Question:
It helps in the struggle. Don’t think I am not aware of the truth every single day. The truth is many things have happened, few of them nice. Life is difficult. I have suffered from lifelong depression, PTSD came along as an unwelcome companion a few years ago. Much effort is required to stay a few steps ahead of darkness and despair. Some days, despair catches up. Some days, the holes in my life are overwhelming. No family. No children. Limited functioning. Difficulty in maintaining RL relationships. Lack of formal education.
You must have an incredible ability to educate yourself, then, because you come across as a well-educated and intelligent person. A marriage stuck in an uncomfortable stalemate with an uncertain future, one I doubt I want to remain in for many reasons. (In case anyone wonders, Larry receives blind carbon copies of my posts, and he reads this NG. I say nothing here that I would not say to him IRL, he has every opportunity to respond as he chooses.) Where I live, it’s been difficult to make social connections. It’s always been a resort area, a place where people retire to pursue leisure or escape colder climates. The common attitude is "you’re living in Florida, you’re supposed to be having a good time!".
Yeah, if you’re over 65. Florida is the place my grandparents and many other elderly people went/go for the winter. People retire down there. I’ve heard that the average age in Tampa/St.Pete (where my grandparents went) is 61. I don’t know what part of Florida you live in, and I may be way off, but I don’t know what it must be like to be reasonably young and trying to live in a place that’s geared toward retirees. Every day when I wake up, I ask myself why I bother to survive.
I’ve been asking myself that a lot, too. The answers used to be worse, the responses more self-destructive. You may wonder why I seem angry and hostile. It’s all that keeps me going. If I don’t express it, it turns inward to deeper depression, and _it will kill me_. It almost did, many times. I refuse to believe the messages of my youth. Be Invisible. You Are Unimportant. You Are Worthless. Hurry Up and Kill Yourself (I was _repeatedly told this_ IRL). You Are A Freak of Nature (ditto).
The first three messages I’m familiar with, because I received them, too. I can’t imagine how anybody could be cruel enough to tell somebody to hurry up and kill herself, though. And the Freak of Nature line seems far-fetched, too. I don’t know why I refuse to give up. I live for the dubious joy of adolescent rebellion. I live to not be cruelly snuffed-out. I live to refuse being invisible. I can only obey my own agenda, no one else’s. I will accept my place on the fringes of society, but I will not be invisible and I will not die there. Plain and simple.
It’s safer to be invisible, because I’m not as open to risks. it’s great that you refuse to give up. Today I’m right on the line, damned close to giving it all up. — madrigal
Response:
I’m in St. Pete. It’s not a bad place overall. The winters are fabulous. I don’t mind the high proportion of seniors. Most are active, healthy, full of life… and honestly, more interesting than people closer to my age. Seems like most are in the midst of raising families, or in a state of perpetual adolescence. We’ve never "fit in" around here. But, then, we’ve never "fit in" anywhere.
That’s why I moved to the city. I never fit into suburbia. I tried for years and years to become the person my mother wanted me to be – the stay-at-home mom – and it resulted in severe depression. I fit in a lot better in academia, where I’m working and kind of where I live, which is near a major university. Of course, in Greater Boston, almost everywhere is near some institution of higher learning. -but I don’t know what it must be like to be -reasonably young and trying to live in a place that’s geared toward -retirees. You should see these so-called "retirees". Many of them are so active, they could run rings around me! I live next to a senior community. One of the guys has a Harley (he dosen’t keep it on the premises, against community rules, he rents garage space nearby). He’s seventysomething.
Wow. I’m impressed. Good for him. The folks who live directly across from us are moving here permanently this fall instead of being seasonal. They’re in their late sixties. They’re bringing their motorcycles and high-end computer with ‘em when they return. It’s not unusual to see some senior jogging down the street or chugging by on a bike. The _younger_ people seem to drive two blocks to the store for a 12-pack of beer instead of walking. Ah, I better stop here.
I believe it, though. "Our" generation was brought up to take the car everywhere. Not me, though; my mother made me walk all over the place. Now, I’m glad she did. -Every day when I wake up, I ask myself why I bother to survive. – -I’ve been asking myself that a lot, too. Gotta do it. We have a right to be here.
Some days that’s hard for me to believe. -It’s safer to be invisible, because I’m not as open to risks. it’s -great that you refuse to give up. Today I’m right on the line, damned -close to giving it all up. Hold on. Somehow, we’ll make it.
I hope so. You keep holding on, too. — madrigal
Response:
Chimera: Same here! You are not alone. I suppose we all have a life outside of this NG. What brings us together on this NG is the Quality of our lives (or lack thereof) while suffering something as unnerving, bewildering, and often overwhelming as Clinical Depression-and finding a real means of voicing our concerns, our stories, even our cries for help when things get really and brutally out of hand-as they did over the weekend for Adri and for the others over the space of this Usenet Group. I am so relieved and glad you share what you share with us. We are all of God’s Children. We all have as much right to live and live well as the rest of them. I won’t roll over and die for no one except for when my number comes to enter the Pearly Gates and meet St. Peter there at the Front Desk.I will not let my Late, Great Dad’s work on me be done in vain. He single-handedly Saved me from my most traumatic hours. He beat off and killed a rabid German Shepherd that nearly mauled me to death when I was 2 1/2 years old. He caught red-handed, beat up and apprehended the 19 year-old man that raped me when I was 14. And He Broke into my room in 1980 when I was about to literally Electroshock myself because of my wonderful Schoolmates harassing me and tormenting me about being the Teacher’s Pet of sorts and about me being Gay or Bisexual at the time.I just couldn’t take it anymore.He tried his very best to make me strong and be a real man. He tried to teach me how to fight. And for the most part, he did a really fine job of it. He wasn’t just My Dad. He was my very best Friend and Hero. And the best friend you would ever want and need.And I will always Love him for it for all of Eternity. And like the one that saved Adri, My Dad’s name was Ted, too. Chimera, we all love you on this NG. Keep Posting! No matter how silly what you do you may seem silly to you. It could have been one of us to take our own lives and be just that despondent to do it. At least we know you are alive and basically well. As always, The Door to my Inbox is Always Open for you and everyone else at God’s Love Delivered, Mick Lechner Natalie Merchant, 10,000 Maniacs (from the CD, "Blind Man’s Zoo")
– Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – I post to ASD a lot. I jump up and down, swear at times, come up with pointed words. I tell you folks silly, minor things like what I did during the day, what movie I watched, babble about singing songs no one ever hears, tell you many miles I rode or irrelevant stuff about cars. There is a reason. Posting here, even when it’s outrageous, is one of the resources I use to stay in touch with life, other people. Believe it or not, I do other things based on a life away from the computer. <you actually have a life away from the computer? <not much of one, but I try. It helps in the struggle. Don’t think I am not aware of the truth every single day. The truth is many things have happened, few of them nice. Life is difficult. I have suffered from lifelong depression, PTSD came along as an unwelcome companion a few years ago. Much effort is required to stay a few steps ahead of darkness and despair. Some days, despair catches up. Some days, the holes in my life are overwhelming. No family. No children. Limited functioning. Difficulty in maintaining RL relationships. Lack of formal education. A marriage stuck in an uncomfortable stalemate with an uncertain future, one I doubt I want to remain in for many reasons. (In case anyone wonders, Larry receives blind carbon copies of my posts, and he reads this NG. I say nothing here that I would not say to him IRL, he has every opportunity to respond as he chooses.) Where I live, it’s been difficult to make social connections. It’s always been a resort area, a place where people retire to pursue leisure or escape colder climates. The common attitude is "you’re living in Florida, you’re supposed to be having a good time!". People come here to _leave problems behind_. Of course there’s human struggle like anywhere else, it’s overshadowed by an idea of a constant pursuit of fun. And sadly, rampant drug abuse, alcoholism, dysfunctional families galore and hedonistic tendencies. It’s alienating if you’re not bright and happy (and drunk!) all the time. Intelligence, ambition, lack of conformity are frowned upon. People want the postcard image. If you behave otherwise, you’re ruining the party. It’s going to be a _long while_ before we can leave. Looks like late next year now. <sigh Every day when I wake up, I ask myself why I bother to survive. The answers used to be worse, the responses more self-destructive. You may wonder why I seem angry and hostile. It’s all that keeps me going. If I don’t express it, it turns inward to deeper depression, and _it will kill me_. It almost did, many times. I refuse to believe the messages of my youth. Be Invisible. You Are Unimportant. You Are Worthless. Hurry Up and Kill Yourself (I was _repeatedly told this_ IRL). You Are A Freak of Nature (ditto). I don’t know why I refuse to give up. I live for the dubious joy of adolescent rebellion. I live to not be cruelly snuffed-out. I live to refuse being invisible. I can only obey my own agenda, no one else’s. I will accept my place on the fringes of society, but I will not be invisible and I will not die there. Plain and simple. I’ll keep posting here and doing what I do. I am certainly not trying to fool anyone. — chimera: learned a lot, a lot to learn it’s not going to stop ’till you wise up.
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