Depressed

I’ve hit the point in life where I have nothing left for me, no family, no friends, no one cares and I know people don’t believe that but in my situation it’s true, my own parents sent me to Trails Carolina because and that was terrible luckily they came to pick me up day 3. I wish I won’t wake up for some reason, I wish the doctor would walk out to everyone and say “she didn’t make it”, I’m so tired. I do not want to fight anymore and I can’t even describe how serious I’m being, I’m not living anymore, I'm existing, I’m breathing and that’s it, I’m not living, I don’t have a soul or personality, I am not human, I am a thing, a problem, a disappointment to those who come near me. I’m failing at everything and I’ve tried for so long, I’ve tried everything, I have fought and fought this battle since 7th grade and I think it’s only fair that I get to have a break now. I want it all to end, I don’t wanna stay for anything or anyone.

Well, it's good that you are reaching out.

Anyone from South or North Carolina can't be all bad.

When I was in college, I called my mother and when she got there, I told her, "I'm not good at academics, I'm not good at social, I'm not good at athletics. I'm not good at anything."

Or, as you put it, "I’m failing at everything and I’ve tried for so long, I’ve tried everything."

I was pretty much acting out the way I was raised: negative.

Were you raised in a negative household?

But I was also accurate: I wasn't good at academics, I wasn't good at social, I wasn't good at athletics. So, I didn't know where to separate the reality from the negative.

I also didn't know how to skip down the street even though I was miserable.

But some of that was my negative because that's what I was taught, that I was worthless.

I still felt that way 30 years later in an Al-Anon meeting for friends or relatives of alcoholics when I listed all my troubles in a sorrowful voice, not to my mother but to a group meeting. Same thing.

The woman beside me said, "Oh, you were having a Pity Party. We've all done that." Exposing my problem in front of a group of feeling sorry for myself as a grown baby and forgiving me at the same time. She was my new mother. This one was positive. I never felt sorry for myself again. Too embarrassed.

As a bipolar or manic depressive, I'm on Mirtazapine anti-depressant and Lithium which keeps the anti-depressant from making me manic.

The medicine really helps me.

That and that woman who told me I was a big baby. But in a nice way.

Oh, and again, thanks for reaching out.