University is coming closer every day. Thirty three days to be exact. I should really be getting ready for it. Buying things I need and packing. But I’ve been running away from this.
Ever since I found out about my depression I have been trying to distract myself from life. I’m so scared about university. I’m scared of being alone with these problems. I’m having nightmares on what will happen in my first weeks. I still have the mindset of failure. So why try if I’m gonna fail.
I’m worried about not understanding anything and being the dumbest in class. What if I make no friends? What if I spend all my time alone. Alone with my depressive thoughts and self hating nature. That’s never good.
I had a dream last night. I was moving in and setting everything out in my room. Then I gave my family a hug and cried. Then they left. My heart still aches to how alone I’m going to feel. It’s pretty pathetic how sad I get over this.
I guess I’ve ran far enough now. It’s time I ran into this head first. Prepared my self and get ready for an adventure. I need to fight this worry and fear. I can’t keep running backward in my road to nowhere. I can only move forwards and hope to grow.
I need to stop running away because no matter how fast I run. These thoughts are catching up.
I have been low. Very low. So low in fact that if I sunk any further I would probably disappear. I haven’t been this bad in a while. Never cried this much. I’ve felt nothing and everything at once. It’s like I have a storm cloud above my head.
I’m starting to feel less low. My mood is rising and the storm is calming. I’ve got my first therapy appointment booked and I’m starting to feel slightly excited for university. I have no idea where the huge build up of fear and worry has come. Maybe I’m just feeling this burst of life because I am at the end, it’s too late to back out so I might as well roll with it. Like in fantasy films, where a character is going to die anyway so they fight to the death.
Anyway, I think this storm has passed now. Things aren’t great. But they aren’t as bad. It will be nice to talk to someone about my problems. Even if the room will be flooded with my tears and depressing vibe. I’m getting back up again. Walking down my road. Off to whatever the future holds. (Probably a lotta tears but whatever).
I need to start helping myself. Talking to a therapist can only do so much. I need to create goodness within me while people are helping with the goodness outside. I am trying to love myself. There’s not much to love but I’m working on it. I’m trying to be chill more which is hard when inside I’m constantly a flame with stress and tension. With the whole OCD touching thing. I will try to think rationally. But being honest I still don’t think the things I have a problem with are a problem. My reaction to them however. Is bad.
I need to realise I have support and love around me. My family and a therapist will help. Maybe I will finally help myself instead of bottling up my feelings. I have friends I could speak to. But they only know so much, there’s things I can’t tell them and things I don’t want them to know. I don’t want to burden them with my weakness.
Either way I guess this blog post is just saying that I’ll get back up again. I’m back and ready to try. You know what they say, you can’t have a rainbow without a little rain.
I’m defeated, discouraged and disheartened. I’m so angry. I can’t move. My days are timeless lonely nothingness. I have no routine and other than the scream of university I have nothing. I’m so fucking alone and sad constantly. I have no motivation to do anything. I feel like I am dead.
I am trying to change things. The other day I went to the doctors to seek help for my problems. I cried. It was really hard to tell someone about it. To sit with someone who doesn’t know and just say how I hate myself so much and feel like I’m never going to amount to anything. How I am constantly on the verge of crying and just want to do nothing even though that makes it worse. I don’t find anything fun anymore. It’s just a way to pass the time so I can go to bed. How I have huge problem with people touching me or things. I have to wash my hands constantly. I have to clean my face all the time. People touching me makes me cry and want to have a shower. I just feel so shit. I feel like I’m lying in my grave just waiting to die.
My mum came with me to the appointment. I love my mum she is being really supportive through all of this. (Wish I could say the same about the rest of my fam. They just think I’m being silly with my touching and cleanliness stuff. They pull faces and moan. It makes me uncomfortable and guilty. But whatever.) She is the person I go to for all my help. She held my hand and helped me explain. I’m gonna be getting therapy for a while. So that will hopefully help.
I just feel so sad. I just wanna cry and hug someone. I’m so scared of the future. I’m so tired of my life now. I’m not alone but I feel so lonely. I hate being in my house because I’m always there with nothing to do but sit and think. I have no motivation to do anything. My mind is just a mess. A storm and with every crack of thunder and crash of lightning the rain is getting heavier. I cry so much it’s pathetic.
I hope tomorrow is a nice day so I can sit out side. I hope the sun comes out soon.
Narrator: Things were not good.
This isn’t going to be like my other posts I’m afraid. I guess the rest are more hopeful and just thoughts. But everyone gets bad thoughts too I guess. My biggest problem is that I hate myself. I just fully hate myself. I find it hard to find stuff I like about myself or even think good about myself. (Except for my humour and jokes. Probably the best part about me.)
I have been like this for years now. I have stumbled again on my road to nowhere. This time I’m finding it hard to get up. It’s hard to be motivated about life and moving forward when you haven’t had any motivation or strive to be alive since you were sixteen. It’s rare that I do anything anymore. I just feel like nonexisting for a while. I don’t want to die. I’m quite happy with being alive. But I wish I could take breaks. Stop existing for a bit.
I probably just sounds like every other eighteen year old. Moaning about how the world is cruel and how life is hard and how I’m pathetic and wallowing in self pity. Well I’m right. I am being pathetic. It gets harder for me to look in the mirror because a fat ugly disappointment of a person stares back. The bitch who cause all my problems. The one who threw me into this cycle of being unhealthy, unhappy and unmotivated to do anything.
I’m constantly screaming internally at life. I’m so stressed all the time to the point where I have made myself ill. I’m so unhappy with who I am that I would rather not exist. I’m so worried of failing again that i don’t have the motivation to try.
But I just have to breathe. Everyone has bad days. Everyone has demons. I guess for today they just tripped me up. But I’ll get back up tomorrow. I’ll carry on my road to nowhere.
Mama didn’t raise a quittter.