Omniverse Venting Thread

[Trixie]

Disclaimer: This is going to get deep and possibly dark. 

I guess it's my turn to use this thread, because the thoughts dancing around in my head are louder than the soldier keeping them in check. I hate living my life. I am so tired of this constant back and forth between feeling amazing and feeling like I'm absolutely doing nothing with my life. I work for Apple, yes. Yes it's a great job. Yes I live in an apartment. Have my own car. Yeah, it could be a lot worse. I'm never going to be normal. I'm never going to not be a doormat that people walk all over and use. I am exhausted with being Joe. I honestly don't want to be Joe anymore; and not in the "well change who you are way." 

I approach every situation with an analytical point of view. I'm never on a single point. Ever. If you come to me and say you have a problem, before you even get finished explaining what the problem is I'm calculating what is going on, who might be involved, possible social nuances, and the plethora of ways to solve it. The main problem I have is that I can't do this for myself. Not even remotely. I've tried. It isn't something I'm capable of doing, at least not yet anyway. I literally lose 50 IQ points when it comes to my own happiness and managing it. However, if someone calls me up with a problem or an emergency, it's all hands on deck. I'm there 100% from every angle. We're going to get this done and if I don't know how I'll find out and learn how. It's how I work. It always has been the way I work. 

I convince myself on a daily basis that I am a horrible human being on every level. That I am this monster who deserves every horrible thing that happens to me. 

I honestly think I'm not worth living or dying for. I feel expendable all the time. Every. Second. Of. The. Day. That my death would cause maybe a weeks worth of pain and then I'd be replaced by someone else who isn't broken. Who isn't a bother or a burden on everyone. I honestly feel like every time I reach out for help or to vent that I'm just causing some sort of echo that means I'm this annoying whiny little bitch who should keep his mouth shut. I've been told reaching out for help makes you strong. I don't feel strong. I feel incredibly weak. 

Happiness is this fleeting thing, like sleep, that is just a period of time where I can forget everything and exist in the moment. However once that euphoria stops everything come crashing back down to the ground and here I am again, suffering. I want to help people. I like helping people. I help people at work all the time and sometimes it's rewarding. I help people in my life. I've given strangers money for gas, lent them cigarettes, and I'm even watching a cat for a friend. I do this, because it brings me joy and validates that my existence has a purpose. Which honestly, it's extremely bitter typing those words. It could be a selfish need to make myself happy, but I really do desire helping people if I can. Being a good Samaritan is just something I've done since I was in grade school. 

I question my mind. Why then, do I feel absolutely worthless to everyone and everything around me? A friend mentioned tonight that I should just let my emotionally abusive relationship go, but I have no idea how to begin to repair that damage. I've been burying that shit trying to learn from it. Learn to stick up for myself. Learn to expect give and take in a relationship. Stuff that isn't important unless you fucking have someone so it's literally useless information. Not to play blame train here, but she broke me. I never grieved for the relationship. I never talked about it with anyone after the fact in a healthy way. I just jumped to another moment in my life and left it behind. She trained me to think I was doing everything wrong. I see that. I see it in how she treated me and how she acted. I gave my heart and soul to that woman and it still wasn't enough. My physical life wouldn't have been enough, because I wasn't even the top 10 of important people in her life. 

I wish I knew where this shit comes from. I really do. I ask myself every day if people who don't have mental illness know how much I envy them? 

Like. The biggest fucking thing that gets me down is that this whole thing, everything I have mentioned feels absolutely shameful. Shame is the emotion that I feel right now. I am manic depressive and it is my fault. I should be ashamed and summarily executed on a burning pyre because why the fuck not. 

Anyway. I'm still slightly tipsy/drunk and going to bed now. Rant over.