I just feel so frustrated or upset all the time.
I was frustrated at my doctors appointment. I feel like I couldn’t say what was on my mind. As soon as I would start, she would come up with some explanation along the lines of ‘it’s expected’ or ‘not anything new’.
When I feel like she isn’t listening to me, I just get upset. I don’t feel anything from the Zoloft at all. I haven’t since I’ve started it. Now my depression is worsening and I don’t know what to do.
Then, I always hope when I come home, my dad will sit down with me and have an intervention. He never brings it up though. He will on the phone, but never in person. I’ll even try to coax something out of him like talking about my last doctors appointment. He doesn’t even look at me when I talk about it and when he does comment on it, he says I’m over reacting and to just let the doctor do what she thinks is best.
My friends are totally lost on this subject. Either a few of them are going through the same thing so it does little good for us to go to each other and talk about what’s bothering us or they simply don’t know what to do so they do nothing. Sometimes, they joke and say things like ‘I think about killing myself too because blah blah blah… let’s do it together!’ or ‘I’m here and you wouldn’t want to leave me ever, so you wouldn’t kill yourself.’
Well, I think I’ve gotten past the suicide stage. I don’t know. I don’t feel like I’ve lost my will to live necessarily, but I just feel like the life I have here isn’t worth living anymore. I want to get out, pack my shit and just go.
There’s several reasons why I don’t though.
A major one being the fact that I am without a car. I don’t have a means of taking a car and going where I want. I could save up to buy my own, but that would take a long time and then there would have to be extra money for repairs and insurance and other things.
Then I think about what I would do as a job.
I wouldn’t go back to school. At least not for a while. Maybe I’d go to a community college and get an Associates Degree and then work at a bank or something like that. There I would get health insurance and benefits of some kind. I thought about being a waitress since I’m familiar with it and I loved it and I’d make good money, but the benefits suck at most places or there aren’t any.
I feel so trapped by life and by the boundaries our society puts out there. I’m expected to graduate from a university, at some point in my life attend graduate school, get married, have kids, send them off to college, work until I’m old and grey and ready to retire, then die peacefully at home with my family.
Then why is this “American Dream” so hard for me to complete?
My life in college really isn’t that much time in the long run. It just feels like it doesn’t end and I can’t see the end of the tunnel.
Besides, I’ve never thought I would live out until I’m old and grey.
Since my mom died at a young age of breast cancer, I’ve always kind of expected that I would be the one between my sister and I to have the same happen to me. It isn’t necessarily that either my sister or I will have it, but I’ve always hoped it was me instead of her.
She’s the smart one. She’s the one that’s always had her life figured out. She’s never had problems or at least been public about them. She’s compassionate. She’s patient. Sure, she and my dad got in fights when she was younger, but she’s never openly had problems with him and our stepmom.
I’m the problem child. I was the one who threw temper tantrums when I didn’t get my way. I fought with my dad constantly. I’m the one who has to see the doctor for mental issues. I’m not that smart. I don’t know what I want. I’m constantly frustrated, upset, or angry. I party. I smoke. I drink. I have sex. I’ve been having sex since high school. I’m bad. It’s not a plea for attention. It’s not a cry for help. It’s a coping mechanism since no one else knows what to do with me.
I don’t know what to do with myself. Should I keep with the grind? Should I leave?
My dreams are strange. Sometimes they’re funny, I’ve been remembering them since the Zoloft. They’re very vivid, but at least I’m not dreaming of people getting killed like I was on Prozac. Now, I’m questioning my sanity. Each dream get weirder and weirder and I’m not sure where my mind is going.
Dreams are such fickle things. Maybe I should get a new dreamcatcher.
For now, my dreams consist of moving on and the relief I get from cutting. My life is pathetic.