Let’s begin by saying that I am pretty sure I am coming off my manic train straight into Depressionville. I felt the signs; anxiety, nervousness, anger, restlessness. confusion. This may be a bit down, but what to you expect from a blog about bipolar disorder?
I know I have talked about the feelings of being alone, but I keep coming back to it in my mind. I battle with the need for others and the need to not be a burden. It’s not fair of me to ask for help, even though it might be the only thing that keeps me alive. If I was gone, at least I would no longer be a burden. Well, except for the cost of setting my body on fire and doing something with the ashes. Even in death I don’t want to be a bother. I want to be cremated simply because I don’t want to take up a bunch of space in a cemetery, and to make sure I don’t come back as a zombie.
I know I am a bad person, its simple fact. I have no right to ask anything of anyone, especially now, in the situation I’m in. I’ve mentioned that I am voluntarily unemployed, that I want to give something I want to do a try. I actually started a company. (How manic was I THAT week?) The problem is, I can’t do it alone. I need help. I need support. I don’t have it.
Sure, lots of people say they are there for me, friends and family, but they really aren’t. Even my wife, I feel, just lets me get these wild ideas simply because she knows I will let those dreams slip away, like always. What she may not realize is that I dream so big that I can’t hang on to them myself, I need help. It’s like trying to hold down a blimp by myself, can’t be done. My family, what little of it I interact with, seems to say I simple use my illness as an excuse to be lazy. I don’t want to be lazy, I’m not looking for reasons to be lazy, I’m looking for reasons to be productive.
“Then get a job, any job that pays is better than nothing.” I made a promise to my self a year ago that I would not take a job unless its something I really want to do. I’m tired of just working a job to get by. “Everyone has to do it.” No, they don’t. There is always another option, they just don’t want to think about it. What happens when it becomes too expensive to live? Stop living. simple as that. If my wife knew that as soon as I feel I am too much of a burden for her, I will end my life, well, I’m not sure what would happen. Best not to tell her then, just in case.
I’m going to (already do) sound like a broken record (remember those?), but without the supportive push from those around me, the permission to do what I want to do, the people to share my dreams with, then I will never accomplish anything. I need people, but I can’t ask them to help. How do I tell my wife that if I have to sit on the couch while she watches a movie one more time I am going to break the TV? I almost knocked over our DVD rack out of frustration today. It’s a six-foot shelf with about 300 movies in it. It would have been a mess.
I contemplated tossing out the game systems, well, selling them. I think about turning off the internet to save money (they would kill me). At times I want to get rid of everything in our house because it’s so cluttered, but mostly because I want to punish myself. I’ve never been much for cutting, mainly because I wouldn’t stop till I bled out, but I want to hurt myself, take away everything I enjoy because I am not worth being happy. Throw all my books away, the games, the internet, my computers, my tools, everything. Maybe if we sell it all I can afford to stay alive another month. Maybe not.
If I’m not willing (or able) to do what I know I need or want to do, then I don’t deserve to waste any more oxygen. Get off your lazy ass and work on your game! I’m trying, but no one cares. Did their support wane because my drive did, or did my drive wane because their support did? If tomorrow isn’t a better day, I may just call it quits. Quit trying to be happy, it’s a long-lost dream. Work a crap job, fall into your coma/routine, and just let time slip by until my willpower is gone and I pass away while my wife sleeps.
It has helped to know that I am not alone in these feelings. I’ve seen lots of other blogs from people going through the same thoughts and feelings I am, and they do help me get through the day. Most of the time though, I feel alone in my illness and alone in my life. I’m not close to my family, though I wish I was. I don’t have many friends left. Even my immediate family has drifted away. My daughter, by growing up, and my wife by, well, I’m not sure really, I just know she has. Or maybe its me drifting way, I don’t know anymore.
All I know is that feeling alone in the world is one of the worst feelings, especially when you’re depressed anyway.