It's a GAD GAD World
Saturday, January 19, 2008
I did something brave last weekend. Or at least, I thought it was brave, sice it took me 3 goddamn years and a hell of a lot of nerve to do it. But maybe it was just stupid.

When I got tossed out on my rear from Prestigious Institution, there were a handful of people who were shocked by my fate and felt that I had been royally screwed. Some of these people even offered to be references for me.

Last weekend I sent an email to all of these people thanking them for their support. I explained that it had taken a very long time for me to get over the stress and anxiety of what had transpired while I was there (which is a big lie, seeing as how I'm still not over it), that I appreciated what they had done for me, informing them that I had another job, and that if there was anything I could ever do for them not to hesitate to ask. It was succinct and eloquent, if I do say so myself. (If nothing else, I AM a damn good writer.)

Y'know how many of those people bothered to acknowledge my email? Not one. Zip. Zero. Nada. Not even a quick "glad to hear you're doing well, take care" reply. Not that I really expected anyone to rush over to me with open arms & offer to take me out to lunch or anything like that, but I figured I'd at least get a response. From SOMEBODY.

And now, if any of you needed any proof that depression really is a MENTAL illness that can really fuck up your thought process, get a load of this. I have a friend who has cancer. As I type this she is lying in a hospital bed crossing her fingers and hoping that her bone marrow transplant was a success. And here I am wishing I could trade places with her.

Yes, you read right. I want to switch lives with a cancer patient. Number one, I wish I had a legitimate reason to lie in bed all day. Number two, this person is a gifted writer (better than me, she's actually been published multiple times over) with an amazing support network behind her. She has like, an army of people who have rallied behind her in her time of need. I can't even think of 5 people who would visit me in the hospital if something like that happened to me. This person has a rich and fulfilling life that may be cut short, and my life is worthless.

Memo to God: Not that I have any frigging right to tell you how to run the universe or anything, but if you're going to give someone cancer and maybe have them die, why not take someone who's not contributing anything to the planet and is not going to be missed? Someone like me.

Every day I look in the mirror and I see the wrinkles that are starting to form on my face and the pounds that have tenaciously attached themselves to my body. And I know that I will never be beautiful or desired. Every day I go to my low-level job because I don't have the energy to do anything meaningful & I seethe over the things I could be doing there but am not allowed to because "clerical people don't do that". Every weekend I lie on the damn couch and do nothing because I don't have the energy to be productive. My life has no meaning. Life was wasted on me. Why not take the years I have left and give them to someone who desperately wants them and will put them to good use?

I wish I could donate years of my life the way people donate pints of blood.

If any of you are still reading beyond this point, you're probably disgusted with me. I don't blame you. I'm disgusted with myself for even thinking like this. Nevertheless, it is how I think.

Apparently there's this new part of the performance review process at my job where we have to be reviewed quarterly instead of yearly. My update is scheduled for Thursday. I'm wondering if I should ask my boss why I didn't get the $$ that was budgeted for my position.

I'm sorry, people. I know I'm a loser. You don't have to tell me, OK? I already know. This is why I want to donate my life to someone who needs it more than I do.

Hello again.
You're not a waste of time you're an anonymous reflection of myself sometimes. You're a refreshingly honest stranger. More honest than any of the people I know in real life. Why can't people be this real when they're close enough to reach out and touch each other if they wanted to? I first found your blog by googling GAD and never would have thought I would have found a 'text based person' who GETS IT. If you were in hospital I would at least send you a card.... Hope that helps... oh, and today it was the first nice sunny summer day here for weeks and I lay inside and watched tv all day. Hope that helps too.... Anne
It's the same for me. Nobody. And the same thoughts when I see people visiting others who are ill.

I think that the origing of GAD and depression is emotional and social. Somehow we are always losers. Most of all, we feel like suffers and suffer for it a lot. And that horrible feeling of despair, of failure, impotence, etc, makes us sick, depressed, hysterical and finally unberable for the others who simply run away.

When I read your posts I recognize myself in them and understand why nobody wants me near. I wouldn't be near you either. That's why I am so lonely. Chicken and egg. But I prefer this loneliness and sickness to the extremely painful reality, facing day after day that I am ugly or boring or impopular, etc. It's too painful to live and see that others have what you want but you can't do anything about it and, if yoiu try, the harder you fall AGAIN and AGAIN and AGAIN, so that you prefer either die or be sick as a dog to avoid those confrontations with your reality and who and what you are; someone below from what you wanted to be and have. Forever. Agonic.
Post a Comment

Powered by Blogger