This post’s title sounds like the name of an epic progressive metal song
*cues up some Dream Theater*
I’m sorry for not having posted any updates in a while. I could sit here and type up excuses, but the bottom line is that I’m just still sort of uncomfortable opening myself up to everyone. More accurately, I’m not comfortable sharing some things to a few specific people. It’s funny: I have no problem telling a perfect stranger all my darkest thoughts/memories, but I have a hard time with a select few people.
Back in October of 2018, something happened. I can’t explain exactly what happened, but I snapped. It had been a loooooooong time coming.
Timeline of relevant events in my personal history
- The first time I was ever beat up was in 4th grade by a girl in the same grade.
- Routinely verbally bullied by two classmates and physically bullied (not beat up, but pushed/shoved/bruised) by two other classmates starting in 6th grade.
- Mocked and bullied throughout high school by multiple people from multiple cliques.
- My father passed away suddenly in 1998.
- I lost the relationship with my sister sometime in the early 2000s. She’s still alive, but we simply cannot get along. It is a toxic situation that cannot be resolved, so I have chose to remove her from my life.
There are a few other things that happened to me that affected me greatly, but I am not in a place where I am comfortable with discussing them here. Maybe someday, maybe not.
So what happened?
Honestly? I don’t know.
I get home 2-3 hours before Nancy gets home, and over the last few months, I found myself just staring out one of our windows for 10-20 minutes. I never used to do this.
I was sad for literally no reason. I didn’t find joy in any of my hobbies. I stopped playing guitar/bass/drums. I stopped playing video games, both on my XBOne and Mac. I stopped woodworking.
I’ve always been an emotional person. My mom used to say I wore my heart on my sleeve. I can cry at the drop of a hat. It wasn’t until a few years ago that I learned the word “empathy”. I am empathetic to a fault.
But being empathetic didn’t explain why I would cry for no reason.
I was “tired” all the time. That’s what I’d tell Nancy when she would ask me what was wrong. We’ve been together long enough for her to know when I’m off. I would lie to her and to friends when I should have acknowledged that I was feeling bad.
I would get super pissed off at the slightest things. I would go from 0 to 10 on an anger scale in a matter of seconds, then about 10 minutes later, I was fine. It wasn’t normal at all. I would cuss, scream, slam things. I would do this at home and at work.
I didn’t like the person I’d become.
I actually hated that person, once I realized that he was a total and complete toxic pile of shit.
I used to sneer at suicide victims. I always thought that was the coward’s way out. I simply never understood how someone could be that selfish and weak.
Then I started suicidal ideation. I told myself “I’m being unfair to Nancy. I can’t change, and I’m an asshole, so if I removed myself from her life, she’d be better off.”
Looking back on all of this, I think that’s where I realized I needed help. I came to this blood chilling realization:
One can go from thinking about suicide to actually committing suicide in a fucking instant.
Nancy came home one day and I was sobbing in the corner of my kitchen, gasping for breath because I thought I was over. I honestly believed that I was doomed. There was no hope for me, and I no matter what I did, I didn’t deserve a second chance.
I still vividly remember the words I said to Nancy.
“I need help”
Just uttering those words helped. Just opening myself to my best friend and partner in all things helped.
Holy shit, dropping Facebook helped so much.
I’m not making a jab at anyone using FB. Nancy’s still on it, and shows me the important stuff, but I was investing way too much emotion into it.
I also contacted mental health professionals. I’m currently getting counseling from Jodie at Greater Baltimore Counseling Center. I’m also seeing Christy, a psychiatric nurse practitioner, also at GBCC, for medication management.
Between counseling and medication, I have turned my life around. Am I cured? Hell no. It is going to get worse before it gets better. I have demons to fight and defeat.
Having said that, I AM getting better. I learned that my cognitive behaviors needed a LOT of help. I was literally thinking badly.
Anywho, this has run on more than I thought it would, so I’ll sum it up with this:
It’s OK to not be OK, and we’re all fighting demons, so you are not alone.