Sorry ahead of time if things seem jumbled or I repeat myself even more than before. I tried to do something new this time and not actually write first by just saying what’s on my mind. Writing first just makes me look over things again and makes me overthink. I end up editing things and distorting my actual feelings then I take forever writing. I recorded first, then transcribed it after so people could read instead of listen. I’ll post the audio file after I get back and edit the useless stuff out of it.

Depression’s a bitch. That’s really the only way I can describe it.

I’ve learned it’s not really something that can be explained rationally or logically. I used to pride myself on my logic and reasoning but now everything is just controlled by emotions. Applying logic and trying to rationalize something like depression just doesn’t work. The more I think about it the worse it gets. I try to explain and find the reasoning for it and apply it to parts of my life but it’s just there. Even when I solve what I think are the problems, it’s still there. Even when I remove the obvious sources of stress from my life, it’s still there. Even when I do something that should make me happy, it’s still there.

Some days I wake up angry at nothing, and some days everything. Knowing in the back of my mind I shouldn’t even be angry at all, yet my emotions tell and carry me elsewhere.

Some days I wake up afraid of everything and some days I don’t know why I’m afraid but I’m still full of dread.

Some days I worry about everything, and some days I don’t care enough about anything to worry.

Some days I’m happy for a few minutes then I’m brought back to the reality that I’m not .

Then there’s those days I wake up feeling nothing. Literally nothing. Just an empty feeling. No sadness, no anger, no happiness, just an empty state of existence.

Despair is commonplace. It makes me question if there really is a light at the end of the tunnel for someone like me. She keeps telling me to feel hope and to be hopeful but no matter how much I try to have hope I get dragged deeper and deeper.

It feels like I’m suffocating or drowning. I can’t breathe and I’m grasping and reaching out for anybody and anything to help me. In reality, all I’m doing is dragging other people down with me. She once said, “Misery loves company, but when you’re miserable you’re not good company.” It’s still true.

Sometimes living is really painful, but I would never kill myself. I tell myself that every time I hit a low. I will *never* kill myself. But what’s stopping me? There’s still so much I owe this world that I’m nowhere close to paying back. There’s also so many people I would never want to hurt with me gone. I hear people joke about suicide and I think it’s terrible. Why would you even joke about ending your own life when so many people out there love you even when you don’t love yourself. Even knowing that, sometimes your brain doesn’t believe it.

No matter how much you “know” something isn’t true, your brain is telling you it is. There’s this air of delusion. You keep thinking nobody loves you, that becomes a reality. You keep thinking nobody likes you, that becomes a reality. You keep thinking people hate you, that becomes a reality. You keep thinking everybody hates you, that becomes a reality. You keep thinking things until the point your brain can’t accept anything BUT that. You keep thinking things until your actions make people feel those emotions and those opinions they never had before you started thinking them.

I keep acting out and I don’t know how to control myself any more. It’s just really confusing. I don’t know how much of it is the depression or how much of it is just me being a shitty person. Regardless it’s still me and I have to fix this.

I’ve never experienced this level of self-sabotage until. I know what to do, but I choose not to. I know what not to do, yet I choose to do it. I keep hurting my progression in life. I wouldn’t attribute it to a fear of success. Unless it really is the fear of the unknown. I keep hurting myself. I keep hurting the ones I love.

I’m losing friends every week. What little friends I have are getting more and more put off by my behaviour. I don’t even have patience for myself any more. I don’t know how some people put up with me for so long and a lot of them are starting to not be able to. People are getting frustrated by the constant melancholy. People are getting frustrated by the constant negativity. People are getting frustrated by my unwillingness to help myself.

I’m very reluctant to pursue large changes. Something about being complacent with being unhappy is less frightening than changing something for the better. Sometimes I just have this moment of clarity and realize there are people who are my sources of unhappiness, but they’re still around for one reason or another.

When I’m depressed, I’m a sponge. I just soak up all the negative qualities of people. I don’t know if it’s my natural tendency for empathy or the depression. I just mimic and mimic all these easy behaviors. Being a worse person is easier than it is to be a good person. It’s easier to blame others than it is to accept it’s your own fault. It’s easier to complain than it is to try to fix the situation. It’s easier to deflect than it is to confront. It’s easier to settle than it is to reach. It’s easier to bring people down than it is to lift them up.

When I’m depressed I’m extremely insecure, more than I usually am. Or am I even insecure if it wasn’t for this. It’s hard to separate what’s Khoi and what’s the depression thinking. I’ve been depressed for over 10 years now. A lot of my negative qualities, they’re just a part of me now. I keep letting people’s opinions and words affect me. Even if I know the truth, I start to even doubt myself. It really puts a damper on relationships when in addition to other people you’re even questioning yourself.

You’re too much of a buzzkill to be around. You guys are weird how close you are, it’s unnatural. You guys talk and hang out too much. People only hang out with you out of obligation. People only talk to you because they feel they have to. How are you even friends? I don’t know why they’re friends with someone like you. You don’t deserve them as a friend. You’d put them over your family? You’re a burden. You’re annoying them. They muted your notifications. They’re ashamed of you. They don’t feel the same way as you do. You’re not as close as you think you are. You’re insignificant to them. You’re lucky you’re useful.

Even if I know better and trust the other party wholly, I act on those insecurities and it makes everything worse. It makes me hate myself even more when I come out of it.

It’s not an isolated incident either.

The last time I wrote I only referenced one person. But now that I think about it, there’s more people who always do this. When I start to ask myself why they do these things I start trying to rationalize other people and find excuses for their behaviours. I can’t keep excusing and forgiving people when I don’t even excuse and forgive myself. In my lowest point this last weekend I realized it’s, “Insecure people making other insecure people even more insecure.” Let’s just leave it at that.

I still keep them around and allow them to hurt me and hurt my relationships with people. I can’t even blame them, it’s my fault for not liberating myself from them. It’s my fault for not realizing how cancerous they are when given the chance to leave. Maybe it’s the sunk cost fallacy? I’ve invested so many emotions and so much time and money into them, to be rid of them now feels like a waste. But history is history. Removing them doesn’t mean you’re getting rid of what you had, just getting rid of who they are currently right? I shouldn’t feel bad for looking out for myself and putting myself first.

I need to do things to make my life happier.

It doesn’t help that every high point is followed by greater lows. I can’t stay happy or have anything good happen to me without even deeper depression the following weeks or being super unlucky after. I never used to believe in luck, but I’m starting to believe there *is* bad luck.

I really hate the people that say I have no reason to be depressed. Yes, for all intents and purposes I should be happy. I still have a few great friends that love me. I still have some family members that legitimately care about me. I have a place to live. I have a car to drive if I need it. I have the skills and tools to be successful.

Having things doesn’t make me happy, though. This past month I went overboard with retail therapy. I bought a lot of games and consumer electronics. A lot of them aren’t even downloaded yet or taken out of their boxes. I bought a lot of shoes and clothes that I haven’t worn or even taken out of their boxes. I bought a lot of good food, but my appetite isn’t what it used to be. I commissioned a lot of art I didn’t even bother looking at. The only commission I actually cared about and wanted wasn’t even for me. I can’t even begin rationalize this. I’m just as miserable as I was before all these purchases.

Some days are a lot worse than others. I used to never cry. The last time I cried was when my dad died. Before his passing, the worst I would do is tear up. Since then even with the passing of many family members and friends, I only teared up. I don’t care if you think me less of a man, but in the last month and a half I’ve cried a fair bit. In the last week alone, I’ve cried every day. I feel guilty for crying more for recent events than the loss of my father but it doesn’t change the fact that I did. I just don’t know any more.

I don’t know ANYTHING any more. For the first time in my life I feel stupid. I used to have answers for everything, but now I can’t even answer without having to stop and think then question myself and question everything. I don’t wanna lie or be wrong so I just can’t answer anything.

2016 I’ve just been aimless. My goal for this year was supposed to be school but I got anxious/scared thinking about school leading to panic attacks that lead to dropping classes.

I need goals.

2013’s was making great friends and being a great friend. 2014’s was to get back into business. 2015s was to get in back in shape. Well, I was never in shape. So to get “in shape.” Even then, those 3 years of progress are diminished. The friends I became closer with in 2013 aren’t as close. The business I started is gone and closed. 20% of the weight I lost is gained back.

This year’s goal will be my mental health and I hope it sticks for more than one year. There’s still 3 months left in 2016. Maybe I can tackle depression and be happier by the end of the year.

I’ve been very reluctant to seek professional help. In Asian culture mental illness is really taboo. Hell it only exists as psychosis. You’re either too much of a bitch to not man up and get over it, or you’re insane. There’s really no middle ground. You’re either normal, weak, or insane. Okay I’m weak. I admit it. Or maybe I’m insane. I don’t even know any more. I obviously need help but I haven’t pursued it. I promised someone I would. I’ve broken so many promises to them lately and this is the one I have to keep, not only for them but for my own sake.

I want to try therapy first, but I get the feeling therapy alone won’t help. I’ve poured my heart and soul out to people and even though some people always managed to calm me down, I’m never happy for long. Every doctor since 2007 has tried to put me on anti-depressants and the only thing preventing them from forcing me to take them is my lack of self-harm or suicidal thoughts. Some of them think it’s more chemical than psychological so they just want to put me on stuff so I stop suffering daily.

I’m very scared of medication, though.

Is the medication trying to make Khoi Khoi? Is it going to uncover the me buried under all this depression? Or is it trying to make someone else completely? What if I lose myself in the process? I’m so concerned about my identity but I’m not even sure if that’s who I am. What if the medication makes me someone I’m not trying to be? What if what I’m trying to be is what this depressed shell of a person wants? I can’t tell. I’m separating Khoi from his personality. I’m afraid of losing myself in the pursuit of being happy.

I’m afraid once I’m on those pills I might change my values. I’m afraid I might distance even more people I care about. What if all those friends I made when I was going through this depression aren’t the friends I have after? Is it like I’m living an entirely new life forgetting about the past. What if I’m on medications for the rest of my life is this the new person that’s going to continue on as the old Khoi dies?

I’m afraid of falling out of love with myself. I don’t love myself much now, but it’s a weird thought to have. Love always has that apprehension of loss. You love something enough that the fear of losing it is there even though there’s that anticipation and readiness to prevent it. I’m afraid it’s going to be like a bad breakup. Feelings are gone; time to find a new one. I’m afraid it’s going to be like losing one of the people you love. When your dog dies you don’t immediately try to replace it, it’s family. It meant something. When my dad died I didn’t immediately say, “Time to find a new father figure.” I don’t like the way I’m feeling any more but does that mean I want to replace it so readily and lose myself? I spent the last 10 years with you. It’s just these thoughts racing through my head and if I’m willing to pursue it.

And worst of all: what if the medication and therapy just makes things worse. Every commercial you see for depression medication always has suicide warnings. I’ve never had those thoughts before, but I’m afraid they might come now once I start taking them.

My doctor referred me to a therapist on the 20th. I called him that day and left message. No call back. I called again on the 26th, no call back. I called up my insurance and asked for another therapist. I called her and she recommended I try one more week with the first person I called because they would interface and interact more with my primary. I called 2 others and they said to try the first two options first due to the cost of mental health care without proper insurance. Even with PPO I guess mental health is still that weird area.

Frustrated with the original therapist’s lack of response, I went back to my primary care and I’ve received a prescription for Zoloft but I’m scared to take it. Suicidal thoughts warnings on the labels and pamphlets make me hesitate even more. Is this a risk I’m really willing to take? I just want to be normal and think normally again. I miss my friends but the way I am I don’t deserve any of them. It’s funny how I isolated I am myself then complain about loneliness.

I realize how stupid and selfish it is to say and think these things. Especially publicly. Why do I keep talking? Who am I trying to explain it to? The persons who matter already know these things.

I just need to get away for a while. I just impulse bought tickets to Seattle. PAX is going on but I really just want to wander, explore and eat.

I have never actually travelled before. It’s always been for business or for family (I don’t count day trips or even Vegas as travelling.) Maybe this trip will calm me down. Maybe it’ll make it worse. Who knows? I just want to try things before I get stuck in therapy or pills for the rest of my life. I should probably start packing.

Khoi

Author Khoi

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