Lately I feel like my mind (usually a brilliant one) isn’t working well at all due to depression. My brain is constipated and my thoughts right now are like hard little turds that hurt to pass.
And I feel that yawning emptiness inside. It’s horrible.
I think I’m experiencing what James Masterson calls “abandonment depression”–severe depression that happens with loss of supply and/or triggered childhood memories in people with BPD/NPD.
It was partly triggered by roommate leaving, living alone for the first time ever, and endless worries about work/money/car/the bleakness of my future. Memories of my childhood and how BOTH my parents ultimately rejected me.
I’m not even finding blogging exciting anymore and have to force myself to write. I just feel dead inside. This could also have been triggered by attempting self therapy, which I’m realizing isn’t something a Cluster B should take on by themselves. I think I might have dove too deep into the void and am stuck there with no idea how to escape or what I should do.
I wouldn’t wish this kind of depression on my worst enemy. I need a miracle right now, even to find an appropriate therapist and somehow have the ability to take the time off work to see one. It’s tough with no running car, no savings, and no prospects.
My parents did this to me. Yeah, I’m blaming them. My dad too. I always tried to defend him before but the truth is, he’s just as bad as my mom, in some ways worse.
Okay, I’m going to just say it. I just wish they’d die already. I know that’s a horrible thing to say but people as lacking in empathy and love as they are always live for fucking-ever. I’m afraid to write the truth about them because they stalk me online and read my blogs. 😦 I can’t move past this depression and do any real work until I can be honest about them online. And I’m just too afraid.
I feel like there’s a very thin line between my mental state right now and straight up insanity. I’m holding on by a thread, constantly stressed, on edge all the time, no joy in my life, no love. People have noticed how on edge I seem. I can’t think, I can barely write, I can’t do anything. I am not suicidal but just want someone to take care of me. Someone to care. I want someone to love me and take responsibility for me. I’m tired of the grind of trying to survive in such a hostile world. I’m tired of being responsible. No one has ever cared about me, not really. I could never really care about myself because no one ever mirrored me the way I should have been and I don’t feel like I’m a real person. It’s probably too late to change. I’ve always had to take care of myself and everyone else too. And then always get shit on when I do. But even taking care of myself is just too fucking hard. I’m tired and I’m getting old.
I wish I could check myself into a top notch mental facility for a few months, rest and get therapy and be stabilized, and not have to worry about losing my home and having nothing to come back to. I never had a real home. I have no roots. I don’t feel like I have many–or any–options for self improvement.
I’m seriously fucked up mentally. I feel like there’s no way I can ever access my true self, no way I can ever be a happy person, no way I will ever be able to connect with anyone or feel close to anyone ever again, and I will always be impoverished and alone until the day I die.
I even fear my own kids abandoning me. Everyone else has. Right now I feel like I’ll always be alone and eventually forgotten completely as I look back on my stupid wasted life that was cursed from the day I was born by my narc parents who turned me into one of them–only a less successful, more covert version who is too terrified to be grandiose and arrogant like they are. At least I have self awareness, but what good is that when I can’t move forward or get any better?
The did this to me. And blame me for having been such a disappointment to them. But they TRAINED me to be this way, to be a massive fuckup, always a goddamn victim.
Of course, they’ll blame me, as always, for being too sensitive, for putting them on a guilt trip, for having been a burden to them.
I bet if I died, they would still blame me. “What a shame she never could get it together, how sad she was always so negative” (said in a fake, “concerned” voice that’s really meant to gaslight me, even after their death). “She just always made terrible choices.” They’d take no responsibility for the damage they caused; they never have. They never gave me the tools to be a happy, successful person, and never mirrored me as a child. Then threw me out when I was 17. Refused to even pay for my college.
To them, the way my life turned out is all my own fault. Blame the victim, that’s their philosophy, and our narcissistic society agrees with them. They were ahead of the times, because even when victim blaming wasn’t fashionable, they still did it. They believe once you turn 18, you’re 100% responsible for yourself. You should never be needy, never ask for help.
They tell me they love me (bullshit! no one disowns their own adult child if there’s any love there), but then they turn around and tell the extended family I’m a loser and a fuckup who will never amount to anything. They’ve given up on me. They’ve turned everyone against me. There is no one in the family I am in contact with, not that I was ever close to anyone in my joke of a family anyway.
I don’t hate them; I’m indifferent. When they do die, I don’t think I’ll even cry. I don’t think I’ll feel much of anything at all, except maybe regret and sadness that things turned out the way they did and they were incapable of loving or knowing what the hell to do with such a sensitive child.
They just couldn’t handle that. I know it’s nothing personal and they couldn’t help it; it’s because of their own narcissism and the way they were raised, but that doesn’t make my situation any less painful and depressing.
I just feel like there’s no hope for me.
Sorry, but I had to vent.