Nemo Ab Aeterno
My waking thought this morning was, “Why can’t I just die already?” I’m feeling overwhelmed and weary, to the point of not wanting to wake up ever again.
The past 10 days have been very strange – there have been several stressful situations and unusual events. As a result, I haven’t been sleeping well and also haven’t had a chance to take a break or regroup. I’m tired in my body and mind, but I’m also just tired of being this person I am. I’m tired of misunderstanding things, having strong emotions, and seeing things in a strange way.
Today I feel a deep sadness. I had two reminders this past weekend that there’s something fundamentally wrong with my thought processing and the way I react to unusual or new situations.
It’s weird, because neither incident was particularly remarkable. Yet, here I am a couple of days later feeling embarrassed, ashamed, foolish, and (more than anything) stupid. I feel stupid because I think there really is something wrong with me, if my perception of reality is so different from other people’s.
I feel stupid because I don’t understand why I can’t just be normal. I feel stupid because someone tried to make me feel stupid by accusing me of thinking I’m better than others because I felt panic at the thought of driving a stranger in my car. I feel stupid because I briefly allowed myself a tiny glimmer of hope, and then felt a disproportionate level of hurt when it was (predictably) dashed.
I feel stupid because I just went to the bathroom to cry, and then looked in the mirror and realized I look beautiful today. All of my clothes are flattering, my hair looks nice, my face looks glowing and pretty. I mean, I look great aside from the fact that my eyes are all red from crying. I’d usually laugh at myself in the mirror with that kind of thought, but I can’t even laugh today.
I can see how I must look to people who don’t know me, and that is strange to me. I am not the person I look like I should be. There is such an internal discrepancy between how I look on the outside and how I feel on the inside that I generally do not even look in the mirror because that reflection doesn’t look like me. In some ways, there’s a high level of dissociation. I know that is me, but I also know I’m no longer an embodiment of what other people assume or expect me to be.
The real me (my true personality) is a turn-off to those who find my face or body attractive. It’s apparent when I consider how all potential dates mysteriously disappear when I mention I don’t want casual sex. It’s apparent when I consider how many times I’ve been rejected by males I was interested in, because they actually knew me as a person. It’s apparent when I consider that even my ex-husband (who claimed he’d love me “forever”, until I stopped pretending to be someone he could love) came out and said, “I never loved you, I just loved the idea of being with a beautiful woman.”
I’m not a beautiful woman, though. Or, rather, my personality is not that of “a beautiful woman”. I’m dorky and clumsy, I tell weird and bad jokes, I make strange voices and use sound effects when I talk, I reference science fiction all the time, I think in abnormal tangents, believe in outlandish ideas, I say creepy things, I make people uncomfortable, and I don’t have an interest in things everyone else thinks of as “normal”.
So, that’s why I wish I’d just die already. I’m tired of existing with the knowledge that I’m an outlier that will likely never find a corresponding outlier who can understand me. I’m tired of having no support system, trying to do everything on my own, and trying to keep myself out of despair with nobody to talk to or lean on. I’m tired of working so hard to be true to myself, yet constantly receiving feedback from others who tell me my thoughts and feelings are flawed. I’m tired of being reminded that my body is worth something, but my mind is not.
Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill myself. I won’t kill myself, and don’t intend to, because I have children. They are the only reason I persist, and everybody knows this already. Besides, even if I did kill myself, everyone would just be like, “That is so selfish of her, why couldn’t she think of anyone else for once!” Humorously, that “normal” reaction is actually the complete opposite of what would be my singular justification for death – I am always concerned about others and every single, “I wish I didn’t exist…” thought is immediately followed by, “Because everyone would be better off without me in their lives.”
But, I can’t and won’t take that way out. I have to wait until it comes naturally. That thought is rather disappointing to me, honestly. Ideally, I’ll suddenly contract a fatal disease that gives me time to say goodbye to my children and gives them time to get used to the idea that I’ll be gone. I started crying, thinking of that – thinking of them crying for me. So, that’s why I don’t intentionally die. It would cause them too much pain.
It’s strange, though – when I think of myself as an incohesive piece of energy after death, I also imagine myself trying to get back to them because I think I’d miss them.
Another strange thing is that I feel that even though I wish I could leave, they were born so that I couldn’t leave. I already know I would have given up a long time ago if they were never born. As much as I regret being the person I was, as much as I regret marrying their father, as much as I regret living a lie for so long, I do not regret becoming their mother.
That’s the real reason I’m always trying to find new ways to cope and different ways to feel content in my life… I know I need to stay for them, so I’m trying to make my life at least passably pleasant.
It’s sadly hilarious that I can’t do any of the things normal people do to escape their pain: Depression and anxiety medications do not work on me (except by causing severe side effects), I don’t feel euphoria from religion, I don’t get drunk from alcohol, I don’t feel pleasure from casual sex, I am too responsible to become a drug addict, and it would kill me (I think I really would kill myself after I couldn’t take it anymore) to become a fake person again.
I am so tired. I just keep thinking I need to be held and comforted by someone who makes me feel safe, secure, and unconditionally loved. Thinking about it, I realize the only thing I even need is to have a person in my life who looks at me and sees my heart, a person who accepts me as I am despite my mind. This is the one thing I have never had and most likely will never have. I feel acutely pained thinking of this; it breaks my heart.
I keep trudging on, day to day, because that’s all that I can do. I’m making it through today, I guess. If I could pray with conviction, I’d pray or beg for tomorrow to be just a little easier.