It has been months since I stopped writing. About six months to be exact. There have been times that I would log in, read a few articles, comment on some and see how people have been doing.
Six months ago I relapsed and tried to take my life again. Six months ago I once again felt that I was not worth it and too broken to be able to be fixed. Six months ago I gave up once again.
I was placed on suicide watch and ever since then have never left my house. I talked to my shrink using Skype. It was not ideal but she was not forcing me to come out of my shell, my man cave, my fortress of solitude, my sanctuary. It was only inside the house that I felt that I was safe. No one was there to judge me, or tell me to suck it up princess, to say that I can choose to be okay or that all I need is religion to make things better.
I stayed away from family and friends and immersed myself playing video games and watching videos. I felt my mind shutting down all creative thinking, all logical thinking and lead a sedentary lifestyle. I even neglected to walk my dog and had to impose on someone to take care of him. I couldn't even take care of myself.
I shut myself in and refused to let anyone in. When friends would message me to meet up I always had an excuse. I missed birthdays, weddings, outreach programs and generally just hanging out. I just did not want to be around people.
Six months of isolation did not give me the peace of mind that I was seeking for. It did not help me address my feeling of worthlessness and I lived each day without any dream, goal or desire. All I did was just exist.
I was told to take it one day at a time. To cherish and celebrate each day that I get out of bed, fixed myself a cup of coffee and eat.
I was told to celebrate me turning on the computer and reach out to a person that I trust and just talk about my feelings, hang ups, regrets and general lack of enthusiasm. That even if I was feeling this overwhelming apathy towards life that I am still here.
Sometimes I think of slashing my throat with the razor. Then the phone would ring with one of my family members checking in.
Sometimes I think of ordering an insane amount of alcohol and drink myself to death as what happened to my father. You can order anything via app these days and I can just have it tagged as grocery items and my sisters would not suspect it. Then again I realize I don't like the taste of alcohol these days. It has been almost a year since I had my last drop of alcohol.
Sometimes when I clean my PC and leave it plugged in as if tempting fate to electrocute me. Nearly happened when my video card almost died and I was doing basic troubleshooting. Yet it just left my hand a bit numb for a couple of minutes.
I am usually asked what do I want to do with my life and I have no answer. A year ago I would say I want to get better. Two years ago I would have said that I want to help other people. Three years ago I would have said that I wanted to inspire and lead people. Four years ago I would have said I wanted to be in an organization that nurtured people. Five years ago I would say I want to head my own department.
Funny how dreams, goals and aspirations change through the years. Now I don't want to do anything nor do I look forward to anything.
Even the games that I play I don't get that feeling of fulfillment but rather just goes through the motions to past the time. The videos that I watch give me the same feeling of dreariness. Of that it should have made me look forward to something and sometimes I do feel a glimpse of it but when it ends, the feeling is gone as well. It is as if I am going through life in gray, colorless, bland.
I sometimes just sit looking at the wall until the monotony is broken by a call checking in to see if I am still alive.
I try watching inspiring videos, read help articles on depression and accounts of other survivors that they got better. Yet it seems empty to me.
Sometimes I just sit in the darkness, the hum of the AC the only thing that I hear until the phone rings and someone checks in.
Six months of the same thing everyday.
So what happened that I am suddenly here typing away. Yesterday was the first time that I left the house and met someone.
It was the first time that I spoke to someone else and not just online. The first time that I was around people. They were strangers and I did not interact with them nor they to me but it was weird being around people again.
I felt some anxiety and had to cover my ears as I got bombarded by the sounds, voices and talking all around me. I put my hood up and shut my eyes, feeling a bit overwhelmed. I felt a tear roll down my cheek and she got worried as she held my hand and said she was just there.
Six months and I still can't be around other people.
She led me towards the back of the cinema where there were no other people nearby and handed me my 3D glasses and told me that I won't see other people. The darkness envelops all and all I see is the screen in front of me. I focus on that.
The movie ends and I shut my eyes as the light opens. We were the last people out of the cinema.
I ask if I can go home now. I want to be alone and feel safe. She reluctantly let me go.
Here I am now just woken up from twelve hours of sleep and trying to figure out my emotions. I have always found writing to be cathartic and as I put into words my feelings, anxiety and fears I do not know what tomorrow brings.
Maybe I can go out again, although I am not sure...