Lost and Searching

Processing

Suicide and Saying Goodbye

6 years ago, I tried to kill myself.

Well, kind of. I wanted to kill myself. I held the knife to my wrist and I pressed. I pressed as hard as I could. I held it there while angry tears ran down my face. I pressed it while people watched. While nobody tried to stop it.  I wanted to press it in, split the skin, and watch it bleed.

But I couldn’t. No matter how badly I didn’t want to be alive, I also didn’t want to be dead. I never managed to pierce the skin. I ended up putting the knife in a wall and walking away.

It was the culmination of a lot of years of depression and running from things. From growing up bullied, to falling for women that never wanted to be with me, to my parents divorce, to being jobless and broke. I had never dealt with anything, ever. I just pushed it all away and let it pile up in whatever space I could find.

It never went away though. It was always there, jut like the depression. And when the depression started getting worse, I became intensely introspective. This led me to find all of the things I tried to run from, and they came spilling out. I couldn’t stop them. I was drowning in them. I had no idea what to do anymore. Everything was pain.

On the night I had the knife, I was at a party. There were probably about 20 people in a relatively small apartment, with a fairly even mix of men and women. Everything was normal for most of the night. I was drunk and being more sociable than normal. I had even had a bit of luck with one girl, but then she left. The night was starting to wind down and I watched as people kept pairing off. Everyone was finding someone to hook up with, which is cool, but I was alone… again.

I’m not sure why this was the night that that was too much for me. It had always happened that way. There was never anyone around that wanted me. Nothing has really changed in regards to that. It always hurts when I’m the one that ends up all alone, but it was never that bad. I don’t know if it was the alcohol, or the growing depression, or what, but this was the night.

I can’t even tell you where I got the knife or why I had it. It was just sort of there. I think we may have been fucking around with them and trying to throw them into a wall. I can’t be certain. I was drunk and that part is hazy.

After I put the knife in the wall, I went back in and, as far as I can remember, tried to sleep. I slept fitfully for a while and then called my mom to see if she could pick me up as I didn’t have a car at the time.

I didn’t see anyone from that night for nearly 6 months. I didn’t really realize it at the time, but this was the final straw in a break with reality. It had been happening for a while, but that was when it all finally happened. After that, I stopped going out. I didn’t see anyone for months and I barely left the house. I pretty much didn’t leave unless I was getting food. I spent as much time as possible on the computer playing stupid little games to distract myself from all of the stuff that had piled up. However, I’ve written about all of this before. I’ve just never recognized it as what it really was: a break from reality. I took time away from the world to deal with all of my shit.


I don’t write about this with sadness. I never felt an ounce of melancholy while writing this tonight. In fact, I’m feeling better than I have in a good week. For some reason though, this story felt like it needed out finally. I wasn’t necessarily hiding it, I just didn’t know how to frame it and express it. I’ve mentioned it and sort of written about it before, but never in detail. It was time for it though. Time for one last tale.

I think this is a good final post for this blog. I don’t really have much need for it anymore. I’ll blog again, but most likely not here. This was the journey out of my deepest depression. While the story isn’t over and there’s still much I need to work through, this phase of it is done. It is time to move on to other venues and outlets.

So thank you, and goodbye.

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Barbed: Sweet Words for the Lonely

People always have things to say about my being single.

“You’ll find someone soon!”
“It’ll happen when you least expect it.”
“You’re lucky, you don’t have to put up with _____.”
“God has a plan for you.”

They think they’re helping, but they aren’t. They don’t know. It’s also different than when they tell this to their friends that have just gotten out of a relationship. I’ve never had one and I long ago passed the age where you’re supposed to have at least some semblance of an idea of what goes into dating. The older I get, the more difficult it is. The more I’m supposed to know, and the stranger it is that I don’t.

I won’t meet someone soon. I don’t go out. I don’t talk to people. I have the same group of friends I’ve had since I was 12. I can barely hold a conversation with the person at the checkout, so how am I supposed to meet someone and start dating? And when you expect to die alone, how can you possibly expect it less?

The people that say I’m lucky because I don’t have to put up with whatever bullshit relationship issue they choose are just fucking morons. They don’t know what it’s like to be alone like I am. When they look at being single, what they see is the freedom to do what they want without anyone to hold them accountable. They think of the annoying things that their partner does. They don’t think of the pain that comes with it, the crushing emotional and spiritual pain. They don’t remember all of the small things their partner does; the small comforting touches, the kind looks, or the intimacy that they share. They aren’t thinking about what it’s like looking at their bed and knowing that, for the X00th day straight, they get to share it with nobody. They also do not realize that when they are alone, they have touches and lovers to remember; that I have none of those small comforts. When I close my eyes and think of the women I have loved, I have to remember that not a goddamned one of them felt the same for me, that I have continually sought woman that want nothing to do with me.

And, finally… God did have a plan for me and I’m pretty sure I fucked it away 9 years ago. I know what it was, and I fucking ran. I hated Him and I told Him to take His plan and fuck off. I wasn’t going to do what He wanted after all He had let happen to me. I was angry, and spiteful, and a stupid fucking child. I made my biggest mistake for petty grievances and I’ve suffered the consequences. It’s not rational, I know, but in spite of all I have seen and learned, I can’t shake my faith in a Higher Power. I know all of the logical reasoning against a Higher Power, but there’s still that voice at the back of my mind that says “But what if you’re wrong?”, and so I believe, even if I can’t yet bring myself to live it. And if I believe, then I have to accept that He has plans, and that there are pros and cons to following them. I can’t dwell on the what-ifs, but I can see where the path diverged.


Endings Intertwined: Saying Goodbye

I don’t think I’ve ever cried this much before. I’ve cried enough that my eyes feel dry. I cried myself to sleep this morning and when I woke up, there was still my crying left to do. I’ve had a lot to mourn these past 24 hours.

Right around 4 PM Wednesday night, I got a call telling me that I was fired. Not because of poor performance or because I fucked up or anything so deserving as that. No, I was told I was fired because they had found cheaper labor in other countries. Worse still, they had brought them in several months ago and made us train them. Yes, I saw this coming, but no, I was not prepared. I figured they would at least do me the courtesy of finishing out my contract, they owed me that much. I was one of the best damned moderators that they had.

I never once applied for the job. I joined the forums back in August of 2009. Back then, I was just an avid player of a pretty awesome game <name withheld>. When I first joined up, I would mostly lurk, and read, and get to know how things worked there. After a bit of time, I finally started posting. First it was just to ask some questions I had had, then it was to answer questions that others had. Eventually, I got in the full swing of it and was spending nearly as much time on the forums bullshitting and answering questions as I was playing the game. I loved it. The game and the forums were helping me through my depression. I finally had a place to express myself, talk with others, and help.

After a few months of doing that, the Community Manager for the game contacted me and asked if I wanted to be a Volunteer Moderator. I jumped at the chance as I had been secretly working towards it for about a month. I never asked anyone, but I did what I could to emulate the moderators without going too far. I was so excited to be asked and get to do it! I had set a goal and accomplished it. I had not done that in quite some time. It was an exciting time for me. I got to spend my day plying the game I enjoyed and answering questions about it in a semi-official matter.

I did the volunteer gig for 9 months, right up until they decided to discontinue the volunteer position. At that time, the current CM for another game asked me to put in a resume to be considered for the Super Moderator position. Within 24 hours of submitting my resume I they were doing a background check and I had a job, provided everything looked alright. Which it did. After 3 horrendous years without any income whatsoever, I had a job. Things were finally looking up.

When they brought me on as a Super Moderator, they put me on a different game, <name withheld>. It was an awesome placement for me. I had been playing the game since the first hour it was live and all of my mod friends from <name withheld> were now working there, so it was like a reunion. I loved it. I was working 55+ hours per week and making decent money because of it. On top of that, I was modding a far more active forum and answering even more questions. It was probably the single best job I’ve had so far. The hours were rough, but the pay made it worth it. It allowed me to start doing stuff for myself, which I hadn’t ever really been able to do at any point in my life.

In all, it was a great time. The only sour part was that I ended up having to take a 3 month hiatus after one year because of some bullshit law regarding contract workers. That was tough, but I made it through, barely. After my 3 months was up, I reapplied and was immediately brought back on. During my absence, they had enacted some new styles of moderation, which were difficult but not impossible for me to work with. The real issue for me was my placement. I got a game that I didn’t care much for, but a forum that had a vibrant group of posters that I could care for. So, in spite of not liking the game, I came to love the forums. I had inherited them from another, but I tried to make them my own. I think I did a good job of it and I enjoyed my time there.

After a few months back on the forums, they finally asked me to do something that I had been waiting over a year for: to take over a game’s forums from the inception. I was finally given a game from day one and given some free reign to make them my own forums and help mold the community. I cherished the opportunity and did what I could to make it a great forum while still working on the previous forum I had been assigned to. Overall, it was a fun time for me and I would have loved to keep doing it, but after a couple months longer, they offered me a promotion, though it was just in title only (no pay raise or anything).

This is when the end game was enacted though. They brought in other moderators from outside of the US and moved us to another new moderation style that pretty much nobody wanted but would provide better coverage. Everything was changing. Initially, it seemed like it would be for the better, but things changed. Eventually, we started to see what was happening, how we were being pushed out. I tried to overlook it, tell myself that I was seeing things and that they wouldn’t get rid of us. And then I got that phone call. In that moment, it all came crashing down and I saw the man behind the curtain. They had manipulated us into training our replacements and getting them ready to take over for us. It was a sickening feeling to realize all of that.

I’m not overly bitter about it though. It was handled poorly, but the company had still given me nearly 2 years of employment which had been a big part of my healing process from my deepest depression. The job had also lead me to a lot of people that I will forever call friend. It was tough saying goodbye to the job and knowing that I wouldn’t get to see everyone every day any longer. They were a part of my daily routine and I knew it would be tough without them.

However, that wasn’t the toughest part. Compared to what else I had to do that Thursday, everything else was easy. After work that Thursday, I had to say goodbye to a good friend; my first.

It wasn’t something I wanted to do. I didn’t want to say goodbye to her. I wanted to stay her friend and have her around, but I wasn’t being her friend. I was waiting for her to change her mind and realize that she wanted to be with me, and it was killing me. Waiting for her and knowing it wouldn’t happen caused me pain every day. Every time she signed in, I hurt. I couldn’t do it any longer The only possible solution was to say goodbye to her for a time, no matter how badly I wanted to avoid it (and had avoided it).

That may have been one of the most difficult things I have ever done. The whiskey definitely helped it happen, but I knew it had to be done. I didn’t even remotely keep myself together for the conversation. I haven’t cried that hard in a long time. We weren’t even together and it was tearing me apart. It’s times like that that I wish I didn’t care, or at least, that I cared for the right ones. I have a hard habit of falling for women that will never be with me.

When it was all said and done, I ended up just crawling in bed and sobbing myself to sleep. She was never mine… but it killed me to say goodbye. I never wanted it, but what I wanted was never going to happen.  The hardest part was that I shared a part of myself with her that I don’t let anybody see. I showed her my soul. I let her see just who I am inside of all of this. And that’s the part that hurts. The part that knows she could accept it and be okay with it but could never love it. And all it wants is to be loved. And it is the part that still hurts today, though it doesn’t hurt nearly as much. We weren’t together, I can’t devote long to mourning our parting.

If I had done this sooner, these last few months may have been very different. I might have been able to make some progress like I had been doing before she came into my life. I put a lot aside to pursue her, and even after she told me it wouldn’t happen, I still tried. I couldn’t help it. There’s a very lost little boy inside of me that just wants to be loved and he will attach himself to anything he thinks will give it to him, regardless of what I think or feel about the situation. I tried so hard to change things, to make sure I didn’t get hurt. The only thing that really changed was that I managed to tell her I wanted to fuck her and that I was able to end it. It didn’t matter though. I still got hurt. That doesn’t mean I won’t try again, it just sucks knowing I have to try again. Who knows, maybe this next one will lead to a girlfriend.

 

I just don’t know how many more times I can be hurt.

 

And now, I’m hurt and adrift with no real direction in any part of my life. The only constant I had was taken from me because they found someone willing to work for less money. I’ll survive – I always do – I’m just not sure what levels of survival I will have to use. The last time I got laid off it took me three years and a shitload of luck to get a new job. I hope it doesn’t come to that again. I might not survive it. I barely made it out the last time and I am nowhere near where I was before it happened last time.


Introspection

Introspection is not always such a noble thing to have. While it can lead to deeper understanding of one’s self, knowing those things is not always good. Oftentimes the things you learn lead to more questions and the cycle repeats until you are so far within that you cannot see the path back out.

There is no kind way to put it, but I sometimes wonder what it would be like to be too stupid to know you’re fucked up. There is a certain sort of peace that can be achieved in just living as you are without analyzing why it is you are as you are. I realize that this is something that can be achieved by anyone no matter their intelligence level, but I find that the fact that I can seek out the reasons behind things means I have to and that I have no choice in it sometimes.

This is not to say I am better than anyone for this. Nobody is any better than another person, and I least of all. We are all on equal ground until we go forth and prove that we do not deserve to be, but it is not for me to decide who is better or worse. Others will decide that among themselves, though they likely shouldn’t. Judgement should be left to those that cannot be judged themselves, but such is not our society.

Going back, introspection is something I am cursed with. It does not have to be curse, but it has been thus far. At the height of my worst depression introspection was all that I had. I went so deep that I could not find a way out. I was stuck within myself, analyzing all that had failed in my life until that time. I could not find the balance between it and living.

I am still quite introspective, but now I am trying to find the balance. I can analyze myself, but I also need to go out and put what I find to use. I haven’t done that much lately, though. Since I got back from my trip I have been stuck in a state of deep introspection. I have shut myself away from the world for a time as I figure out where I succeeded and where I failed. It is a step backwards, but I think it is one I needed to take. But, now, I need to start making steps forward again. I thought my art was that, but it was more of a step sideways. It was good, but it was just another aspect of introspection.

I think that two months of deep thought on all that happened on my trip is enough. It was a huge moment in my life. For the first time in many years, I went very far out of my way to be with a woman. Looking back, I probably should have avoided it because it left me more hurt than healed, but I am glad I did it. Yes, she was not someone I could be with, but I could never know that until I went and saw it for myself. It showed me that even if it may not work out, I can put myself out there if I think it might be worthwhile. It may have even be good that it failed, because this time it failed in a positive matter. Yes, it hurt, but it did not drag me down as much as it would have in the past. I know I have stepped away from things for a bit, but I think that is natural in such a situation.

I also lost my stigmata, my virginity. It hung over me like a dark cloud. I wore it like a badge of shame. Losing it was nothing as I expected. I did not suddenly gain anything. I am still the same person. The only difference is that I cannot call myself a virgin any longer.

The only real change that losing my virginity brought is that my libido is off the charts and I can’t stop thinking about all that we did that weekend. It has driven me crazy lately. It has also negatively affected my relationship with the woman at times, as I cannot always keep myself from asking if we can go back to it at times even though we have both decided to leave that aspect out of our relationship going forward. I’m not the least bit happy I cannot contain myself at all times, but sometimes the tension within me is too great to ignore and it bursts forth in the most inappropriate of ways. I wish I could handle it better, but I’m just not certain what to do. I’m to the point of… handling things… 3+ times a day lately, to the point of pain. I know that getting laid would help, but that is another can of worms that I am still working on.

I find it interesting that a post about the pitfalls of introspection lead to a short period of introspection. I suppose it should be only natural to assume that when discussing a topic, one would delve into it and find unexpected paths within it. Not all introspection is bad though. It is a very useful tool that can be used to understand yourself better and become a better person, but it must be used wisely. If you are overly introspective  you can negatively affect yourself. You can go so deep into it that you get lost and you start critiquing every single word or thought that you have. If you go that deep you are only hurting yourself as you can become more worried about the consequence of the action before it is made and forget that action needs to be made in order to actually have a consequence to analyze. Once you begin to analyze what-ifs, you risk losing yourself for fear of making the wrong decision, which is something I did for many years and have been doing for the past 2 months. Though, now that I see it I should be able to move past it.


The Missing Piece

Until I finally have what it is I have searched for my entire life, I will always feel the void of it. I know and I understand that it is not the time for it yet, but I can never fully put it out of my mind. It is a part of me. It hurts me. It has destroyed me in the past. I am doing all that I can to put it out of my mind, but it is still there, waiting and lurking.

It has brought me to tears several times this week. This week was huge. I got a promotion I have been working towards for months, I got a new avenue for art, and I got my finances in better shape for the first time in many years. I am so incredibly happy for all that I got this week, but there is that lost and lonely part of me that mourns that in all my happiness, I have no one to share it with.

I’ve thought about it more though, but in a different way. Though I am thinking about being alone, I am thinking more of what it is that I crave and need in this loneliness rather than just ‘I’m alone, I hate this, give me anything!!’. I see now that what it is that I crave is not some hyper-sexual goddess to fuck my brains out. What I want most of all is someone that I can sit with and talk with and share my life with. I don’t see much meaning in doing things for myself. I’ve never cared much for myself. I want more to share who I am with others. I am fully aware of who I am, I don’t need to do things to edify myself.

Except, I do. I am a broken individual. I have a lot of issues I need to sort through and I need to learn to actually do things for myself. I have been working on this; it’s why I bought the tablet and other things to advance my art, but I still only do it in very few ways. I need to get a handle on my life. I need to be the one in control of it. What do I really have to share with another right now? A broken shell that is waiting to be filled. There’s more than that, but my personality, intelligence, and whatever else will be overshadowed by my overwhelming sense of brokenness. I do have much to offer, but I don’t think I’m ready to really offer it yet. I want to, have wanted to for years, but I don’t know that I actually can yet. I can’t know until it happens though.

I have no knowledge in this subject at all. I just know what it is I want and what I want to do.