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The Struggle over the years:
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Well, to be frank, this is a bit hard to just throw out there like I am about to do. Ever since I was a young teen I've struggled silently with depression, fits of anger and rage, alternating through-out my youth with deep depressions. This was also when I found out drinking could kill the empty feeling inside me.
A profound emptiness. A sense of no hope for the future, a feeling that life is nothing but an exercise in futility. Looking around and not understanding how the other students could be so cheerful when their lives were pointless. Hating them for it. Thinking they were all just too dumb to see the facts. Just cattle. Happy to do nothing but be born, breed, watch alot of shitty TV and die. An empty existance. And to be honest a bit of jealousy, that I couldn't just go through life without caring about anything.
My drinking continued and advanced into drug use as it got harder to hold on to life without showing any signs. The highs from the drugs and booze where my only feelings of joy. These were the times when I first started to think of suicide. It's not an easy thing to think of. I have come close a few times. Each was for a different reason.
Sadness, pain and loss, and apathy.
I really quit caring for myself and would do outrageous things just to tempt death. I came close a few times, but always seemed to slide by unscathed. I had a number of friends that were not so lucky along the way.
I had a girlfriend that committed suicide herself when I was around 16. I think that was about the time I gave up hope that there was any real chance for change. Public schools are nothing but daycare centers to free up parents. Kids spend most of their highschool years just letting time pass them by. Doing nothing but stagnating. There is no real teaching in schools anymore. There is no real discipline. So, the depressed are left to languish in misery, watching the second hand of the watch sweep forward. Always moving. Never stopping. Your life passing before your eyes. Slowly dieing with every tick of the second hand. Always being held back.
The realization that something is wrong but you don't know what. You can't talk about it. Partly because you are a guy and guys don't admit to these feelings, and partly out of embarassment. If your on top of your game, you dont have problems like this. Its for other people, not you. So you find ways to hide what is wrong. Acting and pretending. Sometimes for so long you forget who you are. By this point you've gotten in too deep in self medicating to be sure what's what anymore. It doesn't matter, you're a guy, and guys don't have emotions. Right? They can never admit to feelings. Sadness? Loneliness? Like there is nothing in you but a darkness like a black hole that rips away everything decent in the world. Nope. You just suck it up and keep on pushing onward.
Spending the years drinking away the thoughts, drinking away all the horrible things you've done. Eventually becoming an alcoholic. Your closest companions are shame and guilt. Never able to explain the problems. I finally isolated myself about 10 years ago. I just couldn't be around people anymore. I would go for weeks without answering the phone. I only felt comfortable at home, yet if I had guests, I could not leave the room they were in.
I felt a weird paranoia. So I quit having any company over. Five years ago I quit attempting to date at all. There was no point in it. The depression had gotten too bad. No one could put up with my moodswings. They didn't understand and neither did I. Why date a defective person then there are plenty of normal people out there?
All the relationships fell apart quickly. When the depression set in, I wouldn't want to see them, and the depressive states were lasting longer and longer. Months at a time now. I kept myself at home as much for myself as to keep other people from wasting their time on me.
I couldn't hold a job more than 3-4 years before I would quit in a absurd rage. I always thought it was the job, but now with some clarity I see it was always me.
I finally was able to give up the drinking and any drug use. But instead of the promised better feeling times to come, things got incredibly dark. I think it was about this time the voices started.
Now these aren't like the voices of other people. They were my own voice in my head, but there were 3 of them and two would argue and the third just waited in the back ground for his chance. The loud angry voice would rant and rage about people, life, self hatered, everything wrong in my life, everything wrong in the world. The more stable voice would counter with arguments that things couldn't possibly be like this much longer. No one would live in a world like this. Suicide rates would be through the roof, so it was obviously my fault and I just needed to try harded. I was just looking at things wrong. I was just being negative. If I gave it time I would perk up. Then the quiet voice in the back would whisper to me. "You don't have to put up with this and these people. You know you have an option. If you want it. When you get too tired to go on, we can talk about it. I got some ideas. Some plans. The suffering can end."
The last 2 years (2003-2005) were Hell for me. Sober, but waking up 3-4 days a week with pounding headaches that lasted most of the day. At night I was waking up about 4-5 times a night and not being able to go back to sleep for 30 minutes to and hour. Just laying in bed staring at the shadows on the ceiling with the thoughts swirling in my head non stop. The yelling in my head. The confusion. The anger that I was losing control. I started having bad losses of my temper at work, and was frankly acting like a lunatic at the time, but I thought I was able to hide it. I though no-one really noticed. Breaking phones, throwing calculators across the office, shoving around cubicle furniture, cursing to myself and ranting. I finally blew up one day and stormed out for a walk to calm down before I exploded. I walked 15-20 mins and came back and sat down and went back to work as though nothing had happened. The only problem was it was raining that day and i was soaked through and a puddle was gathering around my chair. But I didn't seem to think it odd at all.
I should have went for help then. But I thought I was still hiding things rather well. No chinks in the armor showing yet. The facade was intact so I thought. But everyone else knew, they were just afraid to say anything.
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