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I know no one reads these anyway, so I'm not really afraid to post what I'm thinking up here. I didn't create this blog to impress people; I'm not trying to get a lot of readers. The blog is for me, not anyone else. So I'll post what I feel like posting, because I already know that no one but me will read it.

I can't stand how much I'm deteriorating. I can't stand how useless and dead I've become. I've had to quit school because my brain doesn't work...I couldn't get anything out of classes, and attempting to do homework didn't go well either. I couldn't think well enough to do anything, and it just put me into a state of ridiculousness. One night I just gripped a knife for more than an hour and fought with my brain, pleading with the voices in my head to just let my skin be. So yeah, I quit school. I couldn't do it anymore. I wasn't just trying to be lazy; I just can't do it. And I hate that it's become this now.

Work is a joke; I love my job but even without school I can't do it. If I manage to stay for four hours it's a miracle. I'm supposed to get 20 hours a week but lately I've just been getting 15, and only barely. I know I won't be able to keep my job for long, with the way things are going, and since I had to quit school and have to pay back loans starting immediately, the whole about-to-be-jobless thing is not good. Not that it would be good anyway, but y'know.

I'm in a handbell choir up here and even that isn't easy for me. I love the music but I always leave handbell in the midst of a panic attack and I'm just exhausted after trying to hide how incredibly screwed up I am. I know the people that pay attention probably notice that something's wrong, but I also know that I've hidden basically all of it from them. They have no idea what's going on in my head; none of them. A few might know bits and pieces but they don't know...they don't know.

Is there any other aspect in my life? Well I have these books that I'm writing...or rather, that I want to be writing. I'll get bits down after a while but it's hard, it's hard for me to sit down and do it. These books that I want to write....they kept me going a while, just having the idea and everything, but now they just make me angry, because I can't even write them.

And people ask what I'm doing to get help, why have I given up, why am I not trying anymore...but they don't know, they don't have any idea how hard I've tried. They can't see that I really am *still* trying. Over ten years of trying to get better and now here I am, completely useless and spent. My depression has been worse, my psychosis has been worse...this isn't the worst I've been as far as that goes, and yet here I am totally incapable of doing anything, of doing anything productive or worthwhile. I can't. I just can't. When I was younger and very dangerously (to myself) psychotic and depressed, I still managed to get A's in school, I still functioned. And now I'm just nothing. And I hate that. I hate being nothing. I hate not being able to do anything useful. And I try, I do try. People can't see that I do, people can't tell that I'm trying, and so they blame me.

No doctor can take me that might be able to help me; and the doctors that try to help me don't know how to make me better.

The therapist I have...had...stopped trying to counsel me about my illness. The last few sessions we spent the hour discussing possible ways of me getting in to see someone else, because my therapist and no one else in his office knows what to do.

Medications are a joke and not worth trying, because none of them work.

Last-resort treatments ultimately didn't work, and just ended up being a waste of money.

And people say to just keep going, just keep trying...what more can I do? You tell me what avenue to try next and I'll try it. But I don't see any other options. I mean, if you had tried EVERYTHING I have tried, would still keep trying to find an answer? Would you? This illness I'm fighting is designed to make you give up, be sure to keep that in mind. And when every shred of evidence points to "there's nothing anyone can do to help you"....what am I supposed to do?

In the past I've said, "well I'm not giving up--what's there to do when you give up?" I still hold by that....what IS there to do once you've given up? Nothing. There's nothing. And that's no different from what's happening now. Have I given up? Not by choice. I suppose that doesn't make sense, it can't make sense for someone who has never gone through something like this. But I literally can NOT do anything. I can NOT function. Telling me that I'm not trying hard enough is just the same as telling a paralyzed person that he/she is not trying hard enough to walk. I can NOT do it. I didn't choose to have this happen; I didn't choose to drop out of school. It wasn't a matter of choice. I just couldn't do it anymore.

And by the way, no decent person would tell a paralyzed person that they weren't trying hard enough to walk and it's their fault they're in that wheelchair. So stop telling me that I've just given up and that I should keep trying to do things that are impossible for me right now.

I know I'm blaming everyone else right now. I do have that anger and I’m obviously not hiding anything; like I said, no one reads the shit I put up anyway so it’s pointless to edit myself for the sake of others.

But not all of my anger is toward other people. Most of it is just toward myself. I can’t help but think how enormously similar my situation is to someone else’s. Someone I abandoned. My ex-husband. I am not the only one who has made that connection. My mother has told me, “you’re doing what Asher did” “you’re acting just like Asher right now”. Thanks for that, mother. I really needed you to point that out to me, because that obviously is going to help me feel better about myself.

And yet, she’s right. There are a lot of similarities. Asher dropped out of school. Asher sat on his ass all day and did absolutely nothing. Asher didn’t sleep. He stayed up endlessly to distract himself. He didn’t take care of himself. He didn’t clean up anything…

And I’m doing all of that. And I hate it.

I hate it for many reasons. One, I of course don’t want to be like Asher. No one ever wants to be like their ex-spouses, ‘cause there’s a reason they left them. I left Asher because he did nothing and he didn’t try to get better. And here I am, doing nothing, and past options to even be trying anything to get better.

Another reason I hate it…I feel really hypocritical right now. I left him and blamed him for not doing anything. I left him for things he did and didn’t do and now I’m exactly the same way. How dare I do that? And to go along with this…why should I expect anyone to stick around with me? Not romantically of course; I’m not looking for anything romantic right now anyway. But I mean in general. No one would want to, and honestly, no one should have to. I’m completely useless. Is it my choice to be that way? No, of course not. But that doesn’t change that that’s the way it is.

How dare I leave Asher when I’m no better?

I’m not going to go back to him or anything, of course. That would be stupid, and I don’t love Asher anyway. But I still feel bad that I left him and have just become a lot of the things that I hated.

Part of me wants to believe that we’re different, though. Part of me wants to say, but I did try, I did. There’s just nothing left. Asher didn’t try anything to help him. He tried two different therapists and just stopped after that. He didn’t try. I’ve been trying for years. But really that doesn’t change anything for me. I gave up on him. I feel like it was the right thing to do, but I’m angry because now I really see that what it’s like to look at someone like me, and feel obligated to stay around when inside you hate all of it. There were so many days while I was with Asher that I just felt like I kept dying, over and over and over again, because of how he hurt me by his actions and by his inaction. And now I’m like him. I’m not transgender or anything like that, of course, but I’m just a useless piece of shit, sitting here completely unable of doing anything.

And I hate it.

I don’t want to be a bother to anyone but I can’t stand to be alone, either. It isn’t right that I should be that way. If I’m going to cause people pain, I shouldn’t try to be in their company. But I hate being alone. I hate being isolated and….and cold. I feel cold inside, totally by myself in a wasteland of ice where I can’t move and can’t get out and…and I just want to be okay again. I want to function again. I want….I want to NOT be me. I don’t want to change into someone else; I want to have never been this person I am right now. So sick and wasted. And rotten. My brain is rotted and diseased and no one knows how to help me, and those that can or might help won’t.

I can feel things slipping. The few things I’m trying so hard to hold onto are just leaving, slipping bit by bit. I don’t know if it’s them or if it’s me but I can’t hold on to anything any more and I’m scared. I’m just so scared. I’m terrified all the time, but I mainly just try to hide it behind a scowl or a frown so that no one sees how horrified I am, so they don’t try to take advantage of it. People do that, people take advantage of ignorance and weakness and fear and they never let you go. Even the people I thought no longer have control over me….they do, they do have control over me whether they think they do or not. I’m so sick and I’m so scared and I just want to be better.

I just want to be happy, happy for more than 3 weeks ever in my life. And I want the happiness to be real and deep, not shallow. I want to not always be afraid that I will never be happy again.

I want to heal.

I want to be better. I want to not be afraid to sleep. I want to be able to honestly think of sleep as a kind of rest instead of another form of blackness. Complete darkness is all there ever is, it surrounds me and chokes me. It’s all I breathe, and my lungs are tired of bearing the weight of the darkness. I’m suffocating and no one can help.

Can I please just be happy? And at peace? Without being worried that it’s just going to all go away? Please? Please?

Can no one make me better? Maybe not even healed. I’ll take not healed. I just want to be better. I want to breathe. And I want to live. I want to be able to do more than just survive. I want to do more than just crawl along. I want to be able to walk and run and not be afraid that I’ll never see light again.

I just want to be BETTER.

Please?