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Entry tags:
cyclical grief
The sad thing is I have more days where I wish I was dead than days where I don't.
It's not mania, it's not suicidal inclination or something I'll act upon, it's just wishing it was over and wanting to stop - wanting it to have stopped a long time ago instead of my body not having the basic decency to die. It's not going to get better. It's not ever going to get better, in fact it'll just get worse. I can barely eat anything and the NHS doesn't care. I can't leave the house and the NHS doesn't care. I can't see real humans, I can't move around, I spend the majority of my life in bed. I desperately hold up my outlaw and assassin shaped distractions and for a while it works. And then I blink and another four months have passed.
It's just so- alarming, to live your life in survival mode. To always be in fog. To desperately want to live but you won't get to. I tried so fucking hard to get out of the hole I was in in my late teens and early twenties and I fucking succeeded. It got better. I was getting better. I know it's possible, and that's why it hurts that this won't ever be. It was not sunshine and rainbows but it wasn't the hell I'd crawled out of.
And now I'm more stuck than ever. It requires so much mental fortitude and I don't know. I am never going to get better and there are children who are eight years old who were not alive when I got sick. When we hit ten years I think I am just going to cry for a week. How can the world fucking do this? How is it sane to forget about so many millions of people who got erased from life? My dad talks to me about his recovery and it's so unreal. When I have the emotions to spare it's frustrating. Yeah my brain forgot the Reaper hasn't ulted mid-match because it saw the animation and used that visual as a cheatsheat to say "yep, he just did it he can't again" and I fuck up and I can pinpoint the ME delirium as the reason why. Yeah I can run this dungeon but I can't see objects or shapes properly and it's too difficult to process so my brain just gives up and has me run blindly at a wall for ten seconds because it can't figure it out. Yeah I can write but only if I follow these arbitrary invented rules and not veer or I'll give myself PEM. It shouldn't be like this! I know the obstacle and it's my broken, half-dead body and hole-filled brain! I just want to be able to fucking do shit! I'm mourning who I was and mourning the present and the past and the future and I'm mourning. I'm mourning and carrying around a ghost and that ghost is me. Suffering shouldn't be constant. That isn't life. How do you make something from this when you never get any closure because it never ends?
I am losing so much time I am never going to get back.
It's not mania, it's not suicidal inclination or something I'll act upon, it's just wishing it was over and wanting to stop - wanting it to have stopped a long time ago instead of my body not having the basic decency to die. It's not going to get better. It's not ever going to get better, in fact it'll just get worse. I can barely eat anything and the NHS doesn't care. I can't leave the house and the NHS doesn't care. I can't see real humans, I can't move around, I spend the majority of my life in bed. I desperately hold up my outlaw and assassin shaped distractions and for a while it works. And then I blink and another four months have passed.
It's just so- alarming, to live your life in survival mode. To always be in fog. To desperately want to live but you won't get to. I tried so fucking hard to get out of the hole I was in in my late teens and early twenties and I fucking succeeded. It got better. I was getting better. I know it's possible, and that's why it hurts that this won't ever be. It was not sunshine and rainbows but it wasn't the hell I'd crawled out of.
And now I'm more stuck than ever. It requires so much mental fortitude and I don't know. I am never going to get better and there are children who are eight years old who were not alive when I got sick. When we hit ten years I think I am just going to cry for a week. How can the world fucking do this? How is it sane to forget about so many millions of people who got erased from life? My dad talks to me about his recovery and it's so unreal. When I have the emotions to spare it's frustrating. Yeah my brain forgot the Reaper hasn't ulted mid-match because it saw the animation and used that visual as a cheatsheat to say "yep, he just did it he can't again" and I fuck up and I can pinpoint the ME delirium as the reason why. Yeah I can run this dungeon but I can't see objects or shapes properly and it's too difficult to process so my brain just gives up and has me run blindly at a wall for ten seconds because it can't figure it out. Yeah I can write but only if I follow these arbitrary invented rules and not veer or I'll give myself PEM. It shouldn't be like this! I know the obstacle and it's my broken, half-dead body and hole-filled brain! I just want to be able to fucking do shit! I'm mourning who I was and mourning the present and the past and the future and I'm mourning. I'm mourning and carrying around a ghost and that ghost is me. Suffering shouldn't be constant. That isn't life. How do you make something from this when you never get any closure because it never ends?
I am losing so much time I am never going to get back.