Blog #10: Whoops!

*ahem* So, my last few blog posts have been a bit bleak. I have thought about taking them down, several times, but they are real, even if they don’t paint me in the most mentally stable light. And the truth is, I’m not mentally stable. I’m genuinely struggling right now. I am worried about money and I am struggling with suicidal ideology pretty much daily.

However, I feel okay today. Also, I recognize that people love me and want me to be alive. That voice in my head that tells me that I’m worthless and that nobody will ever really love me — I don’t think it’s trying to be a liar. I just think it’s desperate. It’s really hard to walk around in this world and keep having to realize that no matter how old or wise you get, no matter how financially stable you are, no matter how many people love you or how many people you love, none of the good stuff is promised or permanent.

We can lose everything in one fell swoop or we could lose it piecemeal over years, or it can be just one hit after another until your face goes numb and your inner narrator is just wailing incoherently. Existence is scary and painful and multidimensional.

I think about it like people who pin butterflies to a board. Yes, the the colors are pretty and the delicate detail of the wings are impressive, but the most beautiful thing about a butterfly is that it’s alive. You can’t pin that down without killing it. And that’s life — this butterfly that we’re always trying to get to stay still long enough to figure it out, but if we try too hard, we end up snuffing out it’s true beauty.

Unclench. It’ll be fine. And it won’t. And people will get fed up with you, and you with them, and then you’ll remember why you like each other and focus on that, and life is off and fluttering again.

I don’t regret the past several blog posts I’ve made, even if thinking about them makes me wince. I really have this terror of letting people get to know me, and I I’ve shared WAY too much about the worst parts of me on here, but only showing the best parts of myself is like pinning myself to a board.

However, I think I can probably provide a more balanced blogmosphere if I also pop in when I’m feeling great and life is going good. If that happens, I’ll let you know — haha! Right now, I’m okay. I don’t feel like a mistake. I don’t know how long that’ll last, but even a few minutes is a relief.

Blog #9: For Posterity

Trigger Warning: Everything

I’m pretty sure I’m going to kill myself. Definitely not today and probably not tomorrow. But at the end of the day, no matter how much self-soothing, self-healing, self-whatever I do, I always come back to the same thought: Everyone hates me and if they don’t they will.

I can’t even really express how painfully real that thought is. I want to just dismiss it as paranoid, but as I’m in the midst of that particular mental tornado right now, I can’t. And when I say that, I don’t really mean “everyone”. I am mature enough to no longer care what strangers think, and I’m actively glad if someone I don’t like doesn’t like me.

It’s the people I love, the ones that I thought loved me. When they change their minds, it hurts. And, it doesn’t seem to matter how much I try to avoid letting that happen, it always, always does. The mindfuck seems to be that I am instantly likable but fundamentally unlovable. How do you fix that? I used to think I just had to find the right people, people that I had a genuine connection with. But that doesn’t work either.

My mental illness is like a narcissistic boyfriend, constantly whispering in my ear that the people who I think love me are just being nice or that they secretly want something from me. Or worse — that they only like me because they don’t really know me. Or, and this is even worser — that they only like me because of the person they project onto me; who they think I am. So, I have to figure out who that is, and be it, and never ever share a thought or an opinion that I don’t already know they would approve of.

That’s fun, right? There’s no way to win that argument, either. It’s an un-provable statement. It really comes down to what I want to or can believe. I have a hard time believing a nice lie about myself if I can believe a nasty one.

I saw a homeless man today, and I could smell him from five feet away. As someone who has lived with suicidal ideology for approximately thirty-four years, I can say that it takes a brave person to live at the mercy of humanity. I would literally rather die than need help and risk a “no”. But there are people out there with hope and faith enough to believe that a) humans are basically good and will help if they can and b) vulnerable people have innate value regardless of their circumstances. I am not those people, but goddamn do I respect them.