This Song Has No Title

Where to start?  For months, I’ve wanted a forum to vent.  Somewhere where I might just put down in words all of the awful things in my brain hoping that someone, somewhere out there might understand.

I’ll start here: I go in cycles.  My brain will be pretty good for weeks, and I’ll lead a relatively normal life.  But then something will happen.  Just one thing.  Something I didn’t expect or didn’t want.  Then starts the anxiety.  Everything short circuits and I can’t function.  I hold up my obligations – I still go to work, but I’m nothing but a festering crucible of compounding terror on the inside.  It’s hard to focus.  I’m not interested in eating or bathing.  My only release is when I drink myself so stupid that my brain shuts off.

I’ve been doing that a lot lately.  It makes me not sleep so well, but at least for a while I can feel like everything’s okay.  I want the freedom of a clear mind, I just wish it didn’t come with the price of waking up at 3 AM in the Lovesac covered with the beer I had been drinking.

I’ve thought of suicide in the past few weeks more often than I have in the past.  I don’t want to kill myself, but I can’t keep going on like this.  

I came close once, when I was 19.  I actually loaded the gun and put it to my head.  I couldn’t do it, though.  I wanted to – I was so sad and angry and unhappy and nobody believed me.  They all thought I was just being dramatic.  I kinda wish I would have done it; maybe then they’d believe me.

I recognize that suicide is one of the most selfish things that one can do.  It is a completely self serving action.  But once you’ve reached that point, you don’t care.  You just want a means of relief.  I guess that’s why I’m writing here, I want a means of relief.  I hope, I PRAY, that there’s someone out there that will see this.  You don’t have to say anything, just read and listen.

I speak dramatically, but I’ve actually got it kind of good.  I’m getting married in two weeks.  She makes me happy.  I don’t work at a job that tries to kill me anymore.  That used to be a big problem.  My car (a huge source of stress) is OK.  It wasn’t always like this, though.  Actually, I rarely used to be anxious at all.  I had a very worry free childhood.  The real anxiety didn’t come until college, and that first panic attack was a real doozy.

I’m at my worst when she’s not here.  I really shouldn’t be left alone.  My demons come out to play and they feast upon my insecurities when I’m by myself.  When she leaves, she’s always gone for weeks, leaving me to wither and desiccate.

Enough background – Let’s talk about today.  I woke this morning to the sound of my alarm and immediately knew I needed more sleep.  After snoozing several times I forced myself out of bed.  I got dressed and went to work, where I was greeted by a mountain of pending work to do.  Don’t you love when other people make a ton of work for you?  Well, I’m struggling to keep my eyes open and my head up and it’s only 9:30.

If you’ve read this, thanks.  Don’t worry about me; I’ve made it this far, and, though I talk about suicide, I won’t do it.  Just thanks for listening.

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