“Madness is not what it seems. Time stops. All my life I've been obsessed with time, its motion and velocity, the way it works you over, the way it rushes you onward, a pebble turning in a brook. I've always been obsessed with where I'd go, and what I'd do, and how I would live. I've always harbored a desperate hope that I would make something of myself. Not then. Time stopped seeming so much like the thing that would transform me into something worthwhile and began to be inseparable from death. I spent my time merely waiting.”
― Marya Hornbacher
This is my last blog post, at least that is my intention anyway. Who really knows though? Something may change, highly doubtful, but it may. People tell me it will.
There are a few reasons for this, but the prominent reason is - I don't really have anything left to say. It's that simple really. I've said/written everything, you have read it all and now I don't have anything left to give you. That carries a far greater meaning than just in regards to my blogging, but that's another story not worth telling or wasting your time with.
I've come to a few conclusions you see, after hours, days and months filled with constant thinking. I do believe I may actually have about a hundred different thoughts for every breath I take, which makes it increasingly difficult to get anything done, including typing this. But these conclusions I've reached have taken a very long time, apologies for that, thoughts are distracting and sometimes hard to connect, but I got there. I hope.
Firstly, I think it's for the best if I stop blogging, posting, tweeting, updating my status, because these things are just a reflection of my own problems - I don't need the reminders anymore. I also think it's very unkind of me to project onto other people, who have done absolutely nothing to deserve putting up with a mad person. I apologise for all those things, but needless to say you won't be bothered again. Which leads to the second conclusion.
I don't see any reason to share anymore. I have nothing to give, or to say that hasn't been said and done before - no one likes repeats. This is for myself, but mostly for other people once again. For me, sharing or putting myself out there, has put me in the vulnerable position - open for criticism, mocking and being completely misunderstood (like relationships/attachments really). I don't want to be in that position. I don't need the criticism, or the 'tough love' words, or even the emotional blackmail. But I also don't want friends to be in the position where they feel the need to repeat themselves (like I said, people hate repetition) or to worry. That's unkind of me and believe me, I feel guilty for making people do that or feel that way. It shouldn't be like that, so it won't be.
The last conclusion is an odd one, because I'm not sure of it myself. It's more of a musing or incomplete thought, but I'll try and get it across to you as best as I can. I've spent a lot of time thinking about what it is that's made me manic, erratic, 'ill' (as my family prefer), but I've also spent a lot of time thinking about the people I know. To be more precise, I've tried hard to make connections, to see how all my thoughts, words, actions and the people I know are connected - how they affect me.
I can only conclude that some people I know have indirectly or directly offended, hurt and blamed me in certain ways and not particularly cared. I don't like saying that, I like to give people the benefit of the doubt, but that's undeniable. They have, quite often actually. I also think that perhaps I subconsciously allow people's bad days to ruin my day, through trying to empathise with them or by trying to solve their problems and failing to do so. That tends to make me feel like shit, worthless really. Again, that won't be a problem if I keep to myself and avoid such external factors.
Another idea I had was that people lie. I really loathe lying, liars tends to make me angry, they're inconsistent. Now some people lie directly to your face, some people do it because they just don't want to reveal a truth (for whatever reason) or worse, some people lie in an attempt to 'protect' you, because you apparently cannot handle the truth. The combination of these three has struck me - I don't like any of the reasons, just don't lie to me. Another reason to avoid interactions, no one can lie to you then. But there's also a different type of liar, the less intentional. Those who tell you something that they believe to be true, but the thought is actually false.
It's hard to determine truth from fiction at times, I completely understand that, but it's messing with me. What should I believe? Who can I believe? Why are all these things I'm hearing conflicting with each other? The worst question though is 'Who is more likely to be telling me the truth?' That's hard. I feel like I'm placing someone's opinion or value above someone else's, as if they mean more to me. I don't like it, it makes me uncomfortable. But by believing everyone is equally truthful, I've only been caused pain and have become quite mistrustful/fearful of every single person. I've had to acknowledge the fact that some people's opinions are distorted (I know mine are), for various reasons, and that there a few people who I should never doubt for a second. Why? I have no reason to. Everyone else? Plenty of reasons.
Even these conclusions don't really bring me much joy. Thoughts don't really stop, but they lessen if I have limited interactions with others. I'm terrified of being asked questions I don't have the answer to. I don't want a friend having to say the same thing over again and not being able to understand them, because my mind is too jumbled and exhausted - I wouldn't be able to concentrate. But also, if someone has to constantly reassure you you're fine, you know you're a failure. It means I've failed to progress, to change anything despite efforts to do so and it seems as though I'm the deadweight. I know, I feel guilty for that too. I'm sorry.
The last physical conversation I had with a person was this weekend. It wasn't under pleasant circumstances and is another reason for me to avoid these interactions - I'm not cut out for them.
The conversation went something along these lines:
Q. "Do you think your depression has gotten worse?"
A. "No."
Q. "Why not?"
A. "Can't get any worse and I'm too tired to be depressed."
Q. "Do you think you have an eating disorder?"
A. "No."
Q. "Why not?"
A. "I'm too tired to have one."
Q. "Do you still want to die?"
A. "I'm too tired, I'll wait."
I could only think of one question to ask him, "will it always be like this?" I didn't wait for the response, I tuned out after "Yes, if…" - that wasn't the answer I was hoping for. Perhaps I should have rephrased the question to get the answer I actually needed to know - "Was I always like this?" or "What did I do to be like this?" That's what I should have asked, but given the circumstances of our meeting, I doubt he would have known. He couldn't have, he only knew the parts of me I gave to him (like I'm giving to you), nothing more, nothing less. Impossible questions really. I know me and I don't know the answers. I'm out of answers these days, it's just endless questions I have.
But to clarify, he was wrong, or rather - he asked the wrong questions. Maybe I should have been more lenient and forgiving, but unless it's direct, I'll play dumb. The eating disorder - no. It was never about eating, it was never the idea that thinness made me more attractive, it was for the exact same reason I ask questions actually. Control and avoidance. Not eating, weight - that's self-control. That's completely mine, it's not something I have to share or that can be meddled with by anyone else, despite their efforts. It's mine to manipulate and to completely control. Like questions and conversations in general. I long ago approached conversations this way - it's giving and taking. If you don't want to give yourself away, the best thing to do is to talk. Talk a lot. If you talk a lot, you're controlling what's being said, more importantly, what's not being said and you can almost predict the direction of the conversation. The more you talk, the less you say - that's it.
I've been mistaken as being talkative for utilising this tactic, but that's wrong. I'm shy and also a person who avoids everything. Unless I'm comfortable with a person, I'm sorry, but I'll do the talking. Anything to avoid being asked tricky questions, to freeze up and be focused upon. Conversations should always be about the other person. I don't like me, let's not talk about me. Just ask questions and then wait. Which is what I do best.
It's exactly like Hornbacher wrote, I spend my time waiting now. It's all I do actually. I'm not waiting for Godot (thank God), I'm not waiting for some miraculous positive force to engulf me or for anything to change, I'm just waiting around to waste time. I call it the wasting game, that is exactly what it is. Mentally wasting, physically wasting, time wasting, wasting my life - wasting, wasting, wasting. And then it's over with. Time isn't endless, it runs out eventually. It tends to drag on when you're alone or constantly looking at the clock to see how much time you've spent waiting, but it's what I can do. It's all I can do.
I don't think apathetic or tired are the right adjectives for me anymore. Defeated is more fitting. I'm guessing anyway, I've never described myself as such before. That's changed. So have a lot of things, like these blog posts and my ridiculous complaints. I'm sorry, this is the last of them.
