The irony in all of this is almost funny. I received a diagnosis I knew I was going to get (but still begged and pleaded with myself that I wouldn't), and directly following wanted so badly to tear away from myself. It's almost like until it had this big official tittle, there was still this chance that it was just something I was dealing with. Like a tiff. A rut. But this is much bigger than that. I know because I didn't leave my bed until 7pm and missed all of my classes. I know because my lack of appetite and sleep got worse. I know because I feel like I want to die sometimes. What a fucking drama queen, I know. Like how stupid do I sound right now when I have already dealt with the suicides of two friends? I saw what that did to the people around them. I've seen even more people take to cutting themselves and have stopped a couple of people, friend or stranger, from that same slippery slope and yet HERE I AM with these thoughts. These poisonous, lingering thoughts. Like none of that mattered. And there are people in this world that I will make sure never have to see me this way. Whatever that may mean. At this point I'm just another cliche, but I guess that's alright. Not much I can do about that other than wake up each day, look in the mirror, and stare blankly into the nothingness of it all.
I get so angry with myself. I catch myself feeling distant, and that frustrates me so I try to force myself to feel something else. But then I get frustrated when that doesn't work either. So then I keep trying more and more band-aids until eventually I feel so cornered by myself that I want to pull at my skin. And sometimes I do. It's crazy to me that the brain can do that. Emptiness can do that. I fall into these pits and images of pulling at my skin and shedding it are all that comes to mind. On the worse days, it turns physical (when I have the energy to do it). I'm fighting hard to find something under all of my shit that's redeeming-- and I haven't found it yet. Like in those stupid house tv shows where there's always a wood floor under the ugly shag carpets. I can't even fucking eat these days which is ridiculous. Jon not liking food? Who could've possibly imagined that.
I'm looking for God everywhere. But all I come to is that I deserve all of this like some self-important asshole. Or maybe I do deserve it. I flip back and forth on that daily. This is what I get for thinking I was special and could make everything in my life coordinate cleanly without anybody being hurt. This is what I get for all my decisions and misguided fears. Sometimes I go to rugby practice and insist that the coaches let me hold the tackle pads, because it feels good to have somebody hit me. I ache for somebody to hurt me. I'm catching myself clawing for it. I picked the perfect sport for it.
I've been praying and listening to inspirational speakers and watching sermons and doing devotionals since November and to my dismay, I have gotten worse? I can't comprehend that. I've seen every TED talk or Les Brown speech that was ever recorded. I've read blog post upon blog post and have reached out to friends. I've served my community tirelessly and done things that used to make me happy. None of it is working. So now I'm sitting on the ground with my hands up in the air, genuinely at a loss.
I hate coming on here and bitching and moaning about my life, knowing that some time in the future I'm going to look back on this and feel bad all over again. Or at least embarrassed. But in my first counseling session I was told that I'm way too hard on myself (meh, different strokes for different folks) and that I have to let myself just feel what I feel. So I'm doing that.
Feeling what I feel.
And today I feel so damn tired.
Growing up, I'd always seen heroes taking on the pain and burdens of others around them. And I thought to myself- wow, I wish I could do that. I used to ponder being able to take the pain away from those around me because in my eyes, that's the most heroic act of all. It was so selfless and reckless, but righteous. And I guess now I'm kind of doing that, in a way of speaking.
I'd like to think that all of this now, is me shouldering this pain and emptiness so that somebody else doesn't have. Like the law of averages fell on me instead of them, or something. And maybe all of this in my life will bless somebody else. I don't know.
Dear God, give me life. Find me in this dark place. And forgive me for these things that I say. Find me in this place of pain and wash over me. Help me to love myself.
I'm so sorry, God.
I get so angry with myself. I catch myself feeling distant, and that frustrates me so I try to force myself to feel something else. But then I get frustrated when that doesn't work either. So then I keep trying more and more band-aids until eventually I feel so cornered by myself that I want to pull at my skin. And sometimes I do. It's crazy to me that the brain can do that. Emptiness can do that. I fall into these pits and images of pulling at my skin and shedding it are all that comes to mind. On the worse days, it turns physical (when I have the energy to do it). I'm fighting hard to find something under all of my shit that's redeeming-- and I haven't found it yet. Like in those stupid house tv shows where there's always a wood floor under the ugly shag carpets. I can't even fucking eat these days which is ridiculous. Jon not liking food? Who could've possibly imagined that.
I'm looking for God everywhere. But all I come to is that I deserve all of this like some self-important asshole. Or maybe I do deserve it. I flip back and forth on that daily. This is what I get for thinking I was special and could make everything in my life coordinate cleanly without anybody being hurt. This is what I get for all my decisions and misguided fears. Sometimes I go to rugby practice and insist that the coaches let me hold the tackle pads, because it feels good to have somebody hit me. I ache for somebody to hurt me. I'm catching myself clawing for it. I picked the perfect sport for it.
I've been praying and listening to inspirational speakers and watching sermons and doing devotionals since November and to my dismay, I have gotten worse? I can't comprehend that. I've seen every TED talk or Les Brown speech that was ever recorded. I've read blog post upon blog post and have reached out to friends. I've served my community tirelessly and done things that used to make me happy. None of it is working. So now I'm sitting on the ground with my hands up in the air, genuinely at a loss.
I hate coming on here and bitching and moaning about my life, knowing that some time in the future I'm going to look back on this and feel bad all over again. Or at least embarrassed. But in my first counseling session I was told that I'm way too hard on myself (meh, different strokes for different folks) and that I have to let myself just feel what I feel. So I'm doing that.
Feeling what I feel.
And today I feel so damn tired.
Growing up, I'd always seen heroes taking on the pain and burdens of others around them. And I thought to myself- wow, I wish I could do that. I used to ponder being able to take the pain away from those around me because in my eyes, that's the most heroic act of all. It was so selfless and reckless, but righteous. And I guess now I'm kind of doing that, in a way of speaking.
I'd like to think that all of this now, is me shouldering this pain and emptiness so that somebody else doesn't have. Like the law of averages fell on me instead of them, or something. And maybe all of this in my life will bless somebody else. I don't know.
Dear God, give me life. Find me in this dark place. And forgive me for these things that I say. Find me in this place of pain and wash over me. Help me to love myself.
I'm so sorry, God.
That last line HURT. I wish you wouldn’t apologize for who you are, regardless of everything. You are trying so damn hard to be healthy and still manage to make so many people around you full of joy; you are so incredibly strong and resilient. No one give me hope like you do Jon. Don’t you ever give up on yourself.
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