It doesn’t matter how “good” things get… it’s still the same.
With everything coming up, me feeling passion and spark again, the darkness still pervades. I couldn’t get out of bed this morning. Couldn’t get out this afternoon. Overwhelming sadness and pain and sense of dread.
And now I’m behind in my work. And the stress and pressure I knew would follow are here. I don’t think I can actually do this job. This dream job that I’ve been waiting my whole life for. I’m no longer actually capable. And it’s not because I’m not smart enough. But that my brain only has a tiny capacity to be able to deal with, because it is burnt out from just existing at this point.
All day, all I’ve thought about is dying. How it would legitimately be the best option for me and everyone around me. I wish I wasn’t such a coward. Every day is hell. Every day is pure agony. I can’t take it anymore. My heart feels like it just might explode. My brain is the same. My body is physically exhausted. But I’m just supposed to live in pure agony every day for the rest of my goddamn life so other people aren’t a little fucking sad when they think about me? And they say suicide is selfish?
Fuck. I just can’t anymore. It’s just too fucking hard. I’m drowning, and there is no life preserver. There’s no lifeguard. No one is coming to rescue me, and my arms and legs no longer work.
My therapist, psychiatrist, and doctor all say they are running out of options for me. I’ve tried every therapy they’ve got. Nothing changes. I’ve tried every medication they’ve got. Nothing changes. I’m coping, but I’m barely hanging on here. They are now suggesting trying things I’ve already done again. Hoping the second time around will bring success. I know it won’t. My brain is forever damaged. Everything I try is just a band-aid on a mortal wound. It will soak up the blood, but ultimately, it’s not going to change the outcome.