Posted in here before but may as well drop something since it's been a ride of a year or two. Personality fragmented again, just about offed myself in November, found some docs that are helpful for once, and am slowly having my organs liquified by being a depressed bag of potatoes for over twenty years. So here goes I guess.
Been a depressed bag of potatoes for twenty years or more so I was a depressed sack when I showed up here. My distrust of people meant I generally didn't talk about it or my life unless it bled out of me. I think I'm largely the same as I was then, and that's because the only emotions I can process are still here. Humor, empathy and sympathy, and being sad.
Over the last year I've done some work with docs. While not a comfort, three of them said the same shit to me. I've been through stuff that most don't ever even get in one lifetime, and that changes people emotionally. They all confirmed my suspicions. Had first suicide attempt when I was twelve. The will and want to die has never left me, but I managed to shove most of it into my sub-conscious and combat what's left by making promises to people I gave a fuck about that I wouldn't let it beat me.
How that's come back to bite me is through psychosomatic symptoms. My mini-heart attack in 2020 and what appears to be slowly failing organs and crippling fatigue is all the result of the background of my brain wanting to die being strong enough that it's winning slowly by shutting everything down. I've done cognitive behavioral changes on my own over the years, but the docs figured its time for drugs since my serrotonine and dopamine reserves are fried(mainly because my coping methods in the past were excessive gaming and internet usage)
I visited a grave marker for my SO in october, consciously changed some things in my head, and then fell apart in November. I've bouts of I guess what could be described as psychosis or something else, and whatever's left of me shifts around. I leave behind something of my personality while somebody else steps away, and that takes time to adjust to, as for a while I don't know who I am.
I used that to make improvements, at least. Mental changes to fight better. Meds are iffy. I adapt to them quickly, but they're giving me a leg up at least.
The sole main upside to this year is that I said fuck it and decided to turn one of my stories into a comic or graphic novel of some kind. Test of everything I've learned. I've learned more in the last month than I have in two years, which is great. I learn as I work, and I love the work. I think if all I had was projects like what I'm undertaking now to do for the rest of my life, I could manage with being an emotionally destroyed sad bag of potatoes, even if I don't manage to fix these things entirely.
I don't want to say that things are better. I'm still an emotionally crippled pile that's usually sad, tired, and terribly alone and unable to connect to people without immense difficulty. I feel like a sixty year old trapped in a fourty year old's body who happens to be twenty nine. A flesh carcass, if my humor speaks for me.
But for some reason I'm still trying to fight it. And that's okay. I die one day anyway. Whatever I do while I'm alive is enough because I won't have the opportunity for any of it one day.
How have you changed since Sep7 began?