Yes, I still exist.
As a whole New Year’s thing I had planned to make sure that I posted at least once a week for the entire year of 2015. I posted almost every single day during the month of September, so why would it not be possible to post once a week?
I planned to write. I had all these ideas. Other people had ideas for me on things to write. But once it came down to it, sitting here on this couch with my laptop… well I just couldn’t do it.
I am my own worst enemy. I know this. I’ve been working on it for years, and just once I think I’ve gotten past it, everything comes back with a vengeance. See the truth is that I hate myself. I’ve hated myself for as long as I can remember. I feel like I drew the short end of the straw. Like I got stuck with this stupid vile pitiful girl that I absolutely can’t stand. And she NEVER GOES AWAY.
This girl is awful. She’s sad, lonely, and depressed. ALL. THE. TIME. I feel like I can’t ever escape her. She’s been like this since I was a little girl. I remember feeling self hate. I remember thinking that life would be better if I was just dead. I was too young to even understand what that meant, but still I thought things like that.
It seems to have only gotten worse with age. My teens were an angst fest just like most people but it wasn’t until college did I truly start to understand what was happening to me. I would get depressed. Stupid things would trigger me. I’m not that pretty. Seeing pictures of pretty people would set me off. I didn’t look a certain way and I couldn’t stand it. I would mentally beat myself up about it. On repeat.
I spent my college years in a relationship that wasn’t good for me. My depression was at an all time high. I would get upset over everything. The person that I was with didn’t understand, and made things worse for me. I couldn’t stand myself. I couldn’t stand him. I felt completely alone in a room full of people. In high school I had started to develop into a fun quirky kind of person. That personality was discouraged to the point where I felt like I didn’t have a personality at all. It was awful.
I spent years trying to get back to myself. The person I thought I had lost. I spent many years working on myself, and eventually I thought that I had control over my depression. I knew the triggers and I could avoid them. Relationships were one of those triggers, so I kept to myself and didn’t pursue them. I was myself once again, and I was in control. I had very few bouts of depression during this time.
A few years ago my grandmother died and I was sick. I didn’t think that my life could have gotten any worse than that time. I was so lost and out of control of my own life. I thought I was going to have to live with being sick for the rest of my life. Eventually I was able to move past my grandmothers death, and my doctors figured out what was wrong with me. I was on my path to recovery, and my path to a better life.
I don’t know if it’s true when I say that this has gotten worse as I’ve gotten older, but things went to shit for me around my 30th birthday. I was discovering very quickly that my triggers were changing. The things that set me off and upset me were completely new! I had anxiety like I’ve never had before. I was working a thousand hours and I was having difficulty with mere existence. Eventually things settled down in my life, but my new triggers were here to stay.
That’s when hope entered my life. Just a small glimmer, but it was something. With hope came some sense of happiness. All feelings I hadn’t allowed myself to feel for many years. I opened myself up to this hope and I couldn’t believe how great it felt to let it in. I hadn’t done that in so long. It felt like I was finally broken free from the prison my mind had created for me. All the things I wouldn’t allow myself to feel or do in fear that I would trigger the depression again. It was all so very freeing.
Then all hope was dashed. Hope ignored me. Hope told me to go away. Hope told me that there just wasn’t anything there. Hope didn’t feel a single thing for me. And suddenly everything that hope had kept out of my mind came rushing back in. The anxiety. The embarrassment. The depression. The crippling sadness. It completely drowns me.
Hope’s been gone for a while now, but I am left with all of these horrible feelings. Everything sets me off. I have no control of the triggers and no control of my emotions. I bounce from feeling everything to feeling nothing at all. I feel like I’m going insane.
I hope that talking to people will help me through. I talk and I talk and repeat myself over and over and over again. It doesn’t help. I try talking to different people. People with every single opinion and all different view points. Nothing makes me feel better. The triggers keep going off, and I keep falling further and further into this black hole.
And I’m left with this sad, insufferable girl. Yes, I still exist. But that’s all I’m doing.