It’s like my life is falling apart even though everything is pretty much okay irl. I’m just really depressed.
A few years ago I had the chance to adopt a child at the place I was doing volunteer work. I loved that child, but I didn’t have a job nor a partner, so I gave up on the idea. Years later and I’m still haunted by it. I’m always thinking about that baby, and I always catch myself feeling guilty and sad over it. I always think it’s like I abandoned that child, but I know it’s not true because I was still a child myself too. Still am to an extent. I know I’m overdramatic, but I know I won’t ever forgive myself for that.
I’m not taking medicine anymore, I dropped my antidepressants a couple months ago, and to be completely honest, I don’t want to take them anymore. I really wish I’d have the balls to kill myself, but I don’t wanna go through the consequences of a failed attempt anymore. I’ve done that way too many times. I wish someone would show up at my door today and drag me outside and take me anywhere so I could forget about why my life is so absolutely meaningless. But no one will. And realistically speaking, maybe I’d say no if anyone did.
I know I probably sound like an extremely negative person, but I always try to be positive with others, and even myself, when I’m not in this awful state of mind. It’s a mental and emotional war where the logical part of my brain and my deepest, craziest feelings don’t give each other a break. I’m in my mid 20’s with the chances of getting a possibly nice career ahead of me; I have a diploma, I have a job that doesn’t pay me much, but is what I love doing. Still, here I am, feeling hopeless. I guess I don’t have the things I truly need to be happy, but I don’t even know what those things may be. I think that, in the end, I don’t have anything.
I’m publishing this because talking about my feelings was the original purpose of my blog anyway. As time passed, I started adding lots of stuff. It’s my journal, so why not? I’m also publishing this because I don’t want to talk to anyone I know IRL, or worry my handful of online friends anymore with my nonsense and whining, but not telling the world about the way I feel seems impossible. Yesterday I locked myself in my room and screamed at the top my lungs for no reason. I stopped because I didn’t want my neighbors to call the police. I think I just need to express myself, but how can I do that if by opening up, I worry and hurt others?
It’s like I’m just waiting for more years to pass, and hoping that a miracle will happen. When I was younger I thought I wouldn’t be here after turning 20, and here I am. So the idea of being here in my mid 20’s and beyond is really scary. And at the same time I feel like I’m guilty of feeling the way I do because I should appreciate life somehow. But I don’t.
I feel a lot of physical pain too, and according to two doctors, it’s all in my head. I’ve gone through a bunch of tests and CT scans, and I’m healthy according to them, but my pelvic area hurts so much. It’s just making things worse. Maybe it’s really just in my head, which means I’m just making my own situation worse — again, it’s just my brain fighting with itself over something I don’t understand.