Make. This. Stop.

2551216998_3704392857_b9:15am
Facing my depression is the hardest thing I have ever done. I didn’t reach this conclusion lightly. Coming out was biggest challenge I had ever faced. Not sure my conservative family and friends would abandon me, preparing myself for some ruined relationship, making sure I was emotionally distant enough to ensure the ending of familiar relationship would not be catastrophic.
I wake up every morning scared. To face the day, scared of the various and plentiful triggers that developed over the past few years. What if I get a difficult email? What if I have to engage in an awkward social interaction? What if I feel tired all day and slack off at work? What if…. I stay scared for the first three to four hours of everyday.
Once Nuvigil kicks in my mind calms. It stops feeling overwhelmed by the variety of challenges I might face that day. Instead I can focus on the now, I can take my day step by step. Nothing seems impossible when I can get my head out of the clouds and into the now.
Today I am worried. By this time I am usually no longer struggling with my fear and desires to die. I just took the second part of my Nuvigil dose, desperation. Make it stop. Nobody deserves this.
I wish I had the bottle, I’d take more. It is times like this I stop caring.

10:45am
It has largely faded. Why? I don’t know. Maybe that last fourth of Nuvigil kicked in. I can’t tell you how wonderful the relief is. It just disappears for a bit, life ceases to be overwhelming for a few hours a day.

11:13am
I’m doing better. I can be in the moment more. This is so hard. The part that scares me most is the hopelessness of it all. We have tried so many meds, and yet I have found only partial relief. I don’t imagine any darastic new improvements. It seems this is where I’ll be. Maybe I’ll get used to. Maybe I will stop having such relentless desires to die, maybe.
I deserve this. My anxiety was always an issue. Now it is worse. But it appears to be worse due to my years of abusing Adderall. That is what I get for trying to skip my depressive episodes using stimulants.
Guilty. Always guilty. God, and this is me doing good. Right now I am at the best I’ve felt all day. And this is it.
I need to plan something this evening, something to look forward to. But I doubt I will come up with anything. Maybe I will. But I won’t actually look forward to it. I am just passing time. I don’t give a fuck about anything – anything other than this. This I give a fuck about. Make. This. Stop.

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Make. This. Stop.

7 thoughts on “Make. This. Stop.

  1. I’ve been pretending that I’m doing better than I am for a long time now. I tell myself to “Act as if”. Act as if I have courage, confidence, and self respect. I pretend I’m fine. I color or take photos to occupy my mind. Lately this is working less and less. At night I binge watch TV and movies. Ink Master is what I’m watching now. I try to find a subject I’m interested in and research it to death. It does help. I have about 10 notebooks next to me where I keep information. It’s something to do. Some of it is Travel info in case I ever want to travel again. Some it is just a wish list. I don’t suppose your doctor would give you a fast acting antianxiety medication? If you’ve abused a medication they don’t like to. My doctor does because my addiction was to alcohol only and my anxiety was causing bleeding ulcers. Having your stomach feel like it’s on a constant roller coaster is something no one should have to suffer through no matter what. I seriously suggest the coloring. When I start I don’t even realize how much time has gone by. If you look at some past posts there are pics of some of them. They aren’t what you think. It’s hard. I know it is. My flight instinct is kicking in hard but I know I can’t. Plus my back is out and I could never carry my suitcase. lol Please don’t hesitate to give a shout if needed.

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  2. Trevor Benjamin says:

    I, too, deal with this same issue, but my mornings take me nearly 90-minutes to get out of bed because I have to negotiate the “Why” of it all…and then to not kill myself. You’ll be alright, it’s just a day at a time and strengthening your core-mind the best you can to fight the paranoia and major dips.

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  3. If you can keep blogging you can get through this. The feelings of wanting everything to stop can be so sweet, so tempting, don’t give in. By fighting back with your own mind and feelings you are being an example to us. You have a place with us. Stand strong (or sit if you need to). Someone suggested coloring. I do it sometimes too. It is a good distraction. I feel calmer while I’m doing it. So far I’ve only been able to sit still and do it for short periods of time at once. Still, any help is welcome. Take care of yourself. If you feel like you’re holding on for dear life… you are. Don’t let go.

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  4. I agree with Robin that the fact you are still blogging is a very good sign. I remember when I was in the psych ward and the psychiatrist asked if I cry for no reason. When I told him ‘yes,’ he said, “That’s the hopelessness you feel.” I was like, “No shit.” LOL Thankfully I made it then and through similar times.

    I can’t say I know exactly what you’re going through (we’re all different,) I can say that I understand. Hang on tight.

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  5. I’m so sorry you’re going through such a difficult time. Please know you are not alone. I wake each morning with Fear sitting on my chest. The minute my eyes open. My heart races (not in the good way). I feel sick, want to throw up. I don’t understand where this FEAR comes from. All I’ve done is wake up for godsake! And this is every.fucking.morning. I’ve tried to coach myself to accept that this is just my life, custom made, how its going to be. I have a brown paper bag on my bedside table that I gasp into upon waking. And for me, that’s just the way it is. This is a brutal disease and over and above our meds/therapy, we can only support each other and develop individual strategies to help us cope. I also agree with others, as long as you’re writing, you are never alone in your struggle. I know how being in a place bereft of hope feels like. You are not alone, sweet man, you are not alone ❤

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