notes on the year so far, and generally life. warning for mentions of everything awful under the sun (haha im kidding but in all seriousness warnings for: depression, anxiety, abuse, suicidal thoughts)
I got a job, lost a job, got a job, lost a job. I made friends, lost friends, and reconnected with old friends. I’ve had some amazing times with friends and in my hobbies as a result, I’ve bought a car and I’m well on my way.
This is also the year, however, I had to call a suicide hotline, decided how I’d kill myself, and even wrote two different suicide notes and had serious plans to write my will.
A lot of the stuff you see on Pinterest and Tumblr regarding suicide-- the really popular posts that get shared and reposted and end up on Facebook and whatever-- they focus on something pretty specific.
Don’t kill yourself because of how other people feel.
I’ve spent my whole adult life putting other people’s feelings before my own. It’s a crime in my own house for me to be upset-- the focus is always ‘Puddor is upset and shouldn’t be’ rather than anything that might be upsetting me. This is up to and including having Christmas presents I personally handcrafted stolen. I can safely say a lot of the reason I am still here is because everyone else takes priority. I spend so much of my time trying to appease others that until quite recently I spent almost no time keeping myself in one piece. So, putting other people first isn’t entirely a choice I’ve made.
I am...very tired of living for other people.
I get it, that sounds selfish. There are people who spend their whole lives doing just that. Parents and community workers and teachers, they want to help others. But I’m not deluded enough to say I’m one of those people. I’m sure as hell not deluded enough to ever let myself be a parent. But, why is it the focus? Why is it such a horrible thing to want to be happy, to make my own happiness a priority?
I kind of realised over the past few weeks something that is quite painful but relevatory -- my happiness doesn’t come first to anyone. All these people I put first, that I’d sacrifice my health, wellbeing, time and money for, no one feels the same about me.
That’s okay. They’re not required to do so. But it means that if I want someone to put my happiness first, I will have to be selfish. The only person who will do so is myself, because it’s always been the same. If I’m not second place, I’m lower down the list. Basically, I want to live for myself. I want to be able to find meaning in myself instead of other people and my relationships to them.
It feels so hollow to sustain my will to live based on other people’s feelings. Don’t kill yourself because they’d be sad? For a lot of them...I think it wouldn’t really be sadness. It’d be guilt. I’m a spiteful person...so I really do need to live for myself.
It’s hard. It’s sad. People speak of support networks and family and connections and I can’t help but feel jealous. But I’ve picked it apart. My PTSD, my suffering, what remains of my shattered memory, it all speaks volumes: no one will put me first except myself.
So that’s what I’m going into this new year with. I’ll change, but only because I want to. And I’m not going to let other people define whether I’m valid, deserving, or worth it. That’s up to me.
Once I have a job, I’ll be leaving home and not coming back. Probably not ever. The thing is, putting yourself/others first is fine. But knowing your choices are continuing to cause me to be abused, knowing I have no way out? That’s not fair.
This is also the year I realised I’m a guy, and it feeds into the above. The fear of rejection still runs so strong within me. I want to confide in my father, because I still trust and love him, but I know that deep down he’ll think less of me, even if he outwardly accepts. He probably doesn’t remember certain commentary when I was growing up and discovering cosplay/binding, but I do. Has he really changed since then? in some ways.
He, at least, accepts that I’m sick, and I’ve been sick for a long time. I didn’t improve until I went on medication. I don’t know why this is so hard for people to understand-- that I went on medication, got a job, got a life, did something with myself.
That me, unmedicated, wasn’t ‘lazy’, or deliberately sabotaging myself for some weird reason. I have depression, I literally cannot function on a normal level if I’m not medicated.
I have to forgive myself for being sick. And I have to ignore the resentment and behaviour I receive from others because they still can’t accept that I’m sick.
I’m sick of trying to please these people.
This year, I’ll be happy. I’ll be true to myself. And I’m not going to live for others.