Welcome to another episode of Wish I were Dead. Feeling extra sarcastic so bear with me. This is where the host normally invites the audience to come along on his blog or article, except there is no audience right now and frankly the things I have to say are far from entertaining. Today’s topic; “Why am I still here?” (Full disclosure, I am not actively suicidal at the time of writing this. I am safe from any harm)
Why am I still here?
This morning my first waking thought was Why am I here? and Wouldn’t I be better off dead. WTF man?! How the hell am I supposed to start my day like that? So I hit the snooze button for the third time and fall back asleep. Not because I’m sleepy but maybe upon waking again I’ll have a different mindset. Sort of a mental reboot where tech support suggests “Well did you try to restart it?” Fourth alarm goes off and now it’s just getting annoying that my thoughts can’t be elsewhere, so out of bed and off to the shower I go.
Some of this may be too descriptive but in this moment of writing I don’t feel like sugar coating the details. In the shower I wash every inch of my body to the point of starting to feel it’s excessive. After all, how fricken dirty could I possibly be after a nights sleep? Or maybe I’m just trying to wash off the stink of thinking I want to die. Momentarily I consider closing my eyes and rubbing one out as I let the hot water hit my face. Perhaps that would provide a brief release of tension? Nah. I pass on the idea of self pleasure. After all if standing under the shower for the past 20 minutes hasn’t altered my thoughts then more time spent here certainly isn’t going to change anything.
I’m so done with the shower and just want to finish getting ready and head off to work. I stare at the same few shirts hanging in the closet as if it were actually important what I wear today. I shouldn’t have to contemplate such a decision so long. Especially since there are only a dozen shirts hanging there and my rotation tends to only utilize half of them. Should I wear a black shirt today, or maybe one of these black shirts next to it? That question makes me laugh. Well duh, 10 of the 12 shirts there are black LOL. FYI I don’t own mostly black shirts because of some EMO obsession with dark doom and gloom, rather I just like black shirts and it further helps that the color black hides my dad bod belly. The rest of my morning routine is even more uneventful than this (if that’s even possible) so out the door I go with my industrial sized coffee mug.
On the way to work I take a mental note about something concerning the morning and my state of mind. Something very typical for me. I’m actually in a cheerful mood. The morning air has a nice crispness, the music on the radio is good enough for a couple of air guitar strums and drum solos on the steering wheel, and the drive just feels enjoyable. In fact if I were in the presence of anyone they would probably think I was a fucken delight to be around haha. Yet I can’t say “I want to be alive.” This is not out of the ordinary for me. That would probably come as a surprise to anyone reading the description above.
How is it possible to be in a good mood, acting like I’m this positive ray of sunshine, all while thinking deep inside that I would rather be dead? And there lies the drastic contrast within me. What a great day to be alive, wish I were dead is not exactly something anyone could wrap their head around. It doesn’t fit the typical diagnosis of depression or common descriptions of suicidal ideation, yet here I am. I keep using both of those phrases (depression and ideation) even if they still seem foreign to me. Depression is not sadness for me and almost nothing that I’ve read or studied describes this when it comes to depression. Yes at times I feel numb or disinterested and yes this condition sucks the living hell out of me, but rarely is sadness a part of these moments. It’s not what someone might consider a mood disorder. Rather all these mixed up things just coexists. It is the Good Bad and the Ugly of my life and all running concurrently. Maybe I’m getting off point of what I wanted to describe hear so I’ll revisit that later.
At this point while driving to work I think that maybe it would be helpful to write down some of this. Welp here I am typing out what seems fairly mediocre. Why can I write descriptively yet when I speak I am a mess fumbling for the words to say? Again that’s another subject for another day.
To recap: Woke up thinking about being dead, went through some average morning routines, drove to work, feel like I’m in a pleasant mood, write these notes about it, still want to die. Yup that pretty much covers it. Hmmm, doesn’t exactly make a lot of sense. And if none of this sounds like the stereotypical sad or hopeless mood disorder that is associated with depression, you’re right. It’s far fucken worse. It feels like I’m this walking contradiction. I can’t explain it to myself let alone anyone else which just feels frustrating and further encourages me to place it all back inside the drawer under the unmatched socks. My typical day consists of good moods, normal highs and lows. Passive thoughts of wanting to die just happen to occur simultaneously.
The above is what I would characterize as my almost daily normal, with a couple of days that I dig in so deeply to a task or project that I don’t stop to think about these things. Spread out more sporadically and far less often (thankfully) are those moments of crisis where suddenly the shit gets real for no apparent reason. Those times where I go from the described daily contradictory struggles of being me to where I am fighting to keep from spiraling out while simultaneously preventing anyone from seeing me in crash mode. Yeah those days feel like they steal years off my life… hmm maybe that’s the point?
The above seems like such a mix of crap. Sort of a casserole of thoughts and feelings. Probably worth mentioning, I hate casseroles.