Losing it…

On the cusp of a mental breakdown, I turn to blogging.  After all, it is why I created this space in the first place.

So, where to start.  That’s hard.  To organize all the things that torment me.  It’s been a long time coming.  I could feel it’s grasp around my throat no matter how long and how hard I ran from the invisible hands that are responsible.

I guess, I’ll start with the straw that broke the camels back, what piled on top of that, and then work backwards.

This morning, while trying to point out to a friend that the world is an evil place, and many people believe and live by the saying ‘All is fair in love and war’, I was misunderstood.  And my friend returned with “Please Donny. U have no kids”.  As a lot of people know, or have seen through the cracks, my “Ok without a family or children” attitude that I’ve adopted is just an artificial shell I wear to try to hide the pain inside.  The pain caused by knowing that I have no kids, and if the history of my life has taught me anything, it’s that I probably won’t be afforded the opportunity to have them either.  Not in the way I want, and they deserve.  So, that broke my back,  and the flood of depression I had dammed off came bursting through with a violent wave.  I tried to move on with my day, to ignore it, but thing after thing just continued to go wrong.  Then, when I thought the day was over and nothing else could possibly make things worst, my brother announces that he’s going to get a few tattoos in a couple of weeks.  I know this statement in itself is perplexing, as to why it would upset me, but we had a pact.  A couple of years ago, we both got tattoos for his son.  Since then, we have gotten 3 more done together.  A pact to wait until we were both in the same location at the same time, to get tattooed together.  Now, I made an exception when his daughter was born, because I didn’t think it was fair to make him wait nearly a year, but apparently he took that as a voiding of our deal.  The worst part is that he’s been joking around about it like it’s no big deal and like it’s my fault I won’t be there when he gets his next in a couple of weeks.  Which, I’ll get to why that’s impossible soon.

Maybe no big deal to most, but it is a big deal to me.

The diabetes makes sure that I can’t turn to a bottle, to dull the depression.  This in itself makes me sick.  I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that I want to turn to the bottle, or the fact that I ever let that become an option to begin with.  Either way, it is no longer an option with my health.  On top of that, I haven’t been to the gym in 11 days, I don’t even know how that much time flew by already.

Underneath all of this, are other issues.  Like, I’m failing my math class.  Which means, if I do fail, that I cannot get my degree.  You are only allowed this class twice, and this is my 2nd try.  This means, with my pending move to Milwaukee in August, that I’ll be returning WITHOUT my degree, which means, basically, I’m fucked.  I don’t know one single person surviving on their own without some sort of assistance, whether it be a roommate, their parents, child support or some other government program I’m not eligible for.  I’m sure they exist, but no one I personally know is doing it.  Not with a H.S. degree only.  Especially since I will already be traveling there with hefty debt.  I’ve been stuck in Virginia because of the debt.  Despite my brother’s wild ideas, I cannot see it fathomable to live a non-stressed out life for anything below $13/hr @ 40 hours a week.  And those jobs are few and far between there.

I guess, it all comes down to being my own fault.  For ever thinking life could be enjoyed.  I should have accepted defeat 5 years ago and just stayed in Milwaukee.  Living a shitty existence at a shitty job.  I’d probably have 6 years in there by now.  And I would have never known a better life could exist.  “Think positive” a friend told me.  But, I can’t.  Thinking positive is what got me to where I am.  I survived a hard, shitty, fucked up life until I moved here by being realistic, and maybe a little pessimistic at times.  But I wasn’t down on life, because I just thought that’s how life went.   Moving here, my uncle showed me what was on the other side of the fence.  The place that I was never allowed to play.  And because he showed it to me, and let me live that life, I’ve gotten soft and I can no longer accept the reality of the sins of the father that I have to pay.

Which brings my next stress.  My parents.  Well, my mother.  My father, I owe nothing to in my opinion, besides my voice.  I’ll talk, I’ll be his friend, but financially, he’s a huge part of the reason I live the life I do.  But my mother.  She went above and beyond everyone’s expectations when both my father, and the father of my two younger sisters bailed.  She stepped up and filled a roll she never wanted to.  She became the mom and dad.  She both worked full-time, and made sure there was a warm, home cooked meal on our dinner table every night.  And never did she complain to us as kids.  It wasn’t until I was nearly an adult that I realized the toll it had taken.  The sacrifices she made for us.  But her earlier life with my father, and my sisters father, coupled with the bottle she turned to when life became too much for her, has taken a horrible toll on her body.  At 45 years old, she can barely walk because of degenerative hip and leg problems, her blood pressure is through the roof, and I suspect she’s hiding a couple more ailments from me.  She’s got a foot in the grave and not a dime in savings.  If she doesn’t find some way of fixing her health now, I’ll be taking care of her within the next few years, if even.  It’s getting so hard for her to work as it is.  She won’t be able to stay at the grocery store forever.  And my sister has been supported by her for years, along with my two nieces.  Which means, if my mom fails to be able to help them, as the eldest child, and brother and uncle, that too is on me.

And I haven’t even gotten to what may be the worst stresser of them all.  Finding a job in that barred wasteland.  I, am not a desirable employee.  I mean, ask any of my former managers, and they’d likely tell you, with the exception of Robert, that you’d be lucky to have me working for you.  I work as hard as I can at whatever the task is.  I grew up with the old school thought that your name means everything, and so I want my work to reflect well upon my name.  But, things like pre-screening questionnaires hurt me.  My last job, in Wisconsin, was at Blockbuster.  A job my brother, who worked there, got me.  Well, he got me the interview.  After I was hired, I found out that I was in 2! piles of rejected applicants who failed that thing.  Which would explain the year I spent looking for a job before that, and the 18 months I’ve spent looking for a job now.  I suspect my unwavering honesty actually hurts me on those things.  But, I don’t know the specifics as to why I failed.  So, I’m faced with moving back, with no money, no job and the unlikelihood of finding a job in a timely manner.  Oh.  And I forgot.  I suffer from Paruresis. This cost me a $20/hr job at a machine shop when I was 19.  That, would have changed my life.  But it didn’t.  And it showed me that I would never be able to get a job that required a urine test.  I begged and pleaded for them to let me pay for a blood test, to replace it, but they wouldn’t.  Sears did the same thing to me a short time later.  So, with all of these restrictions and everything stacked against me, my blood has been boiling.  I feel like I’m getting new grey hair each day.

I just don’t know what to do anymore…

Difficult…

It’s been nearly 2 months since I’ve blogged, like where I type things out. I’ve been afraid to stop and put any words to the record though. I’m not in a good condition to write now however. I just wanted to let everyone know I’m alive. Demons torment me in my sleep. And I torment myself in the day. My life feels like … Well. Let’s just say it’s not good. And I’ve received news of possibly needing to relocate… Again. Start over again. I don’t know if I can survive it again…

Impossible conversation…

Ok.  As the photo says, this is about to get deep and real.  This should not be read by those faint of heart, or unable to read something potentially emotional while using only your brain.  What I am about to talk about should not have anyone worried about me, it should not have anyone wanting to have me committed.  Read my words.  Listen to what they say, don’t read into them, because I speak the blunt truth and have no reason to hide anything from myself, my blog or those who read my words.

So, now that you’re worried.

The topic of conversation tonight is suicide.  I’ve talked to a few people already, but all of them, reacted the same, the expected way of most people.  My suicide to be precise.  No, I’m not especially depressed.  No, there is no root cause of this conversation (i.e. woes of the heart).  This is a thought that became predominant in my thoughts in the passed several weeks.  As everyone is aware, I have been unemployed since October and surviving off of my savings.  Unfortunately, those savings have disappeared.  I currently am setup to miss my car payment at the end of September as my money will only stretch until the middle of the month.  As we have already passed the half way mark for August, this means, I have about a month left with money.  After that, I’m screwed.  Sure, people say “well, consolidate your bills.”  I don’t know why anyone thinks that I wouldn’t have done this already.  I’m paying about as little per month as I could.  Sure, I could get rid of my cell phone, but right now, saving that money wouldn’t get me anywhere.  The car is my major drain.  But, as I owe twice what the car is worth, I have no way of unloading that payment.  “Well, get a job.”  Also, something I’ve been trying to do for months.  Everyone thinks that I waste all my time on the internet, making videos, blogs, tweeting, etc and I haven’t been looking.  But, I have been.  And I’ve been extremely unsuccessful.

So, why did suicide get brought up?  Surely, I can’t be thinking about death over some silly bills.  Well, I am.  I’m 25 and I just don’t feel any more fight left in me and I haven’t for some time.  I don’t aspire to finish college.  I don’t aspire to have a fancy job.  I feel like I have nothing to look forward to.  And sure, I’m likely semi-depressed if I feel that way, but then when did it start?  Because, I’ve never done well at looking forward to adult life and being able to say I saw myself with anything beyond a family, which, if you’re keeping track, I haven’t come close to doing either.  I’ve actually given up on wanting a family.  So, where does that leave me?  Sure, I like being around for some people, but if half of my life, I’m depressed and complaining to these people, aren’t they better off without me??

I guess the main thing is that I am about to fall into a hole.  I climbed out of a whole I created when I was 18, and it took me about 6 years to do.  I don’t want to dig myself out of another hole.  I’ve always prided myself on paying my bills on time and never missing payments.  If I miss a payment next month, that pride will be shattered.  That’s about one of the only things I have to be “proud” about.  I just see myself as wasting space, more and more, as time passes.  Everyone is getting on with their lives and I just kind of sit, treading water, in the same place.  I’ve made no serious progress in about 6 years.  Nothing to show for 6 years of adulthood.  I think that speaks to what I’m trying to say here.

So, beyond the bible supposedly banning suicide, what in society, stops those from wanting to check out, from checking out?  If a person is only going to be a drain on themselves and those around them, why not offer a way out?  I just only seeing things getting worst.  My health has felt in decline for a while.  New glasses or even contacts would be nice.  I think I’ve got a slew of cavities but haven’t been to a dentist in 15 years.  By the time I’m set up with a job that pays the bills and gets me insurance, I’m going to be struggling to keep my body together.  It’s not very encouraging to look forward to.

Anyways, my position is that at this point, suicide is a logical option, but definitely at the bottom of the list.  I just don’t see why people should be shocked, or react poorly to that news.  People fall out of contact all the time.  And sure, people rationalize the difference between the two by saying, “But, I could track that person down later in life if I wanted to talk to them again”, but we all know that people rarely do that.  So, out of site, out of mind.  Sure, I miss the people in my life who have passed on sometimes, but no more than I miss people who are alive that I haven’t seen in just as long.

Alright, well, if you’ve made it this far, take a deep breath and read this:
I AM NOT GOING TO KILL MYSELF RIGHT NOW.  If it becomes a top of the list option, I’ll definitely consult with people.  There’s obviously mess, physically, financially, emotionally, etc so I would want to prepare for as little spill over as possible.  I also realize this may make you uncomfortable and now you can’t talk to me.  I’m sorry if it does.  And I’m sorry if this has invoked serious emotions for you.  Remember, I said use your brain, not your heart, if you were going to read this.  I’m still alive.  I’m still trying to go forward each day.  I still hope for a long life.  We’ll see what the future holds.  Maybe I’ll have a job by September and this was a wasted thought and blog.

Anxiety like depression…

Unfortunately, some things just shouldn’t be “vlogged”. Very few people want to read about your depression, let alone watch you sit in front of a camera and talk about it. Plus, typing is a way of getting it out, even if no one will watch it. I feel if I filmed and edited myself talking about sadness and no one watched it, it wouldn’t be as much of an outlet.

A few hours ago, after roughly 3 weeks of feeling … content … I was slammed with a feeling of depression. “What set that off?” The answer:

Failing a class. Not being good enough to succeed in a mediocre setting. Not caring enough to force myself to succeed, but watch myself sit back and accept failure.

As I type this, I should be driving to my last meeting of my Geology class. However, it’s failed. We were supposed to do an assignment, like a mini-paper, and discuss it in class today. I couldn’t motivate myself to get that done and I refuse to go to class and be the asshole who didn’t complete the assignment. Knowing this class, I know I’d be the only one to not do it. So, I’m not going. Which, effectively means I will fail that class. I needed to put as much effort as humanly possible in the last week of school to pass and I failed to do so. I couldn’t motivate myself to. I don’t like to force myself against what feels right. Unfortunately, for me, that makes school difficult as I’m mostly against the idea of me being in school. School and I have never melded well. It’s not rebellion, it’s just not something that feels natural. I know lots of people feel that way, and say “just do it, no one likes school.” But, I think it’s even deeper than that for me. But, I can’t compare my feelings about it to anyone else.

Failing that class may have serious repercussions. I found out a few weeks ago that my GPA is not being transferred into my new school, despite being in the same school system. Which means, only this semester will be used to calculate my current GPA. This means, with my F, a B, a C and a D (possibly C if I can get some work done) I will have a horrendous GPA. I may be put on Academic suspension… I may have my financial aid suspended. This is a problem as that’s how I pay for a good portion of my bills right now and as I won’t be paying for school out of pocket with no job or enough money in reserve to do so. But, the window for me to pack up and go back to Milwaukee has just closed with paying the bills for May. I no longer have enough money to pay for the move back there and to float my bills for a couple months until I can find employment.

I’m in a state of flux. I have no idea what is going to happen in the upcoming weeks. I haven’t even mentioned the fact that Jeff is looking to buy a house and some of the houses he is looking at are outside of a reasonable commuting range for any school that would accept me, which, would mean that I should go back to Milwaukee anyways. But, again, I’m stuck with that monetary problem. I’m tired of being envious of 17 year old Donny. He had a car, a gf who loved him, friends to hangout with whenever he wanted, a job, enough money to have fun. 25 year old Donny still has a car, but no gf, no friends to hang out with, no job, and essentially no money. I have effectively become one of those people they make fun of in the movies and TV who remember high school as their glory days. I have become Al Bundy…

I’m lost. I don’t know if I can be found. I don’t know what I want out of life anymore besides an end to it. I know life is meant to be hard, but I’m out of answers. I’m out of ideas. I’m almost out of fight…

weakened

Well, I’m done ranting. If you haven’t seen today’s vlog, here it is:

And here’s a video to a song that I’ve listened to 100x in the last 2 days. Enjoy.

The theme never changes…

Where to start? These days are getting harder and harder.  I feel as though I’m losing grasp of who I am.  Who I want to be.  My words are no longer mine.  My actions are those of someone else.  I can’t run away.  Too much responsibility.  I can’t run home, not enough monetary ability there.  I can’t go to the Army because I wouldn’t know what to do with all my stuff while I trained, and right now I couldn’t pass all the tests required to get in.  I can’t quite school because I can’t afford repayment of loans.  I can’t stand going to school any longer because I’ve fallen behind and lost all passion to continue with work.  I just don’t know what to do.  Too many “I can’t” I can tell you that much.  I want change. I just don’t know what needs changing yet, or how to accomplish it.  Daily, I yearn for death.  Death helps no one but myself, maybe, and that’s not good enough.  I have no job, no money, no friends, no love, no life, no fun.  I’ve tried getting out of the box I’ve built myself into, but it just hasn’t worked.  Apparently, I’ve lost the ability to be sociable in a positive way.  I’ve become the guy people avoid.  The guy that people say “why is he talking to ME?”.

I’m losing my mind.  I can’t make up of down, or down of up.  I can’t make sense of anything.  I’m in a constant state of flux where something as small as a fly flapping it’s wings can knock me off my chair.  I’ve lost myself.  I look in the mirror and I don’t know who I’m looking at anymore.  I’m looking at some version of myself that existed before I knew myself.  A primitive Donny, full of nothingness.  He can’t speak, he can’t see, he can’t experience the wonders of life.  He just exists to exist.  I don’t know how to add color to his life so that he will in turn, bring color back to my own life.  I miss the vibrancy of it all.  I miss being happy to wake up a new day.  I miss wanting to go out and enjoy the sun.  I miss the hope of what’s to come next.  Now, my every move is thinking about how it could kill me.  I nearly was in an accident on my motorcycle the other day and my initial reaction after recovery was “Why the fuck do I have to have such good reflexes?! That was my out!”.  These thoughts should disturb anyone reading, as they do disturb me.  I know I need help, but I can’t afford help.  I’m barreling through life on my own.  I’ve lost those I used to talk to by either pushing them away or them getting away on their own.  I’m not going to pull them back in to tell them that life is shit when it really isn’t.  I’m not going to pull them back in telling them that life is bad but then not be able to explain why.  I feel like I’m wearing a new mask for every person I interact with.  I can’t let anyone know the exact turmoil going on in my body, my mind, my soul.  I just put on a mask and a smile and pretend like I’m only as broken as I’ve been my whole life, but in reality, I’m shattered to the core.  My thoughts only torment me when I’m sober.  And even when intoxicated, the bad thoughts are learning to pick the lock and creep in.  I don’t know what to do anymore.  I don’t know how much longer I can go on acting like everything is ok.  I don’t know how much longer I can be me.  I don’t know where to go from here!

For the record, I had an amazing time in Jamaica.  I wish that week never would have ended.  But, it reminded me so much more of how miserable I am with my life in every aspect.  But mainly, socially.  I was never meant to be a loner, but that is what I have turned into.  Not completely by choice, partially by nature.  I’m shy, I have tried to break through that barrier, but it’s a long hard road and so far, it isn’t paying off.  I still have a few of my old friends, but I fear that they will leave me as we get older and they find more socially competent people.  But perhaps that is for the best.  If everyone leaves me, if all ties to Donny are broken, then maybe I will be free.  Free to go wherever and do whatever without repercussion.  Maybe, then, I can disappear, never to be heard from again and no one will be effected.  Then it won’t be a selfish act.  Then it will just be what it is.  Who knows when that will happen.   But  I see it happening.  Danny has become too busy to talk to me lately.  And when he gets into school, I foresee him being permanently busy.  Then there’s Dylan, who has joined a frat, and if Tom didn’t prove this, he will leave me for them in time.  The few others I’ve spent my time talking to over the last couple years have seemed to be disappearing in recent months.  My phone is getting little to no use.  It’s almost a waste to be paying the bill anymore.  This has been incoherent rambling for the last several sentences so I think I’ve accomplished the decompression I needed.  Too bad that it’s too late to do anything productive at this point.   I need to try to get some sleep as I’m forcefully in charge of Rachel in the morning, which I attribute as the number 1 downfall of my life lately.  Getting up at 730am every morning NEVER has been and NEVER will be me.  It fucks my entire day up.  It makes me either a zombie for the rest of the day, unable to concentrate on homework, or it makes me take a nap, wasting the time I need to complete homework.  It’s a lose-lose.  But, in my current situation, I can’t exactly tell that to Jeff.  He’ll tell me to quit whining, then he’ll try to prove that humans naturally thrive by sleeping nights and getting up early.  I’ll continue to tell him I AM NOT ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE AND NEVER HAVE BEEN.  And we’ll just go in a circle.  It’s all fucked.  And don’t get me on that fucking dog that IS NOT MINE IN ANY WAY, SHAPE or FORM but I have to walk him the most.  It’s bullshit.  And it too fucks with my sleep.  I’m expected to give him a midnight walk and be up at 730, already making sure I can’t have 8 hours of sleep.  It’s fucked.  I think I need a hobby, too bad I have no time while playing partial parent, dog caretaker, full-time student and bitch for anything else anyone in this family needs me to do.

Rant done….

LIFE = PAIN