projects that are not just about photos of me or me rambling on about my various neuroses and psychoses? and i do admit that it sounds like a good idea to try. so why don't i? and i think i'm afraid of being entangled in details and stresses that i won't have control over. it sounds like i'm afraid of life. am i just too far out the door and don't want anything to trick me back in or keep me here any longer, or do i know somehow that i can't follow through, that i will experience too much stress and choke.
ok, this is not what i meant to write about. i'm not sure what happened there, but it looks like i've made myself into an idiot yet again. i am talking about being irrevocably suicidal, and about how i will never have a job, and here i am presenting another of my inconsistencies: right in the middle of my argument i seem to come up with an idea of something to do that would involve me more in life, and that could be something like a 'job', even if it didn't involve payment, it could be something to do that comes somewhat naturally to me.
but it sounds one way, and feels another. i don't feel like i can hold on. i have ideas about things to do, but don't know if i *honestly* want to do them. there are a lot of little ideas and projects i've thought about, and maybe if i don't kill myself i'll eventually get around to them. but i feel like i want it to stop. all of it. it's like i can write about ideas, but it's with a focus of i haven't been able to kill myself all these years, i may not really have a choice if i'm 'alive'... there is something in me that i don't seem to have control over that sometimes pushes me to do stuff. i can't just decide to do it all the time, and i can't seem to ignore it when it starts pushing me. but i still feel that i want to die, and that if suddenly i had a realistic option to do so that i'd feel truly happy.
ack ack ack ack. ok, i'm going to leave this for now, come back to it later. maybe. i want to be honest about myself, but it's like i'm afraid that the scatterbrained and contradictory way i express things invalidates or somehow disguises what i actually experience and how painful it feels to me.
14/05/05
so, the focus went on jobs, independence, supporting myself. but that's misleading. a word i keep thinking about is 'genuineness'. if someone in the outside world talks to me, if anyone talks to me, what do i have to say about myself and what i do with my time, what can i talk about that feels 'real' to me, that represents what my experience is and that provides an opportunity for some kind of exchange that will feel real to me? there are clever ways of responding to just about anything. i've had a lot of time to come up with creative ways or humorous ways of explaining my life situation. it's possible to lie, and that can be creative, and it can be a clever survival tactic. it's possible to be creative with the actual truth about interests or activities, and it's possible to play things up, like one might on a job application or in an important interview. and i've done things like that, all of it. i do see that it's possible to have fun with it all, and to not take it too seriously, especially since a lot of the people one might encounter one encounters only briefly, may never see again, and it may make life easier for oneself and everyone involved to have fun with it.
but in the moment now, i'm never prepared. i freeze, and i realize always that i am desperately unhappy. i feel trapped, i feel alone, and i don't think that even if i had the energy i'd want to try to play. even if i could say that i work on a personal website that i put a lot into, it paves the way for unwelcome questions. people might want to know the url. and when it comes down to it, probably the majority of people i'd encounter in daily life, and maybe everyone, would find my site disturbing/embarrassing and it would perhaps be best to avoid letting anyone know so as not to put anyone in an uncomfortable state. but even if i say fuck that, if someone asks about me they should be prepared for me to answer.. i don't know. i do see that, but now i don't really have contact with people to even say that much to. but it's like it always was, in a way. the site is something that feels right to me, but in discussing it with others, i think there will probably always be a feeling of embarrassment related to who i am. it's not like i can be 'proud' of my site, or think of it as an accomplishment. it *is* a testament to my confusion and neuroses, and it is a convoluted and long-winded suicide note. i feel that working on it is something that does represent who i am, but in trying to express it in words, i don't think i could give an accurate idea to others about what it is. it's like in the past, i would sometimes tell people i was a writer. i wrote a lot, that much was true, and i had a compulsion to do it, and i did write in different ways, and i did try more creative things than i do here, and it wasn't just the droning on that i do here, although the droning has always been part of it, and probably usually the biggest part. but do you see how that gives people the wrong idea about what i do? i spend a lot of time writing, and maybe if people jump to the conclusion that i write in some way that fits into some category that they can understand.. i guess right from the start i'd rather figure out something else to say that gives a clearer impression of how 'bad' my writing is, or how it's not 'cool' in its unconventionality or inability to fit a category, it's simply different, i simply represent a part of life that can't be made pretty or interesting or cool or freaky enough. it's kind of like when people who've liked me have tried to describe me to others, it's always seemed to be hard for them to figure out how to articulate what's different or likeable about me. and with my appearance, it's not like any feature or combination of features can be singled out and seen as attractive. and my intelligence doesn't seem to fit any cool categories, or even easy to identify categories.
if somehow i could magically go back to any point in my past and do things differently, would i? with the knowledge i have now, to go back to a younger body, a time in life when i had more potential, maybe? and i just don't see it. it might be a novelty for a very short time, but i think i'd have the same problems i have now, only i'd become more consciously aware of them more quickly, i think. i feel this exhaustion that i think would extend to going back in time. i was fresher in the past, hadn't had as much experience, and now i think i'd see everything in life, and people differently than i did in the past. the problems i've had in finding relationships that feel genuine to me would definitely exist in the past. if i know myself better now, theoretically it would be easier to find people to talk to, right? and that's just it. there are a lot of different topics in life to discuss, a lot of potential areas in which to use my particular abilities and intelligence, right? and with what i know now, theoretically it would be easier to find people with things in common to talk to? but that's just the thing. part of what's unusual about me is that my combination of abilities, intelligence and experience doesn't seem to match up to anyone. and i could before i became increasingly complicated (or had more conscious awareness of my complications) occasionally find people to communicate with, but as time has gone on, i think i'm less likely to find people who have enough in common with me for us to communicate satisfactorily. things didn't work in the past, i explored options to their conclusions, maybe, and found myself more isolated.
i think what i don't always consciously realize is that out of all the topics and ideas and whatever in life there is to talk about, when anyone new approaches me, i'm hoping that somehow this will be the thing that causes me to move forward with killing myself, and i'm guessing this is part of what causes my stress when anyone contacts me. i'm hoping that somehow through discussion/interaction, i will get to that place, ready to kill myself. and it seems to me that that is only a delaying tactic, and that if it is the case, it is better to avoid people and face it on my own. it's true that i have found some online interactions to be extremely interesting and to have added something significant to my life. but if the other person seems to want to play games, or is embarrassed enough about certain things that they try to hide things in unusual ways, or wants to impress me with knowledge or wants me to impress or entertain them in some way, or seems to want the status quo in life, in whatever way, and i've been guilty of all these things, but now don't want them, and will try very hard to just stop these kinds of things or avoid them. but through the interactions i've had i've kept trying to express more, and to let more of all those things go. i want to strip those things away now, and get to where i'm going. no more delaying tactics. and i think it's starting to show more in my life. i think it's becoming more evident that i am committing a slow suicide, that i have pulled away from people and life in ways that can't be hidden any more. i am not content to just have someone's company, for someone to hang out even online. because of the stress i feel in any interaction, which doesn't seem positive stress, it seems better for me to stay on my own and keep trying to pull away further until i finally kill myself. it's not a question of protecting people, though, as the basis, although i do see it's part of it. i just can't communicate. when i'm faced with the situation, when people contact me, i don't enjoy it. it's been a very long time since i actually enjoyed receiving contact. email, whatever. i keep hoping for some kind of message i will like, but what happens instead is that every contact that occurs seems to feel stressful to me in unpleasant ways. and it's not that i don't see interesting qualities in people, and it's not that i don't see possibilities or appreciate what it takes to reach out to me - i think in a lot of ways i can be a scary person to approach. it's that i think i'm at a different stage, and can't use the language others do now, my level of energy is different, the way i approach everything is different in some way i don't know how to explain, but when i'm in it, i know it just feels so unbearable, and it feels like it must be evident how difficult it is for me, but i don't think it is. sorry for being so simplistic, but when i try to communicate with others, it might be sort of like i feel like a fish out of water, dying, only people don't recognize my flapping and flailing about for what it is. i keep trying to warn them or to get them far enough away that i don't have to experience the added discomfort of them watching up close, because i can't shut off the awareness.
why, why is it that sometimes i have a wish to communicate with someone even if i know they are not in my stage? and i think sometimes that maybe for a brief time i'd be able to communicate in a way that would feel genuine to me, something in the way the circumstances and personalities are uniquely aligned that for a moment i have the right opportunity to express something genuine, something that needs to get out, something that might give a feeling of release, or that might add a kind of excitement that makes all the rest momentarily more bearable, or gives me a kind of energy for coping with more in life for a brief moment. maybe sometimes certain others act as catalysts to help me express whatever it is that i need to express for whatever reason.
i'm not explaining well. i'm muddling through all of this. it's not at all what i intended. thinking about it earlier, before writing, it wasn't so muddled or simplistic. it's so difficult to write anything.
why is it so slow? i can see that if things keep going as they are, maybe i will just continue to lose things in small amounts, maybe eventually i won't ever wish for contact with any people at all, i'll have no hope about it ever being pleasant in any way. but by the time i get to that point, it seems like i'll have less energy and it all looks so scary, it seems like i need to make a decision before it gets worse, but i've written this sort of thing before and somehow it keeps going the way it's been going.
i feel a kind of guilt about my site today, about how it might hurt others, or might have already hurt them. if in my disclosures i've not been considerate of privacy, feelings, if there are things i've been unfair about. and it's like i want a chance to explain, or to apologize or remove some things. but maybe the damage has already been done, and all that can be done is for people to distance themselves and write me off. i want to say i'm sorry, and that if i'm made consciously aware of my unfairness, i'll make an honest effort to address it, and to fix what i can. it seems like this is the only place i have and maybe sometimes or often i go overboard, but i do realize that at times i may lose touch with reality, with the reality of others' lives and feelings and the way they think and react, what they value. at times i'm not sure to what extent my perceptions, values and everything else are bizarre or out of touch with those of others. at times, worrying about this kind of thing is part of what makes me think i should remove my site. but i think i need the site. not ready to let go of it. i'd prefer to try to address any unfairness if it's brought to my attention.
and again. yuck, i've said so much of this before. and i could delete, a lot of the time i do. i'm not sure why, but i feel like i need to put something out there today.
suicide attempt at age 16
i have publicly and privately disparaged and belittled my attempt at age 16. it's so difficult to sort through all the layers of experience and embarrassment and try to get to an accurate representation of how it really felt at the time.
for more than two and a half years at that point, i had been dealing on a daily basis with an ever-increasing depression that i was not coping well with. i had asked to see a p-doc, but when the first person was not really appropriate i became discouraged and gave up, and i was not encouraged to seek another one, although i did walk around with my head down, had a generally depressed appearance and often said that i was depressed if asked. i think that in part the depression was related to anxiety, which i had always experienced to a fairly high degree, but i thought it was a sort of normal thing, and saw degrees of it in various other children.
i have mentioned some of the physical symptoms of anxiety that i experienced. i also experienced mental stress. i had trouble concentrating, and often when it came to trying to do my homework, i would spend hours looking at something simple, trying to get my mind to focus. by my second year of high school, i just stopped doing homework or studying for tests, but this was not noticeable by others because my grades were high. in the third year of high school, i started skipping school on a regular basis. i wrote my own notes and was good at forging my father's handwriting - he was actually sort of proud of my work when he saw examples of it. when i stayed home, there was some relief of anxiety, but not of depression. it was pretty miserable. the more i skipped school and stopped trying, the further i'd push the boundaries, the more i felt i was ruining my future, or throwing my life away. i often found myself saying, 'i don't care' to myself. and i'd question that, and feel a bit afraid of it, afraid that if i didn't challenge that thought that i'd have no chance in life whatsoever. and i'm not completely sure if part of me was rejecting the values or rules related to school, society, various institutions, but that i was too much of a 'good girl' to understand that, or if my anxiety and depression were at such extreme levels that it was like a state of torture and i was just saying that i couldn't cope with what i was supposed to be coping with.
the next step was losing control. for a couple of years, i had turned down alcohol or drugs when offered these things. then, the first time i got drunk, i got *extremely* drunk and totally lost control. this happened a couple more times, and once this landed me in the hospital, and as a result i was prescribed antidepressants. my father grounded me a few times, but wasn't consistent about it, and then also decided to get drunk with me, providing alcohol himself, in the house. almost immediately after this, his girlfriend of about 5 years (i'm not sure how long they were together exactly) moved out.
i took the antidepressants for a while, perhaps a few months. i didn't notice any improvement whatsoever, and in fact things felt worse to me because i constantly had a dry mouth. (i was taking tricyclics.) at a certain point, i realized that things were so serious that i couldn't see any solution but to get out of life. i don't think it was what i really wanted, but i didn't feel i could endure my life the way it was, and i didn't see any way for it to change. i started to stockpile my antidepressants rather than take them on a daily basis. i didn't know much about how reliable they'd be for a suicide attempt. i didn't really think about that. i think it's a common, instinctual thing for suicidal persons to save drugs for an attempt. i also started a collection of amphetamines that i bought from a guy at school with my allowance (allowance is a bit of a misnomer. i didn't get anything consistent, and sometimes it was overly generous, and sometimes i didn't get any allowance, and sometimes if i did something like cut the grass, which took 5 1/2 hours with a push mower, i was given $5-$20, which i thought was way too much and that i should have been doing it, and a lot more, for free). rather than take them recreationally, i just saved them up. (i had tried marijuana and a few other things, often in conjunction with alcohol at this point, but i was never a 'cool' or rebellious kid. i was self-destructive and excessive, and right from the start, i think others noticed or couldn't help but notice the self-destructive, somewhat pathetic element.)
the day i wrote exams drunk (also having not studied at all, but this was nothing new by then), i was also to be picked up from the school by my mother and her boyfriend to spend march break with them up north (i may have been anxious/freaked about this, as well as about my exams. the 3 exams i wrote on this day were the only ones i have ever failed. it was also not a 'normal' occurrence for a student to have 3 exams scheduled for one day. i had an unusual assortment of subjects, and it just worked out this way). an older boy who had asked me out a million times and who often came to school drunk provided alcohol for me on this day. i had always turned him down, but then one night he convinced me to go to a party 'as friends'. he gave me some beer on the way. i guess everyone knew my reputation with alcohol. he drove me to a secluded place in the woods, and i completely blacked out, but he told me later that he couldn't believe i had 'struggled so hard' when he tried to have sex with me (there was no party - it was a pretext). i had apologized to him after that night, embarrassed, and said that i was sorry if i had done anything to lead him on, but that i wasn't interested in him in that kind of way. he still wanted to be friends, but kept trying to get me to be his girlfriend, and since at this time he was the only person i hadn't seemed to totally alienate by being so depressed and morose all the time, or self-destructive, it was kind of difficult to refuse the attention after a while. and he said i looked like 'the saddest girl in the whole school', which seemed a kind of acknowledgement that what i was going through *was* visible. (it was not a 'positive' relationship, and in the end turned very abusive - him toward me - and throughout it i broke up with him again and again until i finally made it stick. he continued to make attempts to contact me, but my family moved and he wasn't able to track us down for a couple of years.)
when my father found out about the failed exams, he kicked me out of the house, giving me half an hour to get my stuff together. i had exaggerated how bad things were at school, in part because if he had known i had only failed a little and that overall i wasn't in danger of failing anything that he still wouldn't realize anything was wrong with me, that i needed some kind of help. i had no idea where to go. i had no money, no resources. we lived out in the country, there were no buses at this time of night (and even in the daytime i think it would have been a 5 mile walk to the nearest bus that i had awareness of), and i had no money for anything like that. i was too panicked and shy and weird to think i could cope with hitchhiking, and i had no idea where i'd go if i did. the idea of going to toronto scared me, and i kept thinking of my skin, how somehow i'd have an experience in which someone would see it.
i had no idea what to do, and i felt out of control and i felt misunderstood, and there was panic. i didn't know how to see it then, or articulate it, but i think it was related to how depressed i felt on a daily basis, and that it wasn't seen or understood by anyone. i think in panic and despair, in a kind of wild gesture, i overturned the dining table that we were sitting at. but even in that situation, i was conscious of not hurting anyone, and i did it in such a way that it was dramatic without hurting anyone or breaking anything. and yet my father made a great deal about saying how i had overturned the table *on my sister*, and how this was an example of my violent nature. he had a habit of expecting his daughters to be tougher than boys physically, but hypocritically when it served his purposes he would change sides and focus on how small and feminine we were. in this instance, my sister was not physically hurt, although i will not deny that the circumstances were not likely to be good for her psychologically. my father just needed to play up how violent i was, and dragging her into it in that way, showing her as a physically small, weak being made me seem worse when he described the scene to others. it invalidates the depression i experienced, and takes the focus off how i might have expressed to him with a desperate, dramatic gesture that his treatment of me was inhumane and nonsensical. this is one of the sorts of things i find so difficult to articulate, about how certain people see my personality and experiences in ways that feel unfair to me, but that i feel hopeless about trying to explain. [note: an important and relevant issue when it comes to awareness of my actions/not causing damage is that i have extremely deep-rooted concerns about causing monetary expense to anyone. bulimia is related to this: food was one expense that was considered necessary, and i was never reprimanded about how much food i ate. when i was out of control with food, i think part of it represented that some of my other needs were not being met, but i didn't know how to articulate it. also, i have a very deep-rooted impulse to not hurt others. if my actions were only manipulative, then maybe i'm just a totally repulsive creature, because in the moment i felt incredible distress, and honestly didn't know where i'd go or what i'd do. i don't think the suffering or lack of resources (technical as well as pychological, mental) can just be discounted. also, it could be argued that my dramatic display was the sort of thing i had witnessed often between my parents - except they actually took it further, and weren't as concerned with hurting each other. the very few times i ever displayed behaviour like that i seemed to face consequences that they didn't ever have to face.]
[for the record, even though my father has always been sure to 'warn' psychiatric staff of how violent i am, i have never had a violent episode that police, pdocs, hospital staff, therapists, etc, have ever seen. the *very* few 'violent' outbursts in my life have mostly seemed to be in response to something my father has said or done - for instance, in the most notable case: on a cold, rainy, muddy night when i was too depressed to move he (violently) dragged me outside without a coat in my socks *by my hair* to make me help feed the horses and when i slipped in the mud i experienced a lot of pain because i was being dragged along *by my hair*, and i had just been going along with it, but something snapped in me and i experienced a feeling of rage and started to fight back, to try to escape and run away. and, my father was more than 9 inches taller than me and pretty much exactly twice my weight, had at one time been a world-level athlete in a brutal sport, and at another time had been a teacher of judo. he was *punching* me to subdue me, and i was taking it, and telling him i fucking hated him, and giving back what he gave, without it ever once crossing my mind that i could fight 'unfairly' by kicking him in the most sensitive place. and despite all that, i think it's possible i scared the fuck out of him, and perhaps he's made me pay for it. i did end up running away, btw, i ran as fast i could down the road, which was washed out with mud, i ran and ran and ran, and he didn't even try to catch me, and i ran until i came to a big tree, and i climbed the tree and sat in the tree for a while thinking, trying to figure out where i could go, what i could do, and it was very cold and i knew i was beaten, and just went back to the house and things went on as before. as for feeding the horses: i had sometimes done this on a regular basis, sometimes not. i usually did it when asked, or when it was part of my regular routine (during a period of severe depression in the summer just prior to this school year i stayed in bed for a couple of weeks, and during this time he had to physically drag me down to the barn to help with the horses, but i didn't actually resist, without his 'assistance' i don't know if i could have made myself walk down there. i mean, i felt extremely depressed. the rest of the time i could only get out of bed to go to the toilet.) but things changed a lot, and often rules or schedules were not clear. on this particular night, it seemed to me that it was not a thing i had been aware of as a set job, it seemed to be a spur of the moment thing that my father decided i had to do right in the moment and i wasn't psychologically prepared. i was in my bedroom with the door closed, sitting in a very depressed state, sitting still, not doing anything, not listening to music, just trying to recover from the school day and refocus for coping with the next day.]
i ran upstairs, and started taking all of my depression medication and everything else i had saved and everything i could find in the bathroom upstairs. it was not for show, and it was not to punish anyone. i had *no idea* where to go or what to do, i was already at the end of my rope, i had no coping resources, and i hardly knew anything more than just the action of putting into me as much as i possibly could. i had been saving these pills for when i didn't think i could go any further, when all was completely hopeless. at a certain point, i noticed that my sister had come upstairs, and i realized that she would probably tell someone and that i might be taken to the hospital and live. i thought that with my constitution it was probably likely i'd live, but this was not based on any knowledge i had about how lethal what i had taken was or was not. i was fully prepared that this *might* be it, that i might die as a result of my actions, and while i don't think i really honestly wanted to die at that time, i do feel that i *was* prepared to face the consequences of my actions, and i did feel that there were no solutions for me in life that i could see. (it took an ambulance around an hour i think to get to where we lived, and then another to get back to the hospital. it may have taken anywhere from one hour to 2 1/2 hours in total - this is something i do not know, although i'm pretty sure the whole thing took more than an hour.)
i will readily admit that i inflicted a scene on my sister that may have been psychologically scarring. and i do apologize for that, i do feel sorry for that (she ran downstairs and told my father what i was up to and he called the hospital). at the time, it honestly felt like i had no other choice than to do what i had done. and it feels like i did pay for it, for all of it. all of the hospital staff were sure to let me know how selfish and immature and manipulative i was. and i had to show that i could see and understand this, and i had to show that i was willing to finally grow up and take responsibility for myself, i had to explain that i was going to do my schoolwork and make plans for my life, etc. the situation scared me, but it also did have a very strong effect in the intended way - i was scared into being 'good'. i did bring my grades back up, i started learning to drive, got a learner's permit, etc, and just generally forced myself to do the things i knew they wanted me to, and i hid all traces of depression. but the effort it all took was superhuman, and i constantly felt like i was going to break, and it was pretty much fear of shock therapy, heavier medication and permanent psychiatric incarceration that was motivating me until i did crack. but, i did actually think that i *must* somehow not be trying hard enough in life, that i was lazy, and that in order to be a better person at the very least it was better not to inflict what i was going through on others.
as the years went by and my efforts to live my life didn't go very well, i think it eventually became an impossible task to hide how i was feeling. when i let little bits out, i understood that it made my family uncomfortable and that it was not acceptable. it was up to me to do something about it, get help, whatever. and maybe that wasn't totally unreasonable - except i honestly had no idea what would help, and the kind of help that was available either didn't seem like it would help, or, perhaps significantly, it seemed there was something wrong enough with me that i couldn't have ever regularly gone wherever i'd have to go to get help, that i just wasn't able to do that, that there was something wrong at a very serious level. and i wasn't making it up, that was part of my problem. the times when i still did sometimes spend time with my family in later years was often very weird. in my attempts to compensate, i think i came across strangely, and there was no hope that anyone would ever understand who i was as a person. and i think that was part of why i couldn't be around them - when i was with them, i felt that nobody really knew who i was as a person, and that all my experience was invalidated.
it was a strange thing to find a.s.h and to see people openly admit negative and depressive thoughts. jamie allowed me to do that, but he didn't seem to have any himself. i did find that there are different degrees of what's acceptable to different people even on a.s.h, though. i no longer read a.s.h. i think it's a good place, and think that i would even when people are complaining about how bad it is, not like the olden days, etc, be able to always see glimpses, unusual people, interesting things, but i can't handle going there any more. since my website grew to the monstrosity it now is, it seems that this is the only place i feel comfortable. i am not socially adept or civilized enough any more to go back.. it's like i have a need to isolate, or it's just more natural to me.
there was something wrong when i was a teenager. i was experiencing something difficult enough for me that i lived in an unendurable condition. through some of my efforts, at times life has been slightly more endurable for brief moments, but it seems that whatever was wrong then, whatever abilities or qualities i might have needed to work on then - it's all still an issue now, none of what was originally 'wrong' has been solved.
ok, i don't want to get into all of those theories for now. i'll try to stick to the topic of describing my history of depression. i think what i was trying to say was that whatever was wrong back when i was a teenager is something that has still not been addressed. i've somehow managed to exist all this time, sort of cringing and hiding from life most of the time, running blind from one 'safe' place to another while the gaping wound very slowly kills me. i'm a kind of fugitive, still protecting myself from people who look at a person as a collection of symptoms to categorize and not as an individual, protecting myself from the system which has never seemed to work in my favour. mostly, because i do seem to have some unusual qualities, and strengths in certain areas, i seem to focus such that my life is a life outside the norm, far enough outside what is easily understandable that i can't point to foul play or claim disability, and must find my own ways of 'surviving', without any of the 'help' that applies to cases that are not necessarily less complex, but that may be more easily categorized for practical purposes.
and i don't know what i'm doing, except in a bumbling way trying to explain how i got here, to where i am today, what i've experienced along the way and what i experience now. and i know it's not enough, i can see what i'm leaving out, how so many areas are unclear, and it's just so difficult to figure out how to say enough.
i know a lot of people think it's not so hard for a woman to be dependent on a man, that it's not as hard on a woman's self-esteem to be dependent in that kind of way. and i don't know how to explain that for me, it *is* incredibly hard on me, and in fact it's like it's against my religion. in my early relationships, the ideas i expressed, the way i approached relating, and the way i saw life - from a very early stage my whole approach was not conventional, and did not allow for me to be dependent. the whole point was that i had a kind of emotional or psychological independence and unconventionality that *required* i have technical financial independence to back it up. but even in being dependent on the two men i have been dependent on in longterm relationships, i have not tried to hide anything about who i am. within my dependence, i have struggled to have whatever psychological independence i could, and i have offered everything possible to help the two people involved come to terms with my approach. i think often the outside world has viewed these relationships in conventional ways, and judged me harshly, and that my efforts to be honest about myself and to try to give the two persons involved whatever info they needed to decide for themselves about what they could handle or not handle have been dismissed or discounted or simply not comprehended.
does anyone even read any of this? i feel this is badly written, but i feel like i need to put it somewhere for now. i don't know if i'll ever be able to organize things better. and i may remove it, feel embarrassed later. i know, what i need to do is create a cute little mini site all about suicide! break it all into manageable chunks, add appropriate images, cross-reference all my problems and neuroses and i'll be all set. 'always look on the bright side of death.' etc.
i'm not sure, but i might start working on a few things soon. in the last few days, it feels like i've sort of been clearing a few things out, reorganizing or redistributing details so that i feel better able to concentrate. (?) there's not much i feel i can do except wait to see what comes next. i've been online a few times in the last few days, but may go off again for an extended period and see if i work on anything.
[update about the possum: she does definitely seem to have a baby. the pouch is becoming more defined, the opening more defined as well. at this time, the baby is probably attached to a teat, and it isn't in its best interest to try to disturb it or peek in at it. so, there will probably be some waiting until it is big enough to poke its head out and say hello. or whatever possum babies do when they get a little bigger.]
i currently have a cold and am uncomfortable related to that on top of everything else.