when i was able to get myself out of the house, and sometimes even when i wasn't able to, i tried all kinds of things to help me make or find a place for myself in the world. (i must admit, though, that when i wasn't able to go out, i spent most of my time too despondent to function.)
i looked through endless want ads, i wandered the streets for hours looking for businesses or places where i thought i might fit in, i took aptitude and interest tests, read books of job descriptions..
i went walking randomly for hours just to explore the world, to see the people out there, to try and find others like me..
i tried antidepressants.
i went for weight preoccupation therapy, family therapy (my family gets credit here for showing up for this as well), regular therapy, group therapy, relaxation therapy..
i took a correspondence college course (i graduated "with highest honours".. final grade of 100%).. i took courses only for interest's sake.. including various dance lessons. i joined clubs/groups, accepted social invitations, went to parties, movies, nightclubs..
i kept detailed dream journals and interpreted my dreams.
i read everything i could find that interested me.. at times i spent all day long reading for months on end.
i did some things i always thought i wanted to do: i went whitewater rafting, i went on houseboat trips, i bungee jumped (oops, this doesn't count, as it was a suicide test run), i went on road trips (one was from toronto to new orleans.) i've now also travelled a fair bit with gk.
i also approached things from a physical fitness angle. i danced, i went jogging, rollerblading, biking.. i aerobicized..
once, when i was still very young, i moved to the other side of the country to have a fresh start, away from my past, away from the roles i felt trapped in.
i wrote and wrote and wrote, thousands of pages of journals, often trying just to sort things out, make sense of things. sometimes i wrote along more creative lines.. i tried to write novels, stories, poems, erotica.. and sometimes just little rants on various topics.. i wrote my reactions/reviews of movies and books..
i tried creative visualization techniques and replacing negative thoughts with positive ones, i learned how to approach people i found interesting rather than hold my thoughts to myself.
i gave in to creative impulses.. sort of like "art therapy".. i created a deck of tarot cards (and read lots and lots of books on the tarot), and i painted murals.
i tried different things with my appearance in order to help me figure out and express more of who i am, to help me learn how to articulate more, and to help me break free from thinking i had to be trapped in any particular image..
i expressed myself as fully as i possibly could to a person i trusted, and this was probably *the* most important thing of all.. interestingly enough, this seemed to make the "messages" i was getting go away.
i found every possible way to motivate myself, but i ran out of energy, and in the end i still hadn't found a way to fit into life, i still felt panicked, distressed, uncomfortable, awkward and alienated, and i still wanted to die.
i think it's possible that i've put more thought and effort into finding solutions for my life than most people do. maybe there is just something about me that makes it impossible to fit into a kind of pattern that would allow me to have a "productive" life. i think most people just sort of drift into their lives, without anywhere near the amount of conscious thought i've put into things.
maybe i'm too sensitive to deal with certain things. maybe i'm not good at compromise, and maybe i'm just spoiled. i tried very hard not to be spoiled. i lowered my expectations, and still could not meet my lowered expectations.
i am glad i tried all that i tried. i don't know how to explain, but i had moments through all of this in which i felt i was being true to myself, that i was doing the "right" thing, and at times i was pleased with myself. i did suffer horrendously, though, and things have really gone on for long, horrible years.. eventually, it seemed to me that the only way i could take responsibility for myself was to kill myself.
on medication:
i admit that i am very prejudiced against medication. to me, agreeing to take it seems to presuppose that i accept that certain things in life are important, that i accept that what the majority finds healthy is actually healthy and that i am ill, rather than having perfectly reasonable responses to my life experiences and to the world in general.
i don't think medication can solve that i don't see any reason for any of us to be here and that there isn't anything i really want to do with my life.
i have been prescribed medications before without what seemed to me adequate reasons. i'd ask what was being prescribed and why, what side effects i could expect and what the objectives were, but i never seemed to get satisfactory answers.
on a couple of occasions, i have been prescribed antipsychotics that could have left me with permanent side effects (perphenazine, chlorpromazine) .. oddly enough, i don't think most people know that some of the symptoms we associate with schizophrenia can actually be caused by the meds given to treat it.. i've been prescribed antianxiety meds that caused a woman i knew (who was prescribed the same meds) to be slightly incontinent, and, i think pot worked much better for her anyway.. the tricyclics i took didn't help my depression, but they gave me a horribly dry mouth and a few other things i found unpleasant.
perhaps ssris would have an effect on serotonin levels such that my need to binge/purge would be eliminated/reduced, but there's still the question of side effects.. one that particularly scares me is inhibited or decreased sexual desire or responses..
anyway, i just don't want drugs. if the way i feel leads me to kill myself, i don't think that's a bad thing at all. if the objective of taking meds is to get me functioning in society, i think that's an unrealistic objective. and if it's just to reduce suffering, i'd rather suffer and at least get to experience things in my own way. i suspect that on my own i'm more likely to experience the obsessive feelings/adrenaline highs that i personally associate with being truly "alive".