Awesome Josh

Today’s been one of those days, either because I woke up like this or because of today’s events.  Either way, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and I’ve come to a few conclusions about myself that I didn’t really want to know.  Or, I’ve known them and I just didn’t really want to admit it to myself.  It’s kind of like when you have a serious problem, how you know you shouldn’t do it, but you can’t really seek help unless you admit that you have a problem; otherwise, you’ll end up right back where you started.

I don’t ever remember being a happy kid.  I don’t really think there was a catastrophic event in my life that made me unhappy, but more a whole bunch of events piled up and smashed together.  For some reason or another, I just felt like the world was out to get me.  I felt like people were hurting me on purpose and I felt like no one understood me.  But, they didn’t understand me.  How could they?  I never let them.  I don’t even think I understood myself.  The point is, is that I’ve suffered from depression for more than half my life.  I never understood why, and maybe I’m not meant to understand why, but because of this I’ve missed out on a lot of things.

I was always good at hiding the fact that I was depressed, and I still am.  Part of my cover is to act goofy, but don’t think that because I’m acting goofy that I’m depressed.  Looking back now, I wasn’t so good at hiding it, there were definitely signs, and maybe people just didn’t want to notice that there was something wrong with me and maybe they just didn’t know what to do.  I started therapy when I was 9;  one day I was called down to the school’s main office and was told that I had to go see the school therapist at my parent’s request.  I was pissed off at first, but all we would end up doing was play Jenga and talk about school.   That wasn’t so bad.

One day in 5th grade, I was so depressed and when I came home from school I locked myself in my room and cried.  I cried for hours.  I don’t remember what happened that made me cry, or why I was depressed, I just remember crying.  I cried so long that when I was done crying, I laid on my floor, curled up in a ball, still making the motions of crying.  I was so drained that I couldn’t even get up to walk.  I tried to kill myself that night.  I was 10.   If I remember correctly, I tried to hang myself using an extension cord.

Six or seven more attempts happened from that day till around the time I turned 18.  I always convinced myself that I never really wanted to kill myself and that after I had tried that I realized how stupid it was and would never do it again.  Now, don’t get freaked out, because I wouldn’t do it now, not ever, but back then, I really did want to kill myself.  I would have gone through with it, especially the last time, if someone hadn’t found me.  I don’t even remember who found me, but whoever you are, I want to thank you.

Well, because of all of this I thought that I was damaged and that no one would want me.  I never let people close enough; what if they saw how broken I was?  What if they knew my secrets?  What if they hurt me?  I was already hurting myself enough, I didn’t need more people in my life to hurt me.  When my parents stopped talking to me when I was in 7th grade, I blamed them.  I was pissed at them.  I hated them.  They didn’t know what to do with me, and I can see why.  If I were them, and their kid was acting the way that I was, I wouldn’t know what to do either.  But I sure as hell wouldn’t stop talking to them.  But I didn’t exactly give them a reason to talk to me.  I was a bastard.

With all of this…I’ve realized today that I’m emotionally closed off.  More than I thought I was.  I’ve hurt myself more than anyone in my entire life has.  I’ve denied myself happiness.  I’ve denied myself a life.  I’m so worried about other people hurting me that I’ve never stopped to think “what if I’m hurting myself?”  And the truth is that I have hurt myself.  Not just by trying to kill myself, but I’ve stopped living.  I gave up.  I gave up a long time ago.  I will have you know, that I may not be sobbing right now, but a few tears did fall onto my cheeks.  This is the most I’ve cried in awhile.

But now that I’ve realized how much hurt I’ve brought upon myself, how will I change?  Will I change?  Is there a point where a person is so broken and so damaged that they can never be fixed, or glued, or whole?  Or will I always be a selfish bastard?  I’m drowning in doubt right now and I don’t know if I can swim.  It’s suffocating, it’s painful, and at the same time, I don’t really care.  Because this is how I’ve always been, and sooner or later, this feeling will subside and I’ll go on pretending that it isn’t there.