Depressed a lot lately: is life really worth it?

[GodSpeedK]

I've been a miserable cunt recently. I was at a wedding today and just could not face small-talk. I really struggled to say anything whatsoever, even when probed by - I guess - mildly insulted people. I think I would have found it easier to eat a bucket of assorted animal cocks. A statue of oneself, a mute ghost, a broken mannequin. Have not been at all productive, been struggling immensely with getting out of bed. Developing an anxiety-influenced case of agoraphobia, where I'm most comfortable at home and going down the road to buy provisions is like an epic and foreboding journey into some minefield of raping pigs, anguish, and debilitating fear. Well realistically, I probably wouldn't be diagnosed with it, but I really find being outside intolerable. My confidence is shot to shit, my motivation is non-existent, I am merely existing and wasting what valuable life I have left. It's pathetic, it's nowhere near changing, it's a perpetual cycle of inertia, boredom and self-loathing. I can't look people in the eye, my sense of humour might as well be shit, because it's not been around for fuck knows how long. I'm not even really doing drugs, so can't blame the good ole chemicals. I feel dead inside. I might as well be a lobotomized monkey, a piece of furniture, a stale cracker, a goddamned lava lamp.

You know something's severely wrong when you have to fight back tears during Lost In Translation. Suicide has definitely been on my mind. Don't worry, I'm way too much of a pussy to do it. A minuscule amount of hope keeps me slithering along. I have to really force myself to show any signs of life when speaking with my boss. It's a grinding, brutal, chore to share pleasantries with my fellow classmates at Uni (I don't give any of them a chance - I hate them all for no discernible reason). I feel like saying awful things or doing horrendous things. I spend more than enough time imagining my funeral. Who would find my hanging corpse and how they would react? Would I write something in scrawled handwriting on my chest? Wear a cape? All this silly and morbid shit. I think the main reason I won't kill myself is that I won't get the satisfaction to witness the aftermath. As well as not owning a firearm.

I try to enjoy the things I love, usually coming away even more depressed that It's highlighted my limitations creatively and my lack of anything to call my own. Feeling jealousy towards my heroes is a new and disgustingly petty emotion. I walk down the street and look at people and just think how much I despise humans. I just hate society's nonsense and all these self-important apes, running about like things actually matter. Fuck you all. I wish I had never won that sperm race. Should have been my usual self and slacked off.

tl;dr I am extremely happy at the way things are going and I wish everyone knew the happiness that gently sodomizes my brain every beautiful waking moment. Read my post, you lazy schlag.

 

[machoki]

Hey you! I've been there man. For months I didn't pick up the phone, the first question I asked when I woke up, is what's the point? Didn't sleep, no apitate, etc... Every day seemed like an eternity, but I promise you things WILL get better eventually.
I never believed that time heals, but it does.
Talk to someone about how you feel.. If the first person doesn't care talk to the next one. Keeping everything within yourself will only make it worse the longer you do it.
Find a passion, a goal. Something, anything that can get your mind of it. A job, a woman/man... Find something that makes you worth changing your life.

It's hard to do so, but don't give

 

[herbavore]

Have you ever thought about backpacking? The world is so much bigger than what we humans have created or fucked up. You need to recharge your spirit, give it priority. Whenever I feel myself at the edge of the emptiness you so beautifully describe I turn to nature. We live in spirit-killing worlds so much of our time that we forget how to step out of all the small and narrow parts of our lives (some of them quite necessary) and see the bigger picture. When the most beautiful thing you can imagine is your own death, you have been poisoned by the toxicity of these smaller realms of existence. We are all mind, body and spirit while we are on this planet but we value mind and body over spirit through our institutions and relations.

These poems have helped me hang on sometimes:


“Tenderness does not choose its own uses.
It goes out to everything equally,
circling rabbit and hawk.
Look: in the iron bucket,
a single nail, a single ruby—
all the heavens and hells.
They rattle in the heart and make one sound.”
— Jane Hirshfield (American, born 1953), “Late Prayer”

http://youtu.be/60E9M7eh0ag

and my favorite so far in this life:

Kindness

Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.

Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.

Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and
purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you every where
like a shadow or a friend.

Naomi Shibab

 

[PriestTheyCalledHim]

I've also been like this and yes things do get better or work out for the best; but it takes time.

Don't give up, and getting out in nature can help as can forcing yourself to do things you wouldn't normally do.

 

[BlueHues]

I feel the exact same way as the OP. In addition to self-loathing, hopelessnes and bouts of severe anxiety, I also increasingly feel this strange sense of derealization, this fear that my minds gonna break and I'm gonna be stuck forever in a state of unreality babbling to myself outloud. I'm gonna become the person everyone instinctively knows is "crazy".
It does come and go, though. I have moments of peace and appreciation of life, where I can laugh or take a walk and just enjoy the day. but whenever I actually think about my life and all the horrible things I've seen others go through and the horrible self-destructive waste of a life I've been, I feel overwhelmed with guilt and embarassment. I've come to the realization that I did this to myself,ME!
Sure, the worlds all fucked up and I haven't been treated perfectly, but I chased the drugs as far and as hard as I could, until it became all I knew. But strangely, I was happier on drugs!
Now, I have no job and am being supported by my girlfriend. We get by, but barely. I've resorted to drinking because it's the only thing we can afford these days and the only thing that kind of makes me able to tolerate myself and the world around me....at least for awhile. I won't even start drugs because I know I can't afford use them the way I'm used to and it would just frustrate me to no end. I'm living in a boring, sprawling, suburban city surrounded by nothing, with no car, winters coming, etc.
Aww man... I've been depressed before but this feeling like I'm permafried on acid/leaving my body/fading out of reality shit is really beginning to make me think I'm never going back to normal. So, Fuckin A!

 

[dilated_pupils]

You know I read the first paragraph and already knew what I was going to say. I've been there, and still can put myself in your shoes but there is something I've noticed that helped myself greatly. Doing those things which seem hardest, like getting out of bed (which improves mighty quick if you do something productive in routine), are the things you need to make nonexistent. I get up to make sure I eat breakfast, something which until recently I didn't ever do.

I also make sure to put effort into staying physically fit. Right now completing my routine is my only starting goal but by the time I'm outside jogging/running I start thinking about the ways I can increase the activity itself because I know I will not stop until I finish my goal.

I suggest setting yourself at any pace, as long as it's a progressive one that's moving forward, and applying it to everything overall. Once you notice the small improvements in your personal commitments you will feel a lot better, just for succeeding. I wish you the best of luck, I'm still in the same fight as you, the only thing I can say is that it has to be something that you want for yourself - success or death?

-dp

 

[grumpygrouse]

The most important thing you must know: depression lies! Depression is one lying bastard and don't believe anything it whispers or shouts. You WILL be fine. You are NOT worthless, you are THE most important person there is.

And you WILL kick this asshole depression's butt, I promise.

 

[ugly]

HEY HEY HEY go easy will ya?

I get misty watching Lost in Translation.

Bill Murray kicks solid ass in that movie. Don't be doggin my sh*t!



I hope you smiled. Or at least thought about smiling.
I just got home from visiting a good friend. Tomorrow (Halloween) she will turn 52. On Friday, October 26 2012, she was run over while crossing the street. She was hit by one car and run over by another, and neither stopped.

The day before that, she was telling me not to give up. If anyone can get through this, you can.
(We are being foreclosed on, I can't find work, and other shit.)

She should be dead. But she is laying in that hospital bed fighting it off like a boss. She is in a coma, but she is just in there fighting to come back. I take music up there every day and play her favorite songs and talk to her about what we're gonna do when she gets well.

The doctors say she's had such severe head trauma that her chances aren't good. She's got no job, no kids, and not a whole lot going on. I think if it was me, I'd just as soon be dead. I don't badmouth people who are suicidal ever. I'm suicidal half the feckin time myself. But maybe if you ask yourself if you'd like to get runover by two random fuckers and have your life taken away without your consent, you'll feel different about dying.

I do. Visiting her in the hospital, I know that as long as she is there, I will have to be there too. She needs me to tell her what she told me...If anyone can get through this, you can.

 

[izzy66]

HEY HEY HEY go easy will ya?

I get misty watching Lost in Translation.

Bill Murray kicks solid ass in that movie. Don't be doggin my sh*t!



I hope you smiled. Or at least thought about smiling.
I just got home from visiting a good friend. Tomorrow (Halloween) she will turn 52. On Friday, October 26 2012, she was run over while crossing the street. She was hit by one car and run over by another, and neither stopped.

The day before that, she was telling me not to give up. If anyone can get through this, you can.
(We are being foreclosed on, I can't find work, and other shit.)

She should be dead. But she is laying in that hospital bed fighting it off like a boss. She is in a coma, but she is just in there fighting to come back. I take music up there every day and play her favorite songs and talk to her about what we're gonna do when she gets well.

The doctors say she's had such severe head trauma that her chances aren't good. She's got no job, no kids, and not a whole lot going on. I think if it was me, I'd just as soon be dead. I don't badmouth people who are suicidal ever. I'm suicidal half the feckin time myself. But maybe if you ask yourself if you'd like to get runover by two random fuckers and have your life taken away without your consent, you'll feel different about dying.

I do. Visiting her in the hospital, I know that as long as she is there, I will have to be there too. She needs me to tell her what she told me...If anyone can get through this, you can.

OP, ^ qft "if anyone..., you can."

ugly - Positive thoughts your way

-izzy

 

[herbavore]

that's awful, ugly. But you are so right---and your friend's fight certainly puts it in perspective. (()) to both of you and everyone else in this thread.

 

[fabriclondon]

In a weird way, seeing how fucked up we all are on here makes me feel better lol. I can go from suicidal ideation to happy to anxious to depressed to you name it fifty times a day. Hang in there OP, you're not alone in this.