|>>|| No. 27694
> I'm not really suicidal, but I have thought about it. I give myself a 10% annual chance.
>I'm just lonely. I have nothing to live for. I don't want to die, I just want to not exist.
I'm going to be utterly serious here for a minute. 99% of the "depressive phase" of my bi-polar cycle hasn't been what you'd think of as normal "depression". I'm not slitting my wrists or standing on bridges while Community Support Officers try to talk me down, or actively trying to jump in front of buses.
Rather, it's been stupid simple little things. Things like waking up at 7am and then staying in bed until 5 or 6pm because I have no motivation in any real direction at all.
I think often, mostly idly, other times quite obsessively about killing myself, but it's mostly a desire not to be here right now than a real desire to die.
If I could get myself a usb cable and plug a raspberri Pi into my brain and just poke around and try to find the "be happy" and "operate on the level of a normal human being" bits and flip them over I'd do it; instead I'm on (I think, I haven't counted in a while) 6 different medications; none of which seem to be helping.
This desire not to exist is what has largely formed my heavy and perhaps untreatable substance abuse problems: If I wake up after however many hours sleep and down another handful of pills with a few more cans I can probably go straight back down for another 12+ hours.
“The point is, everything, bad or good, boils back to the decade on the needle, and the years before that imbibing everything from cocaine to Romilar, pot to percs, LSD to liquid meth and a pharmacy in between: a lifetime spent altering the single niggling fact that to be alive means being conscious. More or less.”-- Jerry Stahl, Permanent Midnight
"A lifetime spent altering the single niggling fact that to be alive means being conscious. More or less."
That's me in a nutshell, there's no escaping it. I've used everything I could put my hands on to modulate my consciousness to the best of my own ability. I'm thirty five and I don't think I've really been a year sober, cumulatively, since I turned twenty two.
Sometimes I go whole months without a depressive episode, sometimes the depressive episodes can last for weeks.
Mostly I wish I could go back to my old life of sticking £200/g crystal meth into the veins between my toes and drinking a bottle of single malt scotch a night.
I apologise for the rambling. On reflection, this might be an indicator of a manic episode, I will note it in my "emotions diary".
Mods: If I've done a faux-pas, just delete my post, no need to ban me for a month again, eh?