This is terrifying. I'm not even sure what I'm gonna say, and that's the scary part. It feels like my rage will take over, change my wordprint, and offend every innocent bystander who might be out there. My anger is boundless, but lacks a basis. Mostly, I just want to languish in my fear and confusion. Maybe I just need someone to throw me into a freezing cold river so I'll have a reason to flop around and scream. A sign up sheet for people who are pissed off with my depressive demeanor is going up.
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I don't pretend to understand depression. Heaven knows I can't even hope to understand myself. I love curling up with a book, snacking a cracker or two, holed up without texts pestering me or YouTube begging for my well-deserved attention. But then I'll pick up a cracker and see it's nutritional value instead of lightly salted surface and I look see my book as a black hole instead of an open window and I see my blissfully blank screen as the sign of ultimate abandonment.
I know it's ridiculous; I know that I have a happy enough life, I know that I'm loved, I know that I'm gonna be okay. But it's as if all those rational thoughts lose their weight in the moment that lasts for hours or days. It's like a cartoonish anvil fell on my head and my heart and where there should be stars and x's in my eyes, there's a gray matte film. There's nothing until there's pain. I won't go into that; I understand the double-edged sword of self-harm even less.
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Anxiety is even more fickle. I loved the Yellowcard concert. I accepted the fact that there were a thousand people pressing on me, that there were voices blasting out of speakers and screaming into my ears and filling up my body. It scary, but so much fun to nearly be swept up into the mosh pits and death circles and to lose hold of my friends, looks of manic terror mixed with ultimate excitement on all of our faces. That was enjoyable.
But going to party with people I know and love dearly automatically puts me on edge. When the noise level raises to a dull roar of good times and happy faces, I go bonkers. It's like the speakers were now in my ears and the mere vibrations are felt in every cell of my body. It hurts me physically to see everyone having fun on a normal night of their lives, and it hurts me emotionally to be talked to, to have to answer a question when I'm busy trying not to scream and run into the dark fields that seem to surround everyone's houses and taunt me with their silence. Then again, it hurts so much worse to be passed by. I understand that people don't understand me. I know they've tried. I know they want me to come and have fun. But it's no fun to party with a freak. At least I get that.
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This really isn't to make anyone feel bad. This isn't about guilting y'all into bombarding me with inquiries of my health and safety; that would actually kill me, I can't handle the thought of attracting such negative attention. But when I finally caught up on everyone's blogs this afternoon, I came across one that filled me with such sadness. The last time I talked to this person, everything was fine: they were excited, they were caring, they were beautiful as always. And yet, they shared nothing of this frustration they wrote about so eloquently. I don't need to know everyone's life story. I think I'm busy, and I know y'all are ten times busier than I. But I want to know something. I care about y'all so much. Y'all are one of the biggest reasons why I try so hard not to give up, but I feel like y'all don't want anything to do with me. I promise, it's okay if that's the truth. People change, times change, our life changes every single day. But if that's not the truth, let me know. Say hi, tell me you're angry or sad or super duper happy. I'm not a good texter, but I love to talk on the phone, even just for five minutes. Let me know that you're okay so that I can be okay.
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There's so much more to my pain, my diagnosis, my life, whatever this is. But none of it really matters. This is the part where I get really angry and mask all the sentiment I tried to write down up above. I just need a friend. I'm trying not to blame or judge anyone because it's not anyone's fault. If it is, it's my fault for being a little prick. But again, trying not to get angry, trying not to hate or hurt or bury myself alive. The struggle is real. Every second is up for grabs.
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Doctrine and Covenants 121:9
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