05 April 2013

Doctor's Orders: I'm a Failure

I don't even want to write this blog post, frankly, but I'm under doctor's orders to do it. I've been unsuccessful in finding a therapist who will actually see me ever since I was discharged from Our Lady of Peace on 10 October 2011. I've relied on my informal online support group, the catharsis of this blog and semi-regular counseling sessions with my doctor. She's not trained in psychiatry, of course, but she knows how to listen and how to reach me. She's been invaluable to me.

Two weeks ago, I received some distressing news. I had an anxiety attack, and then another. I've nearly puked my guts up numerous times. At the end of last week, I had my first suicidal thoughts - not urges, just thoughts - in nearly a year and a half. I returned to see my doctor Wednesday. After brief discussion, she quickly decided that I'm past anxious and into a full blown depressive episode again. The suicidal thoughts have been stronger and more frequent. Again, they have not been urges so we're not at red alert right now. Just a very strong yellow (is there such a thing as a strong yellow?).

She instructed me in the interim to watch movies, because I enjoy them, and to blog, because that's been therapeutic for me. So here goes.

I feel overwhelmed, alone and helpless - just as I did throughout my Year of Hell. I'm scared. I'm resentful. I'm angry. I'm despondent. I just want to know where I can go and fall on my knees and shout, "ALRIGHT, I AM A FAILURE! I ADMIT IT!" so that the world will be contented enough to quit haranguing me about my being a failure. I know now that I will not enjoy the kind of happy, healthy, prosperous life that most do. I can sometimes distract myself enough about that that it doesn't overwhelm me and I can "live in the now" enough to not concern myself with such matters. But right now it seems that I'm besieged on all fronts with no way out. I can't even surrender and let that be that.

There seems to my logical mind only one true escape from it all, and that is death itself. That seems to be the only solution that will content the world; for me to no longer continue to be a burden on society held in daily contempt. It eats at me every day. I feel nearly hopeless; I'm clinging to one last shred of hope that may be extinguished by the end of next week. This is no way to live. I'm existing, having to defend myself even doing that to those who openly resent that fact.

I'm a failure. I admit it. I'm a burden, a leech and that's all I'll ever be. Isn't it enough for you that I admit these things, that I must live with that kind of shame and humiliation?

No one who is suicidal wants to be dead. They just don't want to continue living and they can't see any practical way of changing their lives. I'm there, again. Please, just let me surrender. Let me exist. I don't deserve it, I know, but I ask it all the same.


  1. Travis, I, for one, would be devastated if you were to leave us. You would break my heart. Call that blackmail if you will, but I am willing to do whatever it would take to save a friend. I am with your counselor- keep talking, keep doing the things you love to do. And then, talk some more. And think of your cats!
    I love you, and I am here. You know where I am ALL the time anyway. :)

  2. Thank you for the kind words, Shawnee. The battle at hand right now isn't within, but with external factors that I'm all but powerless to do anything about. They say you can't control life, only how you react to it. That's true, but sometimes life only leaves you with a few possible reactions and sometimes they all suck. Stronger people than me manage to react more healthily to worse problems than mine every day. I'm weak. I can admit that.

    As for the cats, they've very much been on my mind of late. I haven't figured out what to do about them just yet. Harriet could and would adapt to pretty much whatever; she's very low maintenance. The other three, however, need to be together and Josephine has severe separation anxiety issues away from me. That worries me.