________ ________ ________
2019-10-14 / \/ \/ / \
/ __/ /_ _/
On TV, in movies and fiction, and often / _/ / /
in life suicide is the last resort of the \_______/_\___/____/\___/____/_
hopelessly desperate. The people crushed / \/ \/ / \
under the misery of overwhelming depression, / _/ /_ _/
tormented or abused to the point they see no /- / _/ /
other option or so trapped by pain that to \________/\________/\___/____/
take their own life is their only chance to
escape.
But often it doesn't need to get that bad for those thoughts to creep in.
One of the reasons depression, anxiety and similar mood disorders are so
insidious is that they are completely illogical, they are a mind at war with
itself and in that environment sometimes even a thing that at a glance looks
like a good thing can be construed as a negative.
I want to speak candidly a minute but I want to preface this with a request
if I can, because I know this community pretty well. We like to solve puzzles,
we like to fix problems, we like to build and we like to help each other out
but this is one of those cases where you're gonna need to tread lightly. As
always, I'm happy to discuss things like this and would love to hear from
anyone but I'm not interested in any suggestions or have-you-tried feedback,
though I know you'll mean well. I love y'all and I'm OK, I'm just
bloodletting.
I've had a few bad episodes and I've had a handful of worse than bad
episodes but very, very rarely have they brought me anywhere close to
genuinely entertaining something so final as suicide. What I'm finding does
far more frequently is the feeling that this is it. It's all I get.
I work full time and my job is stable, I'm married to a wonderful,
beautiful girl, my door locks my water is clean, my food is good and my
heating works. I really have nothing to feel bad about but I feel bad anyway
because I have nothing to feel bad about.
It's like a deep underlying sadness that this is all there is forever. Eat,
sleep, shit, work, fuck, smoke, repeat until the heat death of the universe.
Nothing gets worse, nothing gets better. It all just happens and nothing
matters.
A kind of overwhelming nihilistic ennui.
Between the heavy lead coat of depression and frantic animal static of
anxiety, sometimes it's the exhausting, endless hours of "normal life" that I
find the hardest to endure.
