I don't even know where to start with this. I'm incredibly agitated and have been for several days. It's an odd combination of anxiety and depression symptoms, at least physically. It doesn't feel like that emotionally though. It's getting harder and harder to pick out what individual emotions I am experiencing. Everything seems to coalesce into a gigantic ball of irritating that nags and tugs at every fiber in my brain. Sleep is dreamless and just a continuation of what I feel when I am awake. I can't seem to think through all this void. I wish it was a lack of emotion, honestly. At least that way, I could maybe apply some logic to it. I really feel an excessive amount of everything, both good and bad along with an almost overwhelming desire to just shut things up on a permanent basis.
I have visions of killing myself. Ways that it would be incredibly easy and ways that would be completely impossible and are overly illogical. Some of the most absurd ones have the greatest appeal. For example, casing a pawn shop and stealing a gun in the dead of night. There's a reason why I won't allow myself to posses a firearm. I have a feeling that I would have already shot myself had I had easy or even semi easy access. I'm also glad I don't really drive much and when I do have access to a vehicle, I'm surrounded by people that would make sure I wasn't doing something irrational. Also, I honestly wouldn't want to fuck over my partner by destroying his only vehicle.
I'm oddly pissed off at the whole notion that if I did kill myself, it would get labeled as a COVID suicide. Fucking hell...as if I have control over what goes on the paperwork if I die but still. I don't want some pinhead asshole deciding that the reason I took myself out was because of the cause de jour. This is a long standing ailment, a fundamental part of my being. Likely caused by the original trauma of being born. Hell, even my conception could be considered traumatic. Do you suffer with the effects of a trauma that happened when you were no more than a clump of cells? Interesting question.
I find myself facing the strong feeling that nothing really exists. That the entire scope of what my senses tell me are just lies. That everyone I interact with is lying in some way. Of course, this comes off as insulting, as if I am personally attacking their integrity and honesty. I'm not, really. I'm questioning my basic perception of the world around me and if I actually exist. Maybe that's why I want to hurt myself? To prove that something is real, to point out any tiny thing that tells me that everything I perceive isn't some sort of elaborate hoax? This isn't a new agitation, not by a long shot. I've felt this way in varying degrees for as long as I remember. I guess current events are triggering these feelings in a deep way.
Is there a name for this condition? Part of me really doesn't give two fucks if there is. Doesn't matter what you call it or if there's some sort of diagnostic checklist I fill. I don't think it is anything that can be medicated away. Lord knows that I've tried. Perception isn't a "mood" anyway so it isn't as if I can stabilize it. I've entertained the thought of just eating all of the medications I have just to see what happens. I'd probably survive as my cellular survival instinct is stronger than anything my brain decides to do. In a weird way, that pisses me off.
I don't hate life. I'm confused by it, hurt by it, completely befuddled and angered by it but I don't hate it. The tapestry is interesting and beautiful. Bouncing off of things keeps me interested and curious at the very least. At the same time, I'm exhausted. Physically, not really. Mentally, I feel like I'm walking up hill dragging a boulder. Everything is weak. Just when I feel like I can't keep pulling, I keep pulling anyway. What the fuck for? I have animals and people that rely on me, this is certainly true. But if nothing really exists anyway, what is the point?
I'm relying a lot on the external perspective of others. I keep telling myself that at least these people are grounded in the mass hallucination enough to point me in the right direction. Enough people are on the same wavelength, I'm at least partially convinced that there is something to hold on to. For the longest time, the thought of everything being nothing was kept at bay oddly by reality too. I was focused on surviving, on figuring out the song and dance. It wasn't fun at all a lot of the time and it caused me stress but I wasn't thinking about how nothing feels real.
I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that's real
The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything
What have I become?
What have I become, indeed. I don't know if I've "become" anything I wasn't before. Maybe I understand it better? Sure as fuck doesn't feel like it. A lot of people I know take comfort in the faith that there is something bigger than us out there. I take comfort in the stories, in the trappings of ritual but do I think the universe is anything more than entropy manifest? Not really. The chaos is only contained because of some sort of mass agreement that no one asked for but it exists anyway. When did this start? When did the apes develop self-aware consciousness? Was it a sudden flipping of a switch or was it so gradual that no one noticed it until it just was?
When it comes to suicide, everyone encourages getting help. Talking to someone about it and maybe consider inpatient treatment. Total bullshit, at least in my case. There is absolutely nothing any doctor could do for this. There's no medication that will erase my thoughts. OK, there's plenty of medication that will erase my thoughts but nothing that will erase the emotions behind them. I'll be spinning in a circle with a crushing wave of emotions and absolutely no way to conceptualize or articulate them. I know from experience that existing like that is no help. Also, medical doctors focus on my physical ailments and assume that this whole thing is caused by some sort of body chemical imbalance and/or some physical abnormality. Even when things were in "proper" balance, I'd still feel the same way. I suppose if I were stuck in a hospital, I couldn't harm myself in theory. If anything, though, I'd figure out a way just to prove to people that their high and mighty sense of control is flawed.
Killing myself IN a psychiatric hospital would be an interesting way to martyr myself. Really an asinine way to prove a point but who listens to anyone otherwise?
Fickity fuck. How do you rule disorder? I don't have that answer. Maybe you don't. Maybe even the tiniest sense of control and order is just an illusion. I'd love to be plugged into it but only because ignorance is sometimes bliss. Stop the ride, I want to get off.
