Angst-ridden whining ahead. If the following annoys you, go read "Someone call the waaaambulance", "Here's a quarter. Call someone who cares", and other similarly mean-spirited writeups to make yourself feel better. Please don't take it out on me -- not this time.

The List of Crap to Fix™
Sunday evening, Belinda suggested that I should write a list of things I have to work on fixing. She might be on to something, but I think what she wants might be too "high level" to be useful to my stupid analytical brain. She suggests something like this:

  1. Major depression
  2. Unemployment
  3. Lack of safe living conditions
  4. Lack of companionship
  5. Lack of wife and children
  6. Lack of comfortable house
  7. Lack of satisfying hobbies and interests
  8. Lack of happiness, contentment, and peace

That seems too "high level" to me. While I've listed these in the order I think they should be fixed, "major depression" is a monstrously fucking huge task to tackle. I can't handle all that. I think, then, I need to break it down into smaller pieces before I can even try to fix all this. Hell, let's just look at the very first piece. Clearly, the remaining items can't be fixed until I take care of #1 here.

Major depression

I'm suicidal. I have tried to kill myself now three times. I feel hopeless and abandoned. I feel unwanted. The people I most hoped would help me have abandoned me. The one woman I really hoped wouldn't hurt me has not only hurt me, but robbed me. Even though she's not in my life anymore, she still controls me by withholding this money until I "give in" and go & do what she tells me to do.

The hardest part of this mess is the realization that this isn't clinical depression (at least, it's unlikely) -- that would imply that nothing's really wrong in the outside world and that my depression is caused by a chemical imbalance.

That's just not true. I understand it now -- people have been fucking treating me like total shit for years. Everyone has -- Erica, Gayeleen, my friends, former employers, even my parents. For years I've tried and tried to make people happy, always at my own expense, never trying to make life better for myself. The problem with people is that in general, when someone like me comes along, they will take everything they can. I can never make anyone happy "enough." People always want more. Eventually I can't keep up with the ever-increasing demands.

Obviously Erica wanted or needed more than I could ultimately provide her. Gayeleen clearly needs more than I can give. So does everyone else.

There are so many components to this depression that I may never find them all, even with professional help, but I will try to identify them:

  1. I feel worthless, and this feeling is backed up by lots of evidence and a lot of fear.

    In the literal sense of the word, I am worthless. There are no liquid assets left at all. The checking account is empty (probably negative now). The credit cards are maxed out, overdue, and closed anyway. All of them are over-limit, fees are piling up, and none of them are usable at all. They're coming after the cars.

    In the metaphorical sense, I'm worthless because I've let it get this bad. People treated me poorly, but it's mostly because I let them do so. Everyone has lied to me; they do it because I keep trusting them.

  2. I am lonely.

    I have given my very best to two women I thought were wonderful when they were with me. Gayeleen always treated me like shit, and it doesn't seem as bad now. Erica, though, treated me with such warmth and kindness in the beginning, even after she broke up with me at first. That she so suddenly turned around so completely and now seems to truly hate me is so painful I can't stand thinking about it. But I always do.

    I felt a strong emotional bond forming with Teresa, too. She could just look at me -- just a single glance -- and instantly know what I was thinking, hoping, feeling. She knew just when to hug me, when to talk, and when to listen. She dropped her guard around me and shared thoughts with me that she preferred to keep to herself. Just like Erica could, Teresa could dive straight through the facade I put up (what little of it that's left) and see the real me. She seemed to even like it. She wasn't "irritating" and "annoying" around me like she was around Andrew and Gayeleen. She was just herself. As much as it embarrasses me to admit, I love the woman who lived behind her facade.

    She's gone now too. Belinda of course isn't interested in anything, and she's not anywhere nearby anyway. Gayeleen doesn't even really want me back. She wants Andrew. Every woman I've ever loved is in love with someone else. Probably better people than I. Erica's love interest Grant (who she broke up with to date me then broke up with me twice over to go back to him) has his own job and side contracts. He's raking it in, independently of her. He depends on her for nothing. It means he can take care of her later if she ever needs it. I know she wanted that, and of course I couldn't give that to her. That kills me, because I would have given her all I had, even my life. I really would have taken a bullet or knife blade for her. I would have killed to save her life. I would have given her any part of me to improve her life, or to save it. I don't know that he ever would, but she seems to have made her decision.

    My parents are pissed at me, and they're gone. Surrounded by people, yet I'm totally alone.

  3. I have low self-esteem.

    I find my physical appearance nauseating. Inside, I am a shattered, broken, meaningless person with nothing to offer anyone. The only thing I'm good at is sex, but that's never enough, and nobody wants to have sex with me now anyway.

    I have never been a success, and I never will be. I genuinely believe that all this pain and suffering is somehow deserved and I just haven't figured out why yet.

  4. I feel guilty.

    Everything going on right now is my fault. I let it happen. Even now, I'm imposing unfairly on Gayeleen, Belinda, Christina, and my parents. I'm not worth the trouble they're going through, and no matter how I try to convince them they will keep trying anyway. As they realize my worthlessness as they have, they get frustrated with me and bail. It's okay, but it makes me feel guilty because I couldn't make them understand sooner.

    All this is happening to me because I'm a bad person. Deep down, there is just nothing but darkness inside me. Somehow, I've earned all this misery; I'm repaying some old debt. I hope I at least enjoyed earning that debt. Maybe in a past life I got laid every day and had tons of money?

  5. I am unworthy of help.

    I tried to go talk to someone yesterday, but it didn't work. Nobody wanted to talk to me, because everyone can see that I'm a meaningless human being, not worth saving. It turns out that going and trying to talk isn't enough. Now I have to "announce my presence." I wonder what hoops I'd have to leap through once I clear that hurdle? The only goal of any "free" mental health care systems in this country is to convert me back into a wage slave -- get me back on the grindstone making just enough money to get by and stay in working shape so I can keep toiling away to line someone else's pockets. I am but a resource, one that is nearly exhausted. This society doesn't want me anymore. I'm not worth an investment -- there's nothing left to salvage.

  6. I have lost everything I ever valued.

    I loved Erica more than life itself. She is gone. I was proud of the beautiful house I bought last year. It is gone. I had a 5.5 year marriage that, while rocky, did hold together for awhile. It is gone. I had built a reasonable amount of success for myself. That has gone.

    My parents are gone. My possessions are gone. My friends are gone. My beloved is gone. My freedom is gone. My work is gone. My interests and passions are dead.

    What is left? Nothing at all.

  7. Everyone I ever trusted, everyone, has betrayed me and/or lied to me.

    "We won't call the police. Just come home." -- my mother.
    "I'd have your child right now if you'd just come home." -- Gayeleen.
    "Grant and I aren't going to work out. I'm giving you a real chance this time." -- Erica.
    "I will help you through this." -- Erica.
    "I'm not going anywhere." -- Erica.
    "We just want you to be happy." -- Gayeleen, Erica, my parents, Belinda, Christina.
    "We're worried about you." -- everyone on #lcdproc, right before they stopped talking to me entirely.
    "I still want to be your friend. I care about you." -- Teresa.

  8. I feel teased.

    Why did God/the universe/whatever the fuck stop me from dying, but then won't let me live? Why does this place make me meet and fall in love with people who toy with me for a little while then drop me, moving on with their lives with the people they really wanted while I sit here, static and unchanging, unable to live a life of my own? Why does it force me to cross paths with people who insist they want to help, then refuse to do so when I ask for help, then get angry that I haven't accepted any help?

    Why am I being tortured like this? Why do I have to keep seeing happy couples sharing their lives with each other? Why do I have to keep seeing happy parents cradling their newborn children? Why do I have to keep hearing sappy stories of undying love that cannot be torn asunder by any force? Look at Teresa -- her boyfriend cheated on her after being explicitly told not to, lied about it, lied to the woman he cheated with about his feelings for her, complained about Teresa non-stop, then admitted he did have feelings for Gayeleen. Teresa knows Andrew won't ever want kids with her. He won't ever marry her. But she clings desperately to him anyway.

    How much of my soul do I have to give away to earn love like that? What price do I have to pay for that kind of love? I'm not a person who would abuse love like that, so apparently I don't need love like that, right? Since I would never hurt a person that way, it's not necessary that they love me that blindly. Yet again I'm apparently held to "different" standards than other people.

    How is it that I didn't earn that kind of love, trust, or affection from anyone? I helped a pregnant woman (then later of course when she was a single mother) when no one else would, abandoned by the baby's father, for no reason other than she was my friend. I held my ex-wife's hand when nurses forced a tube down her throat to pump her stomach after she'd taken them to try to kill herself after telling me she'd been cheating on me. I have constantly been, until recently, the absolute best person I could have been. I took more abuse than I had to, I gave more than I should have, and I loved as much as I could.

    Today, my reward for all that kindness and love is loneliness and constant teasing -- a constant reminder that other people are happier, and put in far less work to achieve it.

  9. Treatment seems hopeless.

    From everything I've read, even if I were to "start" the "getting help" process right now, I wouldn't begin to see any change or improvement for six to eight weeks. That's right, two fucking months, whether it's chemical or talk therapy or both. I have to endure two more months like this before I can even hope for an end to the suffering?

    I already can't sleep. I'm already alone and unable to work. I feel "disabled" in the sense that I cannot do anything. No focus. No concentration. Not even skill anymore. I don't know how I make it through each day. I don't know what makes me even get up each day. I cannot foresee existing tomorrow, much less next month. I cry spontaneously. Every time I look in the mirror I want to leap through it and beat him to fucking death. I want him to die for ever caring about anyone, for ever falling in love, for ever trying to become a human fucking being.

    I was better off as an idiot nerdy geek. Wait, no, I suppose I wasn't. People still fucked with me then, too, and it still hurt.

    There is so much old shit to deal with that never got dealt with ... how could a therapist or psychiatrist or psychologist even begin to cope with it all?

  10. Everyone says one thing but does another

    Everyone says "I want to see you be happy." Then each person, in his/her own way, proceeds to punish me for not being happy. Erica decided not to pay me. My landlord decided to steal my deposit from me. Gayeleen has me trapped here in Vegas now that I have no money and no income. My parents disowned me again. My friends all turned their backs on me. The few who remain keep putting obstacles in the way of actually getting help, or keep criticizing me or discouraging me, or offering advice I am unable or afraid to take.

    It's always the same lie: "Just do this one thing and it'll all be better." Here is a brief list of things that were all given to me to do under that guise:

    1. Calling The Bridge
    2. Calling The Bridge and begging for help
    3. Calling my parents to beg for money for The Bridge
    4. Going to the health care place on Charleston
    5. "Call me if you need anything"

    I did all these things. Notice I am still untreated, have received no help or care at all, and everyone is chomping at the bit to blame me for it all.

    I guess it was my fault for believing anybody in the first place. Everyone lies to me. I want to specifically answer #5 up there, "Call me if you need anything." My reply follows:

    "Um, yeah, I need fucking help. I need people not to be angry at me. I need someone to hold my fucking hand and help me through all of this. I need to be loved. Unconditionally. Without hesitation. I need some kind of release from this horrible pain, but I cannot find it because all you fucking people keep talking and not doing anything!"
  11. My body is failing me.

    I'm still losing weight. My knees are getting worse every day, and so is the musculature of my arms and legs. The stiffness I've been feeling lately has been getting worse and worse, and is now turning into pain.

    I feel sluggish and tired. My body is falling apart and I have neither the means nor the inclination to try to fix it.

So facing all that, just to get to a point where I can start looking for work again and trying to piece a life back together from these muddled pieces, is a daunting task I feel woefully inadequate to cope with. I don't think I'll make it. I don't even think it's worth it -- it will take months to even make any improvement, and even then, there's no guarantee that it'll be permanent, or even improve at all. There's no way to know if I'll ever find a mate, or if I'll ever have a family of my own, or if I'll even manage to be moderately happy ever again.

What the fuck am I doing here?