I just don't even know what I'm doing with my life.
I decided to stop taking my dumbass antidepressant medication, because there's only so many times I can swallow my pride, and that's a reservoir that's pretty dried up.
I walked over to the YMCA, and just stood outside for a minute looking at it, before again making the mile trek back to my car from where I parked. I'm not sure if I want to join or not, the proposition seems scary, there's no place in the outside world that seems like it even wants me around. I don't even know if it would be a good idea, there's just so much in my head that can go wrong, just so terribly wrong.
And then I'll have to try to explain to my therapist, but from our last few sessions I get the distinct feeling he just doesn't give a shit anymore. Just from our lest meeting, the drive home had left me weakened and sickened. I just don't know what to do now.
Hey it's my post, what are you doing here.
In all seriousness, I find drinking tons of alcohol helps. It passes the time quickly so you don't have to live through it.
Erm, in this situation if you're going to drink alcohol (certainly not arguing against that as a solution!) you should do it in a public area such as a bar/pub/party rather than at home by yourself. The former is a healthy experience that is actually likely to help with your problems, the latter is... generally a pretty bad idea.
There is not a single thing about alcohol that has ever led me to believe that it's at all a positive thing. It's always been to me the beginning of this lifelong downward spiral into the increasingly fat sacks of ignorant shit that people just BECOME as they get older, relishing the release from life rather than life itself.
And the very concept of it scares the everliving shit outta me, I've gone out of my way to be a teetotaler just because I mentally associate drinking with this utterly violent, out of control nature and culture that just seeks to get this cheap thrill and shit on itself afterward. My whole adolescent childhood was just me watching my Mom get shitfaced and beat the shit out of fucking whoever was nearby, her boyfriend, family, me, it didn't fucking matter, it was like the story of asking the scorpion why it stings you, because that's just it's nature.
And the idea of this kinda thing that just dissolves your judgment temporarily, that scares me so badly. What if I followed your advice and went out drinking, and I found out I liked drinking, but I ALSO found out that I'm a violent and angry drunk just like my Mother? That, more than anything else, MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE, would be the most legitimate reason for me to go out, buy some kind of weapon, and fucking kill myself, just to kill that seed of evil before it ever has the opportunity to germinate.
When I ask myself every day what I have to live for, just the possibility of accidentally adding a reason to end it all scares me to death. Fuck, man, it's terrifying.