by Noise Pollution
There is a vicious cycle that my life is based around. I am doing what I can to escape it, but it’s more difficult than I could have imagined.
I lack self-motivation. I do not do things for myself. The only time I can accomplish tasks is when there is some sort of outside pressure asking me to complete them. Otherwise, I can barely even get out of bed. This is one part depression, one part my environment, and another part made of my own inadequacy. I mean, there are things that I want, and I want them so badly, but no amount of desire is enough to get me to push myself.
And so, I always end up stuck. Before I moved to New Jersey, I was stuck working somewhere I hated, and I was in an unsatisfying relationship, and I did nothing to try to get myself out of either of those situations. Now, I’m stuck at home, needing to get out and have fresh experiences, but I’m still inside.
This behavior is really unhealthy, and I know that if I just tried a little harder, I’d be able to fix it. The thing is, the knowing doesn’t make the doing come any easier. In fact, knowing that the place I’m at in life is entirely my own fault and easily fixed actually makes things harder. Because I know I could be doing better. I should be doing better. It is completely within my power to do better. But I don’t. And then I hate myself for it. I hate myself because I hate the situation I’m in, and I’m doing nothing to get out of it. I hate myself because I’m not doing the things I could do, and should do.
When I hate myself, it becomes even more difficult to pull myself out of bed. I do even less. I stop even taking care of myself. The more I hate myself, the less I do, and the less I do, the more I hate myself. I bring myself down to a breaking point, where everyone around me can see how little I am functioning. The last time I hit this breaking point, I wound up in the hospital for seven days. The time before that, I wound up in jail for a night. This behavior isn’t okay.
But I can’t fucking stop. I feel like my life is quicksand, slowly pulling me under until I can’t breathe anymore. Eventually, someone pulls me up, only to let go at the last second. Then I start sinking again. There’s no way out of it completely.
I’m trying to do better, I really am. I’ve put in job applications, and applied to start going to school again. I’ve been doing projects around the house. I’m trying to force it. I’m trying to force myself up out of the quicksand. I don’t think it’s working, though. I feel like I’m under the surface already, but nobody can see it now.
And I know what you’re going to say. I just need to try harder. I can do it, even if I think I can’t.
I know. I know I know I know I KNOW I KNOW. God dammit. I KNOW I just need to try harder. God, if that was all it took, just a little effort, I wouldn’t be here right now, complaining about it. There wouldn’t be scads of other people all in a similar situation right now.
I’m doing the best that I can. I really am, I swear. I’m sick of being told that I’m not trying hard enough, because I AM. When someone is doing their best, and you tell them they need to try harder, you’re only telling them that they aren’t good enough. And I know. I know I’m not good enough. I hear it hidden in the words of everyone I know, and I hear it from myself every second of every day. I don’t need anyone else to tell me I’m not good enough.
This has really devolved into a self-pity-party. Sorry about that. If I wasn’t so committed to posting every little thought that I write out, I wouldn’t put this up at all. It’s pretty fucking sad, and wouldn’t make it past my brain-to-mouth filter if I tried to say it out loud. So here is some raw, unfiltered me. I’m pretty pathetic, aren’t I?