This is a blog entry I recently wrote...
"What I wish to know, and to achieve in my life is so great a mystery to me that it leads me to believe I'm worthless and/or completely mundane. This belief, that my actions are not valued, my lifestyle not humble, and my very existence to some a burden or some kind of debilitation.
These are thoughts that are quite recurring. I find myself sometimes doing odd things, or doing activities normal people would do - completely different from them. While I may find the desired result for these everyday activities, it takes me much effort to achieve them. A push, a guided hand, a direct command about what path I should take, constant CONSTANT thinking and analyzing of my situation; these things plague my daily activities.
I cannot begin to fathom my reasoning. I have always thought, since I was young, that something about me was different from the rest of my peers. The earliest memory of these thoughts could be as far back as Junior High School. This difference, I always, always, perceived in a negative manner. Always I searched, for that finite answer to my problems, and as to why I was or why I thought the way I did.
I still cannot explain it. Each day is one filled with anxiousness, despair, and a kind of craziness. I obsess over my thoughts and obsess over the need of them, feeling them so critical to my life that if I were to ignore what meaning I felt they had over my being I would not be myself.
Yet still I feel them to be a burden. These thoughts that I seemingly cannot control invade my private, personal, emotional, physical, and mental well being. They are constantly conflicting my life, constantly forcing me to evaluate my options and wonder what the point is in even trying. I skip plans with people, often feeling afraid of what situations I may arrive with. If I'm ever bold enough to get past this anxiousness, a new one brews during the event that causes me once more to obsess over myself.
You would call me selfish.
You would call me a loner.
You would call me crazy.
But I do not know what it is that causes this to me. I feel normal, as if these are things everyone goes through from time to time, that people always think obsessively in this manner. However, I find time and again through my introspection that I come to a realization that perhaps, there is something wrong with me.
I can feel something building in me. Something not short of a crisis, a nervous breakdown, whatever you may call it. I have not cried since late 2007, not once that I can remember, and yet I feel as if I'm about to explode with a river. I have been said to have dysthymia, a persistent depressive disorder, but yet I feel that that is not the truth of my situation. I have tried several medications for that, and none worked.
I have my good days, this is true. However, more often than not I'm down in those depths of despair and disassociation, that feeling that you are disconnected from everything else, that you and only you can feel how you are. Constantly I'm trying to balance the ethical matters that occur in my life, never allowing myself to give into my inhibitions and take risks. You could say this account for my loneliness, rarely RARELY able to actually converse someone I find even slightly interesting.
I'm finding it harder and harder to stand myself. I realize writing this that no one wants someone who writes notes such as this... that everyone who reads this will ask me to get over myself or say that there is nothing wrong, will tell me to stop whining, any number of things.
Perhaps understanding is something I want more than anything... understanding from people that maybe something isn't right with me. Do you not find it strange that still continue writing these kinds of things year after year? I have wrote depressing notes or journal entries since I was 14 and first discovered that I could write my thoughts online. These entries become even more emboldened and detailed in my paper-bound journals. Is it hard to believe that maybe I am fucked up?
Of course no one wants to believe that... I suppose part of me does, so that I can find some reason for my pessimism. I can't blame someone for not wondering these things I wonder about me, after-all my life is not theirs and I should not be such a burden to them. I do not ask this of anyone, these are simply my thoughts, and I have written them down often for so many years, to ask me to stop is like asking me to stop thinking.
My thoughts plague my existence, and the fear of losing control is constantly building. One would say I need help, but how to go about getting help that would not misdiagnose me as has been done before is a question I wish I did not need to ask.
I'm losing my friends because of this...
I'm losing my family because of this...
I'm losing myself because of this...
I just do not know what to do. I'm looking for help for things I cannot even understand. How can I even begin to explain to another person what's wrong with me if I myself cannot understand what is wrong.
And now I retreat once more into that extroverted silence, that is my introverted noise."
I'm not sure if I even have a question that doesn't end up becoming tons of questions. I suppose I'm looking for any relevence to anything described above to some kind of psychological problem. Depression seems to be what most people say, but I have tried countless Anti-depressants all of which have failed outright.
I'm doubt anyone will read all of that anyway..
If, for the fun of it, you want to type me by reading this blog go for it.
And I'm sure this is in the wrong forum :| but I couldn't think of anywhere else to post...