How To Save A Life.

What a wonderful world indeed. Make wonder where exactly goes the line when life is not worth it anymore? I know many argue that no matter what the existing conditions are, just the fact that we are alive makes it worth it, but does it really?

So I just laugh.

Respect, uncle Einstein. I'm very much aware of the cliché here, but it sums up such a huge proportion of this world. It's a good reminder every now and then. 

At least I got a therapist out of this, and despite everything I did not want to kill myself, so. Progress?

I’ve also started running and exercising again. My general physique is absolutely shit not the best right now, so, eh, I’ve kind of like started building it up little by little. I can run two metres kilometres now, but I’m sure I can stumble out of this swamp and double the figures if I can just keep myself motivated. So far I can say that it really helps and that I’d definitely recommend regular physical efforts to anyone in the same situation. When I hit the road, albeit red-faced, struggling and looking like a hobo, it’s often the only time of the day I actually feel a little better, almost good. So yeah.

Shopaholic or shopaholic? This can't be good?!?

Somewhere in between these messy days and badly slept nights I’ve taken a habit of trying to test out different things and theories, to see if they help. At this point I’m so low that I’m pretty much open for anything… desperate measures, anyone? So what a better way to start this bright and shiny new year than detoxing? As in, torture your body for three days by only drinking juices composed of all things considered ‘extremely healthy’ while watching the rest of your family happily munching on fajitas and ice cream. So far so good, berries be blessed, if clenching teeth and throwing murderous glances at anyone who dares to as much as mention food within five feet from counts as an accomplishment.  Well, at least it’s my final day and now I’m off to last delicious, detoxifying juice. (Do animals continue eating something because it’s ‘good for you’ even though your first reaction is the gagging reflex?) But hey who knows, maybe I wake up tomorrow miraculously cleansed, with the epiphany of life’s essence. Even Aerosmith believes in dreaming on, and that must count for something.

This week I’m writing on a bit more serious note. The last time I tried to perform suicide was in July. Obviously, I failed. I was filled with bitterness and black humour, just laughing that how can it even be possible that I failed at absolutely everything and then I even fail at finally trying to leave it all behind. Eventually I decided to give myself one more chance. So many people, doctors, psychologists, relatives, have said that I just have to give myself time. So now I’m giving myself that time. Or I’m running at borrowed time, as they say. But in order to make it, in order to be able push through all this shite, I need to turn everything around. If I keep going at this rate, I can just hang myself to the heater next to right at this very second. All the odds are against me. I was born with a shy and highly emotional temper, and my surroundings were unable to validate my emotions and give the support I required. Now this caused me to grow up having both borderline personality disorder and social phobia. I grew up depressed and hating myself. I was so disgusted by myself that I attempted my first suicide when I was 11. When other kids and teens were out there making friends, learning and experiencing, I spent my time behind four walls. I lost my childhood and I lost my adolescence. I’m not exactly smart. My bone structure is a bit funny and my social skills are completely non-existent. And I don’t have any special talents or tendencies. Nobody believes in me and I most definitely wasn’t born a star. I don’t have a good life expectancy. Right now the situation is even more shite, to the extent of being ridiculous. I lost my place in uni. I haven’t got a job or any money, and I’m homeless. So suck that, bitches. I guess the only thing that could make this even worse would a prison sentence (reckon they would have a vegetarian meal choice in there?) or not having any friends. So basically, to be able to continue my life I should defy biology and psychology and probably physics and gravity and law of nature as well.  Not the easiest one to pull, I’d suppose, but since this kinda is my fight for life, do I have a choice?

How very typical. I start a blog about depression and then I’m too bloody depressed to actually write it. I wish this was an exception, but I’m afraid the answer is NEWS! : It’s not. Dammit. This is a one way the smart and oh-I-think-I’m-so-sly depressed mind operates. Most of the time, and I mean like 85% of time it’s way too down to be interested in anything. Except maybe sleeping. And sometimes even sleeping is way too much asked. Let’s settle just for moping and lying in bed because that’s what it really is. And when it happens that the ball lightning strikes and we find that we actually want to do something productive (like brush our teeth for a change?), we are, surprise surprise, too depressed to do it. So we think that we wanna do it. We feel like we probably should do it (smelly and a been-dead-for-a-week rat in your mouth doesn’t taste like cotton candy). But do we do it? I don’t think so. And where does that take us? I’m sure you already know it: we end up being even more down. Absurd, much? But it does capture the very unfortunate essence. And it’s not an easy cycle to escape from.