posted July 27, 2010 03:13 PM         

I'm forcing myself out of bed every day, and looking for things to make me laugh.

posted July 27, 2010 03:37 PM         

I know the feeling of not wanting to get out of bed. It's not being lazy, it's that you can't get the mental energy to do it.
I remember being out of work and so depressed because I couldn't find work. I would have to force myself out of bed to get my son ready for school. Then I'd drive him to school...in my pajama's. I'd go back home and get back in bed and sleep until it was time to pick him up. Sleep has always been my way of dealing with depression.

As a kid I was abused at home by my father and my babysitter. I'd go to school only to get teased. So my way of dealing with it was to lay down on the black top at recess and lunch break with my head in my arms. It was my way of hiding. If I fell asleep the school bell would wake me up. Then if I heard people tease me I could pretend I didn't hear.

posted July 28, 2010 06:04 PM         

just say say ..

posted July 30, 2010 12:12 PM         

I have been suicidal recently too, but it is only the thoughts of it, of being in so much pain inside and having such low self esteem I just fantasize sometimes about it for a way out. But it probably isn't a way out exactly.

posted July 30, 2010 02:48 PM         

Ami
(((Wink))) I just read about your childhood years.
My mother sexually abused me. It was "mild" if you could say that.
I am too tired to go in to it -now --lol
Maybe I will another time.

posted July 30, 2010 06:23 PM         

Ami Ann
My mother sexually abused me too.
Sad you went through that too.

PS. Today's doctor visits went well!
More meds, and a slew of lab and blood work ordered for both of us and referrals for a couple of specialists.

posted July 30, 2010 10:49 PM         

http://www.linda-goodman.com/ubb/Forum4/HTML/000469-2.html
Or start your own.
You are not alone.

posted August 01, 2010 09:54 AM         

Ami

posted August 03, 2010 04:13 PM         

quote:

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Winkaway,
Your energy is so kind and loving.

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posted August 03, 2010 05:59 PM         

x o Ami

------------------
Who looks outside dreams;who looks inside wakes.

posted August 21, 2010 02:47 PM         

I'm right back in the hole, and I hate the reasons for it. My own choices, wasting time and dealing with someone who repeatedly messed with my head. I was feeling free, the first week of December, in March, in May, and then briefly in July - as well as the afternoon my grandmother was buried. And then it all started again.

I need to find some way to pull myself out of this hole, because I don't know how much more of this I can take. It has to get better, for more than a few days or weeks. I just want to feel good about myself again.

posted August 21, 2010 03:54 PM         

My life is filled with the horror that the choice of one individual has encompassed.

I feel for all of us, there is not a day that goes by that I just want to give up, but something keeps me going on.

Many ask "how could somebody take their own life...??" One just does not know till one has been there....

I have argued with my mother, she just cant understand why my beautiful daughter would want to do such a thing and why my kid does the things she does..I keep trying to tell mother...you just dont know, till you been there...it is not the rational mind that opts out....

She was going on and on today about her dogs, a wheelchair for one, eye infections for another.....I WISH I had only her issues to deal with.

Anyway, none of you are alone..we are here and struggling every day, just to keep going..

blessings

posted August 24, 2010 02:32 AM         

I don't relate to most of the cliches and (what I believe to be) the manufactured opinions most people seem to have about suicide. We've been told how we ought to see it, and most of us are too impressionable to see it any other way. I don't think it's a horror. I think our notions about it are what make us suffer, for the most part. People wonder how someone could do it, but I've always wondered why more people don't do it. Why is the survival instinct so strong -- and by that I mean the instinct to perpetuate the life of the body on this plane(t)?

Suppose a member of your family expressed a deep and abiding wander lust. Suppose they always dreamed of crossing the ocean and visiting a foreign land. Suppose nobody else wanted to go with them and they were resolved to go (alone). Would you weep and gnash your teeth and call them mad, cowardly, selfish, etc.? It seems to me that taking such a journey would be a brave thing and, under certain circumstances, not at all unreasonable or selfish. Perhaps we would be the cowardly, insane, and selfish ones, for insisting that we have a right to stop them or judge them.

Or what if they wanted to become a monk? And they resolved to leave "the world" and enter a monastery. We would never see them again. Sure, it would be difficult to let them go, but do we really have a right to stand in the way of their decision? Just because we are so attached to life in the world, do we really have a right to demand that they be just as attached as we are? And can we really call them insane or sick for their lack of attachment?

Perhaps the pain such a person feels is on account of their attachment to this plane(t), and not on account of their "death wish". Where did we get this idea, that we are supposed to be here, and not supposed to leave? Who says so? Why did we internalize this belief? Is it because we cannot bear to imagine that there is no reason for our being here? Would it really be so absurd and meaningless, if the choice is ours?

Look around... Look at all the people starving, suffering of diseases, killing one another over land, money, religious ideologies, etc. What peculiar creatures we are. How did we come to be so obsessively invested in this mess? For a long time, I struggled with the desire to leave this place. Now, I think what I was really struggling with was the notion that I had to stay. I am very stubborn, and, whether I stay or go, I've always felt that it had to be my choice. I've resented the expectations placed on me. I've resented being told what I can or cannot do with my life. It was not my choice to be born, and, here, I was being told that the choice to die was not mine either. Bullocks!

The moment I gave myself permission to die, I no longer felt the same longing to die. What I really wanted was freedom. Not the freedom that I imagined I would only find in death, but merely the freedom to live or die, according to my will. Still, though, I do not feel that I have full possession of this freedom, since I am bound to the ones I love, who would be hurt by my passing. I want to convince them that my suicide would not be something traumatic. And, indeed, I see no reason that it needs to be traumatic. Really, the only thing that makes it traumatic, I'm convinced, is the notion people hold onto that it is, and must be, traumatic! It is this notion, more than anything, which traumatizes them. And it's only because they have been brought up to believe that suicide is tragic, and that life (on earth) is the most precious thing -- indeed, the only thing.

Perhaps we, who do not feel at home here, subconsciously induce profound suffering in ourselves so that our loved ones will be able to comfort themselves when we are gone by the thought that we must be better off in death. It is a strange thought. Perhaps all we really want is permission to die; to die without causing tremendous grief to those we leave behind. Often, I have felt resentment towards my family, friends, and my partner, for putting me in this position. I feel sure that, if they were more open-minded, they could break free of this notion that suicide is tragic, -- so they could free me of the obligation I feel, to live for their sakes and not my own. But I know this is asking too much of them.

The prejudice against death is too strong, too deeply embedded in their psyches. They would never understand. They would always ache, not because they missed me, but, because they hold so tightly to the notion that suicide is something taboo; something to fear, stigmatize, judge, mourn, and outlaw. In my mind, I would only be a man crossing an ocean, in search of an undiscovered country, "from whose bourn no traveler returns". Not an unreasonable man, but a man obeying his intuition, and leaving behind a world already bent on its own destruction; a world that never, or hardly ever, understood me; never listened to me (at least, not to what was most original and personal in me); but only made demands upon me, and expected me to conform with its own idiotic investments and assumptions.

Why are we here? Why must we descend to this place, rather than ascend into the heart of ineffable spiritual joys? Perhaps the answer is simple. Perhaps we are here only because we choose to be; because sometime, long ago, in the forgotten pre-history of our species, somebody sold us on the idea that we had to be here; that we are here for some divinely ordained reason; and that our own will is an insufficient authority, which must be sublimated for the sake of an allegedly higher will, of which we know nothing and can know nothing.

I say, be done with the debate. Go, if you want to go. Stay, if it is your choice to stay. Only if it is your choice. Have countless generations of ancestors struggled and overcome unimaginable odds, so that you might carry the torch of human evolution one step further? Perhaps. But, so what? F*ck 'em. What did they know? Most likely, they were greater fools that we are now; driven by blind instinct, or worse, -- superstition. Perhaps the whole of human history, and the entirety of evolution itself, has existed only to reach this point where a man may take his own life into his hands, in defiance of all that came before him, and say, "No!"

No; I will not "go gentle into that good night." I will not carry the torch one step further into the dark tunnel of blind destiny, to see my words laughed to scorn, and the work of my hands corrupted in the hands of my descendants. I will not tempt another holocaust, another famine, another plague, another war, or another civilization built on materialism and conquest. "Vanity of vanities; all is vanity!"

It is a dubious investment, at best. So I say, live, if you want to live. Die, if you want to die. Invest, if you want to invest. But do not delude yourself, or others, into thinking this is some great enterprise. It is a gamble, just as death is a gamble. But, while we do not know what death may bring, we know well the horrors life has in store for humanity. We know that, for every rich man, there is an entire family that starves. And for every intelligent man, there is a village of idiots, who would burn him at the stake if they knew his thoughts. For every liar, there are a thousand people ready to believe his lies, and lie to themselves. This is the world. Take it as it is, love it as it is, or not at all. To me, it is no great affair. It's just the world. And we are just men, impressed with ourselves, and intoxicated by our own small power, for a little while. We are children at play, building up our blocks, and burning them down. It's not worth the price we pay, but here it is. Enjoy it for a little while. Or wander off. The choice is yours.

"There is but one truly serious philosophical problem and that is suicide." (-- Albert Camus) I would stipulate only that, if suicide is a serious philosophical problem, then procreation is more serious still. The choices we make for ourselves pale beside the choices we make for others. For this reason, and for all the reasons I've mentioned in this post, I am morally opposed to procreation. If you have children, you have a responsibility to care for them, or to do your best to make sure that they will be cared for. I do not celebrate, but I weep, for every child that comes into this world; saddled with the demands, expectations, and assumptions of a foolish species that deludes itself about what it knows and what it does not know, and that, ultimately, cannot get enough of itself.

posted August 24, 2010 10:15 AM         

quote:

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I know the feeling of not wanting to get out of bed. It's not being lazy, it's that you can't get the mental energy to do it.

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