I am a joke

A lot has happened since I last wrote here. I had a final, disastrous, heartbreaking meeting with Jillian in March. She elected to go back to her shitty, abusive husband and erase me from her life forever. I hope that she finally leaves him one day, and finds somebody so much better than either her husband or me, but I don’t think she ever will.

I got a shitty part time job in a mail room. It brought stability to my life but I couldn’t get past how embarrassed I was to be doing that for a living at my age. I bought a car with some money that I got after my grandfather died, since I crashed my old one into a tree. I wonder what he would think of me now. I fell in love with Sara, my student therapist, because of course I did, and then her rotation ended. I began working with Nate, who is a really great guy, but it isn’t the same.

A better job fell out of the sky and into my lap. I don’t know how to do my job and I don’t deserve to have it. I don’t make very much money and I probably never will. But I make enough to be financially independent, for the first time ever.

I have started training for a half marathon with a running club. The people there are very friendly, but I am the slowest, least experienced of the group, and I feel very out of place there. I feel like that no matter where I go or what I do or who I’m with. Just different in some fundamental way, completely unable to connect to anyone else. It’s an incredibly isolating experience. It feels like everyone else knows where they belong and who they belong with, and I am all alone.

I have begun using dating apps. It is as depressing as everyone says. I sometimes go weeks without getting any matches, and when I go on dates I can’t connect with anyone. I am just like this weird robot person pretending to be human and trying to figure out what it feels like for everyone else. I am learning how to date in my mid-30s. I should have been doing this as a teenager.

I am moving into an apartment finally. I love my apartment. But it’s old and rough around the edges and shows the world how poor I am. Most of the people I am meeting my age, whether they are involved in the activities I am trying to pursue, like running, or they are women I am dating, are professional, educated, making good money, own their own homes, have started families, are investing in retirement, etc. That’s not me. That may never be me, given how badly I have screwed up my financial/work situation. I won’t be able to afford to leave my current job for years, if ever, due to my terrible work history. And if I get fired or laid off, I will be totally screwed. I will likely have to get a minimum wage part-time job, and I won’t be able to afford my apartment any more.

Every step I take forward reminds me of how far behind I am and how out of sync I am with everyone else. I have 35 but I’m living like I’m 22. I have wasted too much time and missed out on too many opportunities. It didn’t have to be this way. I have no one to blame but myself for my own cowardly choices. I will never understand why I have lived my life the way that I have.

Therapy is ending soon. I have one more session. It didn’t really work. Every day I am tortured by that demon that just seems to live in my head. I have been seriously thinking about suicide again for the past two weeks. Every day that itch grows stronger and I want to scratch it. No one knows. I know no one reads this so no one will ever know.

I fantasize about buying a gun and doing it like a man. I wonder what my brains would look like splattered on my gray apartment walls. But the bullet would likely kill one of my neighbors. I am an utterly worthless piece of shit, but I am not going to take someone with me. I’ve considered sealing my windows and doors and cranking up the gas, but there is too great a risk of fire or explosion. The ceiling fan in my room likely won’t hold my weight, even though I’ve lost almost 50 pounds now.

Pills rarely work. Cutting is much easier said than done. And of course I don’t want my family to find my body. I still think the solution is to go back to nature. Jumping into the Grand Canyon. Freezing to death or jumping into a crevasse on Mt. Hood. Drowning off of the Carolina Coast, a place very close to my heart. If nobody knows that I went to these places, they will never find me. No search parties will have to risk their lives. My loved ones won’t have to see my dead body. If I do it right, they can even pretend that I am still out there somewhere, although I don’t know if that is better or worse.

I’ve started writing my note. I’m just using this to flesh out some ideas. Maybe someone will read this and comment. Perhaps offer a suggestion. I’m curious.