Self-Destruction.

I haven’t posted anything for the past few days as I am dealing with majors problems that are aggravating my depression. And potentially destroying more of my life. It is my fault as “you create the life that you have,” as per my former psychiatrist’s quote.

I want to make one thing very clear that I take full ownership of the wrongdoing that I’ve done consciously and unconsciously.

What I have done recently is the same thing that I’ve done in the past by creating a self-destructive situation without being aware it. These episodes have always been linked with hypomania, not depression (according to me) as I come across just fine and arrogant. This self-destructive process is a mystery to me. I was able to extract some common denominators which are fears and lack of self-esteem, and I am sure they are other negative feelings involved, but I have not been able to identify them yet.

What I have noticed when they both start to take too much importance in my daily thought process, I start to become passively aggressive. Unwillingly and unknown to me the self-destructive process begins. It is only, afterward that I discover what has been done and I realize the damages caused. Most harms cannot be undone, and I am carrying on destroying my family, my friends, my life.

Even with all my experiences, I can’t stop myself when I get into this mode. I don’t notice it. It is like I am possessed, that some forces have taken control of me and me my actions and I honestly don’t see what is happening. The illness blinds me.

I sure hope that I will stop with this self-destruction or I will end up alone then dead.

I am afraid that this incurable illness of mine, bipolar 2 with an affective disorder, is so powerful and continually evolving, that it will remain a mystery for a very long time. I realized through the blogging community that so many of you have gone through the same destructive phases being powerless and ending paying the price for it. Don’t get me wrong I am holding myself responsible for my actions despite my illness. I pay the price, I always did.

I am quite happy that I have a shorter life expectancy, 10 to 30 years less than the regular population, as I made a promise not to commit suicide. I hope that I’ll be closer to the 30 mark.  I have no desire to live anymore. I don’t find any pleasure in life, only problems. I can’t recall the last time I really laughed. I am sick and tired of being always depressed, and I fully know that I am about to reach new lows in the next few days. This is not a life, broke, depressed and no semblance of future.

Instead of getting better with time it seems to get worse. I didn’t improve my life and my family’s life. I have made it worse year after year, and it’s not stopping. A good friend of mine once told, “if you think about it, it can always get worse.” I reflected on this statement, and he is correct, as scary as it looks it is true.

One last point. I finally accepted that I could not play in the big league anymore. I don’t have the strength and the mind for it. I am a much iller than I wanted to believe. I am worried sick about my family’s future.

Peace and serenity

 

Lawrence

 

 

 

Advertisement