J Left like two hours ago and we made something from scratch that I’m actually pretty happy with for once. And weirdly enough I can’t believe my first thought was not to talk about everything else. Today I had a therapy session where I almost couldn’t talk because I was crying, and I have never had a session like that in the eight years I’ve been in therapy. And maybe it’s just because of all of the feelings that have been built up and the wounds from childhood, but it was about birthday stuff. I ended up calling J after, because I wanted to both tell her, but also because I was told it would be a good idea by my therapist too individually tell my close friends how it would mean a lot to me for me to be celebrated this year for my birthday. J told me that her and N were already planning and talking about something for me. And it really makes me want to cry thinking about how something actually has changed. One of the things that really hurts. Is that feeling of putting in all of this effort year after year and feeling like there are some things that just will not change. But something is different now, even if I don’t get my hopes up about anything, the fact that I have friends that care enough to talk about it without me having to ask. It’s enough to make me cry.
Today I met someone from Hinge that wanted to be hiking friends, and so we both went on a pretty long hike together and then afterwards played some games. We talked about a lot of different things and it really did feel like someone trying to be a fully platonic friend which is completely fair and I am not against at all with this person. One of the things we talked about was journaling and she asked me how do you always have something to write about and I said that I don’t. I think it’s kind of ironic that this is what I’m writing about and I almost think it’s funnier if I leave it there.
today at the gym, I was doing my deadlifts for first week, and it was programed as an RP five triple. There was a guy next to me that was pretty built, and like the kind of guy that would honestly intimidate me or scare me because I would feel like they would dislike me for being kind of feminine. Like a frat guy almost, but he asked me if I was going for a PR when I loaded up the weight, and I was honestly taking it back because this was an RPE five triple, and it was like 350 pounds. I have become very desensitized to incredibly strong people whether it’s through my Instagram where I get a lot of powerlifting content, or the incredibly strong people that frequent the gym. I forget that if you compare me to an average gym goer or a non-power lifter, I will likely be stronger. Part of me is honestly so surprised that he asked if I was going for a PR, that it feels like it might even be an insult. But he was lifting a little bit under that weight, and he asked me if I competed in any bodybuilding shows when we were talking a little bit. I choose to take this as a compliment.
So I Have my bupropion that I was now prescribed, but I haven’t taken it yet. Part of me hopes that I can wait until I try mushrooms again, and if that is enough, then I do not need to start medication for my depression. But also things have just gotten way worse. This week has been a pretty consistent struggle with suicidal thoughts and it’s something that I’ve had the privilege of not being used to for a while. And honestly, I kind of just want some kind of hope that this will change and I wish I knew what caused this rather than just assuming it was because of all of the birthday stuff, because that feels excessive.
Short post, I think it’s funny how when I am struggling the most, I still don’t slow down at all with making jokes or lighthearted things. Yesterday I took some time before I went to see friends because I was struggling a lot with intrusive thoughts about suicide, yet I was still making jokes unprompted in our group chat. Today I was posting jokes on my story that got a lot of likes and comments, and I am still struggling. It’s just a weird thing that they are so independent of each other.
Today was honestly a really dark day. I struggled a lot with intrusive thoughts about suicide and several other really morbid things. I honestly kind of just stood here for a pretty solid amount of time. Debating if I should write down an example of one of the thoughts, but I think it’s too morbid and so I will refrain. I am honestly pretty scared however. I haven’t had ideation like this in a long time. There were some lines in the song, beach life and death that resonated a lot however and so I guess I’m going to talk about that.
It should be called anti-depression
As a friend of mine suggested
Because it's not the sadness that hurts you
It's the brain's reaction against it
I don’t think this is necessarily groundbreaking in an obvious sense, but I feel like it did capture something that is kind of hard to explain. Depression for me a lot of the times isn’t necessarily the sadness. I think that is something that everyone understands and goes through to some extent, but rather it is the persistent lack of joy. Anything good goes so incredibly quickly from my brain, and the bad is just a persistent drum beat. The second everything goes away I start to hear it again. But it’s not even the sadness, it’s the fear of depression itself. Me feeling sad doesn’t make me want to kill myself, I want to kill myself to get away from the sadness. It’s this terrifying thought of things never getting better, and I know I’m depressed right now because I can’t even fucking fathom what it’s like to not be in this pit. It has been like this for days, and I cannot remember a life before it and I cannot picture a life after this. Even though I know that both of those things are false. I just don’t want to exist and I want to get away from all of it and I want to stop and my life is so incredibly good in so many different ways, and I think those are parts of the reasons why I am not actively suicidal. But even in absence of any meaningful problem, I am so incredibly miserable, and I want to die.
I’m going on a walk at work to my crying spot again. This week has been back to back to back friend birthdays. I just had a birthday lunch with G, and at one point she started asking everyone what their favorite present they’ve received was. It was already hard enough watching everyone talk about different stuff before this but this felt like an execution. I kept thinking and the only two things that came to my mind were the league of legends gift cards I got when I had my first birthday party around 16, and then the cake my exes family made for me on thanksgiving for my birthday. Both of my friends got cakes at work, and I remember I got nothing. I don’t even remember if I got happy birthday texts. M talked about how for she didn’t like her birthday and she tries to disappear for it. I related. And then she said it was because of all the attention and celebrations felt like too much. She talked about how her parents remind her when her bday is coming up because she forgot, and I had to keep looking away to try to avoid crying. All I could think about was how there were years where I’d have to remind my parents about my birthday. All I’d ask for was to go to a bakery and get a single slice of cake. I didn’t get any presents or celebrations or shit like that. And it’s not that I wanted stuff, I just want to have some space in the world, to feel like I’m someone who’s wanted rather than hiding and trying to just keep my home as peaceful as possible. The year before college I asked my dad if I could just sit in the car for an hour so I could listen to music out loud for once. What a pathetic thing to say when I’m bombarded by friends talking about their birthday weeks, or the sweet kind things they get from friends. God I would cry so fucking much and cherish just a fraction of that. I want someone to think of me and let me know that. I can’t help but have this feeling that the world would go on so easily without me. I’ve taken up so little space in others I can’t think of any grief I would incur. I know people would be sad if I killed myself, but there’s a difference between sadness and grief. Outside of the normal loss that comes from someone’s suicide I’m not sure what people would miss. Me initiating things? The social spaces I set up through effort? Making people laugh? The only things I can think of are the things I provide, and so I feel as once those niches are replaced I fade.
I wish I knew how to take up space in this world. I want to be something to others, where I could exist when I’m asking rather than providing. I have spent so much of my life telling myself to info will get better, and a lot of things have. But I don’t have any guarantees and so I wait. I wish other people knew how desperately I want presents. I would love to be celebrated. I want something I can hold and look at and use to remind myself that things are different. Things as a proof for the argument that I am loved and I exist to the world and I would be missed. And I know it’s dangerous to equate these things because I cannot expect any gifts.
It’s Such a weird thing to have both things exist at the same time. I feel like I am both incredibly weak, and also incredibly small small when I go to my gym gym, and I’m fine with that, mostly because I understand that it is not Necessarily true, but rather just me, mainly noticing the people that are exceptional, whether they are on steroids or whatever else. But that’s also something where I feel like I don’t have an ego about, I recognize there’s always a bigger fish in the pond, and my value does not come from that sense of competition. But at the same time when I’m at home and I am getting ready for bed or something like that and I see myself in the mirror, I am incredibly proud of the physique I have and I think it is incredible, and I wouldn’t believe it if it wasn’t for me progressively seeing this month after month year after year. And I’m very proud of the person I am. I think the really nice part is that my sense of self does not rely on competition in the sentence, but at the same time part of me feels like a lot of dating optimizes for the wrong metrics, and I don’t think it’s accurate towards a happy relationship or anything like that, but it is a relatively well established game that I am not optimizing for, and as a result, I am not winning. And it’s just a weird thing to also exist in that rapper while still having confidence that I am doing the right thing.
L Let me borrow her sewing machine today, and so I was working on a Car Seat Headrest plushy while she was working on her Chan mail. Going from hand sewing a plushy to a sewing machine is a fucking beautiful difference. And I think just talking with someone and working on something like that and having something to show for it that I’m honestly kind of proud of even though it’s not even done is meaningful in its own way.
I again stayed up really late today playing sober to death. I started recording some videos, and when I watched them back to listen to my voice to see if I was ashamed, I felt like I looked really good and muscular. And because of that I put on a shirt. I wanted to post a video of me with a good take on my close friends story, and I didn’t want it to be a thirst trap. What a weird thing that I am now conscious of. I used to feel uncomfortable with my shirt off because it just felt like inappropriate, but now I am worried about people admiring my body. And I worry about being attractive towards people that I am not trying to attract like friends. And it’s such a weird thing because it ends up looking the same way, I tried to hide my body and I am on edge looking around to make sure no one notices.
I wish I could sing in a way where I wasn’t ashamed of it. I can’t get out of my head the thought of a friend seeing it and thinking it’s cringe or bad. And it sucks because I found playing and singing or sad songs are a great way for me to express feelings, which is something I’ve always struggled with. And now there’s that same shame tied to it. And I think it’s because when I sing these songs and someone criticizes it or points out anything, it feels like they are giving me feedback to not share my feelings. But in reality, I know they’re just talking about the delivery. And the medium, I guess. But it feels like such a gut punch otherwise.