June 8, 2020
Being around people right now is toxic for me, and for them. People want to talk to me and I can’t physically do anything but stay quiet, even if I wanted to. I don’t know if it’s anxiety, but some executive function inside me is forcing me to be verbally silent. The last time this happened was mid-2018, which I chalked up to selective mutism.
I was in a minimally conscious state for two weeks after my coma. Nurses documented an avoidant personality type alongside my inability to speak. This isn’t something I can control. Even if I could talk, I don’t know what to say as my mind draws a blank as much as I try. I want and require to be left alone. It’s a mistake to have even presented myself to other people; there is not a single good reason to get anyone else involved with something I can’t fully define myself. I can’t talk to a therapist for this reason, either.
I’m becoming incompetent. Flaws in my logic and judgement are being exposed left and right, I don’t trust myself to do anything, even something like driving. I hate this autonomous robot I have become in the past few years. I was never able to hold a conversation with a person for more than 5 minutes; there’s nothing to talk about aside from greetings, small talk, and salutations. There is, quite literally, no personality which exists, and I have no interests aside from a dubious, niche console hacking background. I’m a lifeless husk which shifts into whatever personality the second party exhibits in order to fit in. I have no identity and that’s nothing less than a fact. A ten minute discussion that seems normal does not expose a person’s overall character or personality.
A lot of my fundamental viewpoints are contrary to what is considered normal. I don’t belong in this society. Being a member of society doesn’t work if you have to avoid said society to have a semblance of function. A warning alarm goes off inside my head for every action I take, which was a trait I held dear during school, but is eating me alive at present – I can physically hear these alarming thoughts. My thoughts are getting loud to the point where I have to cover my ears. I don’t want to put everything on hold for me to learn how to become a human when none of it interests me. It isn’t being pessimistic for the sake of pessimism. I fail to see the point in that; these are my unadulterated experiences.
I have already reduced my work schedule to four days a month and I know that that is still too much. I’m trapped, and none of this will make any sense to anyone. There is no best decision for anything in this situation. I still couldn’t properly explain every issue in this giant group of paragraphs.
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Two more months have passed and nothing changed. It’s not necessarily that I’m not advocating for it or failing to even try; I don’t know what to do. Everything’s hit rock bottom and stuff will find a way to go lower.
I woke up crying yesterday from a dream, those things I rarely ever have in the first place. I noticed, that in dreams like that, they’re always set during my childhood in Ohio. Back when I didn’t have to worry about my own issues and when I was just an equal generic baby to the next toddler in the church daycare. When I didn’t have to worry about my mom’s declining health, or how I have to be filled with guilt towards the houseowner that is on the other side of the country. Not even mentioning college. I started crying immediately after the mother in my dreams told me that “we’ll be going home soon.” As if it were the closing to a normal day, free of fears and lies and responsibilities. An able-bodied parent who can transport themselves at all is something I knew was off. My mom hasn’t been like that for over a decade.
I start to think about the potential that could have arisen, and every single opportunity that I passed down. I can’t believe this is what everything’s led up to during all 19 years. I guess it doesn’t help that I found a photo of me as a two-year-old before the day of the dream. The future stresses me out. Public facing roles stress me out. Prolonged person-to-person interaction burns me out… which is my job, and a requirement for attending literally any college course. I’ve been burnt out for the past 3 years, and every effort I take to climb out of this rut returns fruitless. I haven’t made a commit to many of my projects since 2018. I’ve taken two semesters of college and not passed a single class. This is due to my own incompetence, period, no sugarcoating will change that. I strongly dislike being willingly led in the wrong direction just because “it’s okay” or “it’s normal”. People are meaning well and I can’t help but push them away. Yet, the easiest way to get this off my mind is by typing to an audience-less void. I don’t like being a ghost to people who mean well, but my own head stops me from being any closer to anyone. I ask people to confide in my for their issues, yet I can’t confide in anyone else. I rarely ever speak to any of my friends in the first place, unless they’re in a group.
Is it supposed to help that my memory’s being gradually wiped before my eyes and I’m experiencing increasingly debilitating psychological disorders ever since my stroke? Misophonia makes me wish I was deaf every day, the potential myoclonic seizures are nothing but alarming.
On the off-chance that anyone reads this in the future, I’ve already tried holding out for years; this certainly isn’t an impulsive act.
[…] Here, I mentioned how it’s impossible to reasonably appear in public. At the current moment, everything I’ve feared is now playing out. In addition to the PNEEs, I tend to hit or choke myself, which is pathetic to attempt to explain when it happens in public, as I don’t even fully know if it is a conscious movement on my end. It doesn’t feel like it, and self-abusive motions would be odd to occur involuntarily. And if a person notices the action, it makes me only want to disappear. […]