I feel defeated. So many times during the hours, the weeks, the months, and the years of my life, the thought comes up that this life isn’t worth living.
I know I am treading on thin ice with such a declaration. I’ve never been the optimistic sort of person. Every turn of my life scares me. Good things and bad things. And when stuff gets tough, it’s like I have no choice but to keep going because the alternative of death is not one I can see myself putting into action.
I guess that’s what is called having suicidal thoughts but not actually wanting to die. I think about not being here and alive, yet I could never make a plan to take myself out. For one thing, I am afraid of pain and what is or isn’t there for me after death.
Self-preservation is also a built-in instinct I have that is hard to let go of. I mean, you should have seen me the last time I tried to swallow an aspirin. It would’ve helped for the migraine I was battling at the time, but my throat locked up and refused to let it go down; all because my body perceived the solid object as a threat.
I did not ask to be born into this world. But since I am here, I feel a kind of obligation to stay. Partially I hate what I perceive as my “moments of weakness” where I think I can’t go on. I think of my own emotions as weaknesses because that was the culture I grew up in and what I adapted to based on my own personal biases about the kind of person I was supposed to be in front of other people.
I am very far removed from sharing my feelings like this in real life. I can count maybe a few people I trust enough that, if I were sitting face-to-face with them, I could be this honest about how not okay I am sometimes.
Something did happen that prompted me to feel so low that I ended up writing this post. It was a stupid thing that related to a situation I was in because of my anxiety. I got anxious due to a question I was being asked, and as a result, my reaction was a non-verbal response since I felt I couldn’t say, “I don’t know” out of fear of looking dumb. The person got upset at me for “not talking again”, which only made me more anxious and silent.
The same person (who knows I have social anxiety, by the way) told me I needed to work on fixing my “bad habit” while I still have time. I do feel like the misunderstood victim here because what triggers my non-response is so much more than just a “bad habit”, and it grated on my nerves that he even described my non-response as “not normal”. I agree that I can try to work through the issue, but it pissed me off that his choice of words came off as insensitive.
The situation then got me thinking about other situations where I’ve been that misunderstood, just because I didn’t have it in me to explain to the person why I reacted the way I did. I feel most indignant over his suggestion that I attempt to kick the habit even if it makes me uncomfortable. I get that he was trying to be helpful, but something snapped inside me at that moment. He made it sound so easy, as if I were just learning to stop painting my nails for a week or some trivial sh*t like that. How about he try living my life for a while, where every time and any time I have to be around another person, it’s constant anxiety about what to say or what not to say?