When Compassion Doesn’t Matter

The first thing that someone says when they find out someone they care about is suicidal is usually ‘I love you’. Here’s why that doesn’t matter. Before you freak out, hear me out.Let’s start

Let’s start by explaining why people are usually suicidal. Two words: Mental. Illness. It’s a rough thing to go through, and as someone with my fair share of mental illnesses, it’s not something I’d wish on my worst enemy.

The worst part? None of it is curable. As of now, it doesn’t look like it will in my lifetime, even if I live to be 100. There are medications you can take to ease the mental and emotional pain of it, but nothing to make it go away forever.

That’s why compassion doesn’t matter. Yes, it’s nice to feel cared about, and yes, feeling like someone will be there for me is comforting at times. However, that doesn’t help me any. It won’t make the pain go away. It won’t cure me. All the love and compassion in the world can’t help me. Ever. I’m basically screwed because of that. I’ve got plenty of friends, but guess what? None of them will ever make me better. I’m stuck like this for the rest of my life. And that hurts. A lot.

So, in the case of my suicidal tendencies, compassion really doesn’t matter much to me. I wish it did. I really do. Because if it did, then I’d be a lot better off. Maybe someday I’ll mature and learn to take it. But for now, I don’t. Sorry.

Ugh.

I’m having a very bad day. No, a very bad WEEK. I haven’t had a single day in God only knows how long without having a meltdown, getting into an argument, or both. I THOUGHT that starting my optimism journal would help. It hasn’t.

How much do I hate myself? Let me count the ways.

  1. I’m too dependent/clingy. If I can’t talk to someone I enjoy talking to for a certain amount of time, I get so upset that I just lash out at everyone.
  2. I can’t seem to keep a relationship going because nobody can handle me. Everything else on this list has played a role in that.
  3. I’m too sensitive. Last night I went to small group and was talking too loud, so someone there told me to lower my voice. I almost started crying. This isn’t the first time either–I missed out on a sermon a couple weeks ago because someone told me to stop using my phone so I ran out in tears.
  4. I have a short fuse. I get very angry very easily, especially when I’m already sensitive.
  5. I get really irrational really easily. This one is odd. I guess I’ll just chalk it up to my disorders
  6. I don’t know when to quit. I have issues with this in every area of my life. I can’t take social cues so I’ll just keep jabbering until someone finds a subtle way of getting out of the conversation. I have portion control issues and will eat an entire cake or an entire full-size bag of chips in a day if nobody stops me. I’m a ‘give an inch take a mile’ kind of person.

I’m sure there’s more.

Where is my place in this world?

RE-POST of an entry on my main blog from 7/23/14.

I can’t deal with this anymore. I’m too sensitive. Too irritable. I don’t think I belong anywhere. I sure don’t feel like I do. The only people who can really handle me have either never met me, or have spent minimal time with me. It’s easy for my online friends to say ‘You’re great, I don’t know why people don’t want to talk to you.’ Of course you don’t know; you aren’t around me 24/7, or very close to it.

My parents kicked me out and my Grandma acts like they’re giving her a hand-me-down they don’t want and she’s insulted that she’s been burdened with me. She’s still attempting to brainwash me into thinking my parents hate me and kicked me out cuz they didn’t want me. She irritates me, but I’m starting to feel like she’s right. They not only ‘evicted’ ME, the next few weeks involved slowly moving all of my stuff here, so now 99% of my things are here and my old bedroom is now a craft room for my mom. I haven’t been in my old room in awhile, but I think there are some loose articles of clothing on the closet floor and maybe a few books on the bookshelves. That’s pretty much all that’s left of me there. Can’t say I blame them though. But no matter how many times I tell them, they can’t seem to realize that they have an advantage–THEY can actually get away from me. I’m stuck. I can never get away from me, and I know more of me than they do. Every memory, every regret, every broken promise, everything. Other than God, I’m the only person who knows everything about me, and I have to live with that every single day for the rest of my life, which is going to accumulate MORE burdensome memories I have to carry.

I really don’t feel wanted anywhere. I don’t even feel like people want to be my friend irl. As in, it’s easy to chat online without a face-to-face conversation. It’s easier to ignore someone online. If they approach you and talk to you, it’s very hard to break away without lying or being bailed out by someone. Being told that nobody really likes having f2f conversations with me was very hurtful. I’m not sure how true it is (I highly doubt 100%), but I’m guessing it’s more true than not, though it doesn’t really matter how true or not true it is. I still feel self-conscious every time I talk to someone new. I feel like I’m keeping them from something. Ever since my realization about the couple that lied to get me to go away without hurting my feelings, I haven’t spoken to either of them. I don’t see a point. It’s obvious they don’t want to talk to me, so I don’t approach either of them.

As for online friendships…I pretty much don’t form a close connection with anyone anymore. I can’t deal with losing anyone else. I don’t take it well. I feel like a bridge is burned every time someone unfriends me on Facebook. I know it’s an extreme reaction, and I don’t know why I react that way. It’s possibly why I’m always scared to get into arguments with friends. I’m afraid that they’ll ditch me or cut off contact because I angered them so much. I recently got into a fight with a friend. Two fights, actually. The first one, she forgave me for a few days later and we started talking again. The next one…if I had more tact and common sense, it wouldn’t have gone that far. The first time, she was mad that all I ever did was vent to her and I never listened to her side, or have a 2-way conversation about something. The second time, I was very upset about something and nothing she said could calm me down so she went off on me. She said that I once told her (I don’t remember this at all, but my memory sucks) that all she is to me is a ‘warm body’, someone to vent to. She wouldn’t believe me when I said I didn’t mean it. I don’t even remember SAYING it. But she refused to listen, so I just apologized and I’ve only talked to her once since then, when sending her a cute video on YouTube. Normally I would’ve waited a week or so, then picked up conversation, but since we’d already had a falling-out once, and this had been so soon after, I just let it go. I spent the first half hour to an hour after the second argument checking every few minutes, terrified she’d unfriended me (she didn’t).

I can’t talk about past events or memories in front of certain people because it just gets me a mini Riot-Act every time it comes up. I’m told to stop living in the past, stop holding grudges, move on, yada yada.  I need to be happier. Happiness is a choice. Any and all emotions are a choice. If I’m upset, it’s my choice. It’s like everyone’s telling me how to feel. That’s not right. You can’t tell me how to feel because you aren’t me. You’re not wired the same way I am. You don’t have the same memories. The same thoughts. My actions and reactions. Until you know me 100%–every fiber of my being–you can’t tell me how I should feel. I don’t even know how I should feel. Some days I just shut down and don’t feel ANYTHING. You can probably slap me across the face and say you hate me and emotionally, I won’t feel anything. I don’t understand it, and I’m done trying, so stop straining yourself to figure it out.

When hypocrisy hurts

It hurts enough that I have to live with everything I’ve ever done wrong in my life never leaving my mind, because I’ll NEVER forget my regrets. But when people constantly bring it up and don’t let it go, that makes it worse. Then I’m expected to love myself for my accomplishments. How the HECK does that work?

For example, because I was obsessed with TV shows I watched as a middle schooler, Mom immediately assumed that my love for Doctor Who was an obsession when I changed my Facebook profile pic to Christopher Eccleston for the 50th anniversary. She even got pissed off at me when I bought a TARDIS Laplander and told me that I could only keep it if I never wore it to church. My brother was allowed to wear a very noticeable Captain America jacket every single week from Christmas to whenever the weather got too warm to wear it. There isn’t any difference between them, other than the fact that I can put my hat into my purse when I get there and not pull it out again. But if I were to point that out, it would just cause a scene.

I also get in trouble for bringing things up that happened in the past. I’m told that I’m holding a grudge and I need to let go of it. Maybe I am, but I wanna know what it’s called when THEY do it. Grandma once got mad at me for yelling at her for going into my room without permission the month before, but not 10 minutes later she said I should ‘blend in’ with people and that she’s trying to protect me because I got picked on in school. For starters, that mostly stopped when I hit high school, and completely stopped by the time I graduated. At that point, I’d been out of middle school for 5 years and I graduated in 2013. That means that she’s been holding onto a RESOLVED issue for 5 years, but I’m not allowed to hold onto an UNRESOLVED issue for a month.

My mom’s like that too–a month or two ago, we were coming home from counseling and she randomly started talking about an issue I had in the summer of 2008. That was SIX YEARS AGO. And she just brought it up randomly. Awhile back, she texted me about something ELSE I’d done several years ago. I asked her to stop talking about it and she got mad at me for telling her that. She’ll also make assumptions about things that aren’t actually the case, but chide me if I do it. Once, I made a comment about gay men acting a certain way. She told me not to stereotype…then immediately followed with a stereotype. Literally the next words out of her mouth after not stereotyping was a stereotype.

The thing is, I can’t even tell them that it bothers me. Grandma doesn’t care enough to remember and my mom will remember, but if she does it again, she’ll make sure I know how bitter she is about me asking her to stop. But they can call me out on whatever they want and I can’t say a word about it.

It seems that my family’s favorite thing to do to me is gratuitously point out and even mock my flaws. My brother has been on a kick lately about making fun of me for always getting scared of things that I really didn’t need to be scared about. My mom gets mad if I get on her computer for even a minute or two to check something, because I’ve broken computers several times. She doesn’t care that it takes me several MONTHS of CONSTANT use to break them–the fastest I’ve ever seriously damaged one took 8 months. NOT 8 minutes, NOT 8 hours, NOT 8 days. EIGHT MONTHS. But nooo, she doesn’t care enough to consider that. And other than some small electronics (like headphones, cell phones, or MP3 players), I haven’t broken any others. I’ve never even broken my DS or my GBAs. In fact, it was my brother who broke his DS–mine had a small chip in the corner, but his has no working speakers (the headphone jack works fine though) and the mic won’t work. The fact that I’m very talkative has come up a lot. My mom once told me that nobody really likes me, they just tolerate me because they’re too polite to tell me to go away. I’m sure that’s not 100% true, but the damage was done, and now I can’t talk to anyone that I don’t know really well without feeling like I’m bothering them. I was actually ‘prepped’ on what to say or not say on my way to a good friend’s grad party this summer. I ended up just telling her and her brother hello, then sat at a table by myself and kept my mouth shut for the rest of our stay.

They also refuse to let me drive, because I didn’t do very well last year when they got me into driver’s ed–which is odd, because I don’t recall them ever letting me behind the wheel again after I finished it. I went down to the BMV back in August to get a new permit because I’d lost mine and needed to replace it. Even as we were leaving, Mom made it VERY clear that it was only going to be used as ID. Dad does whatever she tells him and Grandma refuses to let me. I’m sure if they took me out driving now, I wouldn’t do very well, because I haven’t done it in almost a year and a half. But I’ll bet that it wouldn’t matter–they’d still say I wasn’t good enough and never let me behind the wheel again.

I’ve been told from as early as 3rd or 4th grade that I’m the ‘common denominator’ in any arguments I had with classmates. If I had a fight with one kid on Monday, and a fight with a different kid on Tuesday, it was MY fault because I was the only kid involved in both arguments. Some days, it’s my fault for being a big mouth and not knowing when to shut up. Other days, it was needless bullying that wasn’t my fault. I don’t buy that for a second–not after all that time that was spent thinking I was the problem.

But I’m supposed to love myself anyway. I’m supposed to know what I’ve accomplished and appreciate it, even if they won’t. I’m supposed to believe that I’m an amazing person and am gonna go far in life, when most of the time I’m told that I’m lazy, and immature, and irresponsible, and not cut out for the real world.

At this point, it hurts. A lot. I’m expected to love myself, but how am I supposed to do that when it feels like all anyone does is point out everything wrong with me? I’m expected to let things go and leave the past where it belongs, but the majority of the time, I’m not the one who brings it up. But because I get upset or mention that it’s over with, I’m the bad guy. If I try to stand up for myself and make my own decisions, I get shot down. But I’m supposed to know I’ll be successful in life. I’m supposed to feel loved, and confident, and happy. I’m supposed to take pride in the very things they mock. I’m supposed to be proud of being friendly, yet I’m told on a regular basis that I’m too overbearing and need to talk less. I’m supposed to be proud of what I’ve written–but only if they like it too. I’ve never been one who doesn’t care what others think as it is, but when it’s my own flesh and blood who’ve said the horrible things I’ve been told, it’s even worse. You know that saying ‘If you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything”? Well, it DOES go both ways. Remember that.

I’m stuck and I hate it.

I NEED A LIFE. I need a REAL life, not just a once-or-twice-a-week-and-hide-behind-the-computer-the-rest-of-my-days life. I cannot deal with this. I don’t know what is wrong with me, but I am scared. I’m not normally like this. I can usually keep my temper in check. I don’t break down in tears over some stupid comment on the internet. I don’t go getting all ticked off on my mom because my grandma came into my room without my permission. If it were my decision I’d seriously consider getting a new shrink, but what would that accomplish? My current one refuses to send any medical record release forms to me, so I’d be without one otherwise. Not that it’s my decision anyway. I’m not the one driving.

My mom is so freaking controlling. And the ‘best’ (for her) part is, because I don’t live with her and I’m a legal adult, she doesn’t have to do anything for me. She has full right to refuse to take me to the doctor–and yet, she won’t even let me keep my insurance card. She gave me a COPY of it–she refuses to give me my actual card. Not that it matters–I can’t even afford the copay for a doctor’s visit. She refuses to drive me there, let alone pay, because she doesn’t think anything is wrong. I was a hypochondriac as a child and even now she doesn’t believe me when I’m sick—if she does, she attributes it to something else–anything else–to get out of taking me to the doctor. She won’t let me get a job because she doesn’t think I can handle it. Her argument? I got fired from my only job on my first day because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut about something. Shortly after, she had me start filing for disability. I was ultimately rejected (which I was relieved about, since it meant I could get a job now), but she made me appeal. She won’t take me driving anywhere, my dad won’t do anything she won’t, and Grandma refuses to. I’m stuck with a permit that I can’t use. I took driver’s ed, but my parents both thought I failed it (funny, considering that flunking me would basically be flunking someone who hadn’t been taught the material yet, and they weren’t there anyway), and now they won’t let me at all. It’s been over a year, so mission accomplished–I don’t remember a single thing I was taught during that course. I may be going into dangerous territory here, but I really think that she won’t let me drive because she wants to keep that control over me. I don’t even live with her anymore and she’s still holding that over me. I really do wanna find someone else to take me where I wanna go, but I would either have to lie (for example “It’s a nice day so I was wanting to walk to counseling today.”) or admit to why I found alternate transportation. When I do that with Grandma (explain to her why I don’t wanna go somewhere with her), she freaks out and starts yelling at me. I can’t deal with that.

I don’t know what I can do, but I need to do something. I cannot deal with this anymore. I’m getting upset over the most menial things (for example, this post was sparked by a rude comment on a forum post I made) and because that’s pretty much the internet in a nutshell, I need something else. But, that may not be a good idea. I get this desire to punch someone if they’re mean to me online. I don’t need the opportunity.

That may not even matter. People don’t like me. My parents couldn’t handle me so I had to leave. And they’d been putting up with me for 18 years at that point. Grandma doesn’t want me. She thinks I’m only here because my parents didn’t have anywhere else to send me, since my other grandparents live an hour away. If they don’t want me, who would? I don’t have anywhere to go. People will LIE to avoid even talking to me, let alone living with me. And I was raised in a house where you don’t go asking for charity. If I were to ask someone to let me stay with them, and they said yes, I’d have to tell my mom that I did. And I don’t wanna do that. They’d probably kick me out anyway. I’m like a ticking time bomb right now. I don’t know when i’m going to get upset and when I’m going to be overexcited. If I can’t tell, nobody can. And I can’t do anything about it.

I go see my shrink again in ‘a couple of weeks’ (according to Mom…it’s more like 4 or 5 weeks), and I can’t go anywhere else. Doctors visits cost money. The ER costs more. The prescriptions tell you when to call your doctor and I am way beyond that point, but I can’t do anything about it. It costs money to even get looked at, and I’d have to find a way to get there, and pay for any new prescriptions…I don’t know what I feel right now. This is worrisome, because normally I’m either in shutdown mode and feel nothing, or I’m feeling something very strongly and I usually know what it is. Of course, I’m also usually calm after writing it all down, or even just STARTING to write it all down—I rarely finish. I need to find a way to calm down.