I think I know why people leave. They get disgusted with me. I wish .... I always wish and wish...
I thought there would be some utility in blogging. I suppose it is my ego that wants my life to have some importance. I waste my life. I war between wanting to live and wanting to die. Making things possible, makes it harder to do anything. Yet if they are not possible, I do not do them anyone.
I live in between, Anchored. If you think about those steel balls that hit into each other swinging back and forth, they eventually swing less and less, and then they stop. No pendulum can swing back and forever. I think it useless to think I will succeed at anything. Why would I ever think this blog would be useful. It is as helpful as overeating. Confession has better imagery than what I just wrote.
I liked it better when just I cut myself. I never did any real damage then. I was 18 when I accidentally learned that physical pain felt better. Then I was so unhappy. I thought I was hurting every one. That downside to empathy that gets warped, because I never ever "get" where people are coming from. No matter how I think it through, I fail. Which is why I am alone, by my choice as well as by everyone I have ever known. Some people leave because I let them go, and others leave because I need them too much. The irony is poetic and pathetic.
When I was in high school I quoted Camus in my yearbook. I am pretty one of the two quotes was "In the depth of winter I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer." And I am almost certain that the other was "There is but one truly serious philosophical problem and that is suicide." (Thank goodness for google ... can't find my yearbook. He has some awesome quotes. No wonder I liked him so much.)
Who would have thought I would be asking myself, "could I kill myself if I really wanted to," less than a year later. I have lived in my head all my life and this event shows how strange and naive I was. I couldn't imagine taking drugs. I didn't own a gun. Also, I thought I would never get the courage to jump off a roof (I have spent a lot of time up high looking over edges.) And, I spent a lot of time questioning myself and my honesty. I decided the only plausible way would be to cut my wrists.
I got to this point because I had spent about 9 months alone before I started college. High school had been a refuge. I was devastated by the loss. Things were made worse my inability (disability) to get how people work combined with being bombarded by empathetic input after the stark contrast of being alone. I all I could see is how I was harming people no matter what I did. (Self-involved me thought everything I did affected people. I was nice and kind but these were self-centered, fucked-up college students (like me). I thought I was truly causing pain. Because I think I believed I could stop the perceived harm, if I didn't, I was causing it. I didn't have the logic of this but I felt it. I "saw" it (abstract pictures with feelings) and believe my understanding was real.)
The anxiety of being around people was too much for me and I really wondered if I would be better off dead. So I experimented cutting myself to see if I could. I made 3 slices on my forearm (to be safe and sure I wouldn't accidentally die.) No point to saying you want to die, when you have no willingness to execute the plan. Made sense then. I wanted to be sure I could succeed as I was petrified at the notion of failing and the imagined consequences. I thought it would be horrific to engender help and pity when you weren't really serious.
The consequences of someone finding out were unimagined. They involved my parents and landed me in psychiatric hospital for a weekend for evaluation. I was about a week over 18 so while the Tuft's doctor insisted my parents drive me (after I begged and humiliated myself, desperate to not involve them), they couldn't reveal why I was going. I never told. They never asked. I felt petrified about letting them know and I felt abandoned when they did not want to know. I felt trapped and was lied to and even though after three days I was let go, little bit of trust I had in people might help was shattered. Those three days of panic and what happened there left an indelible mark. Afterwards, worrying about how I was hurting people took a back seat to the horrific terror and nightmares I had for over 6 months. I kept reliving moments and changing what I did to affect the outcome.
On the up-side, I answered the question of suicide. My panic and desperation to escape meant I wanted to live (I felt the real desire to live, to be free like a slap in face)... (I was told I could check myself out if I signed myself in. That was friday night. Then I was told that I couldn't check out until Monday and maybe not even then. I felt stupid, gullible, deceived, and I panicked.) Just as I was contemplating giving up, I was freed.
Irony is everywhere.
There was an unexpected benefit. I learned that physical pain made me feel better and since then at times when the pain has been uncontainable, I have cut myself, burned myself, hit my head against walls (did that against our brick chimney as child, may be before I was molested, definitely after). Looking back at the superficial damage I inflicted, I think those were better choices than what I am doing now.
I can't begin to tell you how many instances I have thought through decisions, small ones and big ones — I rarely if ever don't think (over-think) through them. In case after case I look back with regret, wishing I had acted differently. Seems like the ones I think through thoroughly are the ones where I make the biggest mistakes. The stupidity of how I am screeches like fingernails on a blackboard. There is something about how my mind works that makes it seem impossible for me to ever make the right choices. HIndsight is useless and I can seem to learn from my experience. Every new instant seems different and makes sense, until afterwards, when it doesn't. I am incredibly slow and I almost never get it right and after a while people give up believing in my inability. I make stupid decisions that cost me over and over. No wonder I want to hide and stop everything. That's stupider and yet I can't seem to help myself.
So many opportunities and so many mistakes... If only ... haunts me.
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