Be Afraid and Buy Shit

It appears I haven’t written in a while. It’s hard to write about anything when you don’t even want to get out of bed most days, but I’ve gradually pulled myself back up out of the pit that I was in for months. I’m not fully out of the funk, but things are getting better. I’m trying to make the best of each day. I have my good days and bad, highs and lows. My psychiatrist increased my meds, but my insurance won’t pay for the increase so the doctor gave me free samples of the increased dosage. The intrusive thoughts aren’t as prominent as they once were. You’d think they’d be worse what with the whole COVID-19 bullshit going on and all. That’s actually why I came on here to talk to whomever reads this damned thing.

It seems that things are getting worse and worse if you listen to the news. That’s all they want to talk about. Is nothing else going on in the world? I suppose school shooters are on vacation because they realize they won’t be getting any attention any time soon. I’m not saying I’d rather kids go back to shooting up schools. I’m saying we have a new scare tactic to focus on to remind people that the world is a dangerous place and they need to go out and buy stuff to keep the economy going. Buy, buy, buy; spend, spend, spend.

Every so often we go through something like this. Some pandemic happens and it’s all the media can focus on to keep the masses afraid. Give it a few months and it’ll blow over, we’ll have another election, and in another four years we’ll have something else to fear so we can elect some other incompetent putz who claims they’re going to save the day.

There’s no setting people’s minds at ease. It’s much easier to keep them afraid so they continue to spend their hard earned money on shit that’s not going to work. Money fixes everything in America. Am I right? I thought I was going to have more to say about this, but I’m sick of hearing about it, which means I’m already sick of writing about it. Forget everything I’ve said, hunker down in your bomb shelters, shut out the world, wait for everything to die around you, and the living will let you know when it’s safe to come back out and continue being good little consumers.

A Guide to Driving Yourself Crazy

I don’t know if you know what it’s like to be aware of what tomorrow is going to bring for the most part and still be terrified of it. I know what I’m going to do every day. There are no surprises and I prefer it that way. Surprises aren’t always good. A part of me prefers the monotony of my life. It’s safer. I think I’ve mentioned that I’ve become more and more of a shut-in as of late. I would rather not go anywhere and risk getting injured or worse. What a contradiction coming from someone who wishes they’d never been born in the first place. Just because I wish for non-existence doesn’t mean I want to die at the moment.

I’ve mentioned before how death never bothered me until recently. Now it’s all I can think about. It’s why I stay in the house. It’s why I don’t venture out more. I’m terrified of trying anything new. I hate going new places, unfamiliar places. I hate that I’ve gotten this way and I don’t know what to do about it.

I dread when friends ask me if I want to do something because that means I’m going to have to step out of the comfort of my own home where I feel safe. I don’t know what’s going to happen when I leave. Any number of things can go wrong and I start playing these scenarios out in my head over and over again. We could get in a wreck. We could get robbed. We could get shot by some asshole that wants to be famous by killing a few dozen people. See? Any number of things can go wrong out there.

I don’t think I can truly convey how real this fear is of mine. Any time I do manage to work up the courage (and believe me, it takes a lot for me) to go out somewhere I’m looking for the nearest exits in the event something goes horribly wrong. I have friends in other countries that I’d love to visit, but I’m afraid I never will because all I can think about is the plane crashing into the ocean and myself drowning even though someone assured me I’d be dead before I’d actually drown, but still … given my recent paranoia that something terrible is going to happen to me or a loved one, I don’t want to risk anything.

This all leads to such a boring life for me now. I dread when people want to play catch up with me. “What have you been up to as of late?”

“Me? Oh, nothing. I sit at home in constant fear, afraid to go out into the world because I don’t know what’s going to happen from one day to the next. I could get shot, stabbed, run over by a car. I also drive myself crazy because I have no control over what happens in the lives of those I care about, and I have to live with the knowledge that at any moment someone I love can be snatched away from me, but enough about me. How about you? How have you been? I hear you’re doing quite well for yourself while I’ve been having nervous breakdowns for the past three or four months. What’s it like to live a normal life and not dread what’s coming tomorrow?”

The Beauty of Non-Existence: Anti-Natalism Chronicles XII

Do any of us really know what happens after death? We all have our varying beliefs, but no one really knows until they’ve experienced it, and it’s not like any of them can come back and let us know if they’re having a good time or if the whole death thing isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I’m sure it has its ups and downs like anything else. You no longer have to worry about bills or your health, but you’re also missing out on shit that others are doing that maybe you would have enjoyed if you were still alive.

This is another argument for putting an end to procreation. None of us know what life was like before being brought into this world and none of us had a bad day because of it. I don’t remember anything about being a year old, being in the womb, and I most certainly don’t remember anything before that. Nothing bad happens when you don’t exist. It’s when you bring people into existence. That’s when problems start.

I’ve been struggling as of late. I’ve mentioned it a time or two. I’ve slipped into another depressive episode and can’t shake it. Another day has gone by and another one is going to come and go tomorrow. I don’t know what tomorrow is going to bring or what the next few months or few years are going to bring. I just know now more than ever that time is ticking away and there’s nothing I can do about it. I suppose I could kill myself, but that would leave others behind and I don’t want to do that, but the thought crosses my mind time and time again. I was doing so well with keeping the suicidal thoughts at bay, too.

I would never have had these problems had I never been born. I think we’ve seen a movie or a television show where an angel or ghost of some sort comes to a person and shows them what life would have been like had they never been born. These mediums always paint existence in a positive light because we all want to feel better at the end of the day. That’s why we turn to sitcoms and banal shit such as that. We want to feel better. When I lie in bed at night, I don’t feel better. I feel like things would be better without me here.

If it were up to me, I’m talking about being in the spirit realm or whatever came before I was conceived, I would have told my parents to think twice about deciding to have a child. If I got to have a look at everything that would happen to me and see how it all turns out for me in the end; the good, the bad, the ups and downs, I believe I’d choose not being born at all. It’s the constant worry of what’s going to happen from one day to the next. No one has to worry about that when they don’t exist.

No one has to worry at this moment. I’m not going to do anything drastic. I don’t even know how many of you out there still read the dribble I spill onto this fucking site. I’m not longing for death. I’m longing for never being born in the first place.

Forget It. It’s Sooze-Town.

I’ve noticed my social anxiety and depression have gotten worse as of late. I can’t listen to anyone because I’m too focused on all the shit going on in my head. I have kept it all bottled up for weeks now, and I realized that maybe I should just write everything down that’s going on so maybe I can have it all in one place as kind of a go-to if I need it when I see my psychiatrist in a few weeks.

I don’t know why it started. I was doing so well with my medication, but I started talking about things that don’t really matter with my psychiatrist in order to avoid what’s really bothering me. I do that more often than I’d like to admit. I’m prone to keeping things bottled up like I always have. I know that talking things through helps, but sometimes I can’t make myself do it. I feel like my problems are insignificant, like they don’t matter.

I find it hard to sleep at night because of all the thoughts that go racing through my head. I’m 32-years-old and I have nothing to show for it. I’m terrified of absolutely everything these days and I’ve become a shut-in basically. I can’t drive due to epilepsy, but I want to get out of the house so when the opportunity arrives to go for a drive with someone I always go, but I stay in the car. I can’t bring myself to get out and go inside anywhere. All the people make me nervous. I get nervous being surrounded by so many people and then realizing all those people making me nervous makes me even more nervous. I break out into a sweat. I start fidgeting. I pace back and forth.

I’m not getting any younger and the thought of death is always in the back of my mind. I know we’re all going to die and I used to be accepting of that fact, but as I get older and realize my time is running out I’m becoming less and less OK with it. I’ve always had a great relationship with my mom, and she has always been the one constant in my life; I fear something happening to her and never seeing her again. I don’t know how to shake these feelings. I dread the days she goes to work. I dread the times she has to fly to another state for work. I have this constant fear that something is going to happen to her and I’m not going to know how to handle it.

Then there’s the fear of something happening to me. I know when I’m dead it will all be over for me and I won’t know any different, but it’s just the thought of being dead and thinking about those I left behind and the impact it will have on them. My dad committed suicide fifteen years ago. My grandfather died three years ago. My mom’s boyfriend died almost two years ago. What’s my mom going to do if something happens to me?

It’s stupid, but I think about what happens after I’m dead. I think of things I’m going to miss out on when that happens, trivial things. I won’t be able to see my family or friends anymore. I won’t be able to read another book. I won’t be able to watch the shows that I enjoy. No more walks with my dog. No more sitting outside and enjoying the weather, watching the cars go by. Life goes on long after we’re gone. I want to leave something behind so that I can be remembered. I just don’t know what. I want to be remembered. I have this fear of being forgotten.

It’s like that one scene in “BoJack Horseman” where he says, “Is that life? You’re there, you do your thing, and then people forget.” That’s what I fear the most. I want my life to mean something. I don’t want to be forgotten. What do I have to do to make some sort of impact? I don’t want to just be another name on a tombstone. I see all those tombstones in the cemetery – names of people I never knew. I wonder if other people remember them. How many people go and visit those graves? After a while when the initial shock wears off that your loved one has passed, you visit the grave less and less. I guess I just have a fear of being forgotten. I want my life to have meaning and purpose, but I don’t know how to make that happen.

My Dog: Not the Only Bitch on This Road

It’s ingrained in a dog’s DNA. Dogs chase shit: cars, bicycles, squirrels, rabbits, runners. It’s like Joker said in The Dark Knight though: “You know what I am? I’m a dog chasing a car. I wouldn’t know what to do with one if I caught it.” That’s basically how my dog is. My dog is like any other dog on this road. I’ve been chased by dogs on this road. My way of dealing with it is to remain calm. By remaining calm and not panicking, the dog stops in its tracks and sniffs me out to realize, “Oh. OK. You’re cool. Now pet me, human.”

I understand that fear, though. Some people have bad experiences with dogs. They’ve been bitten by a dog before. I’ve been punched by humans before, but I don’t assume every human I come across is going to punch the shit out of me. There are cyclists that come down my road, knowing good and damned well that I have a dog. They’ve encountered my dog on multiple occasions and constantly act surprised and terrified every time they encounter my dog.

I had the misfortune of talking to one of these people earlier in the week. I say “misfortune” because I hate talking to people. I especially hate talking to people early in the morning before I’ve had my first cup of coffee and smoke. I spotted the cyclists after my dog did and had to stand up and shout at them, “She’s not going to bite!” I had to shout this because 1. my dog was barking at them and 2. they were barking back at my dog. Yes, that’s the perfect way to keep a dog calm: antagonize them by barking back at them.

“Sir, can I talk to you for a minute?” Fuck!

“Ma’am?”

“You know there are leash laws in this county?”

“I was not aware of that, no.”

“You can’t just let your dog run around like you’re doing. See this here on my leg? It’s a scar from a dog bite. $35,000 settlement.”

I’m assuming you’re just looking for another lawsuit.

“Mmhmm.”

“I don’t mean to cause any trouble. I love dogs. You just never know when one is going to lash out and bite.”

“Well, I assure you that she’s not going to bite.”

“All it takes is one time.”

“I’ll make sure I take care of it.”

I got to thinking about the dogs up the street from me that sometimes come running toward me when I go for my walks. I freeze when they come running because if I take off running they may take that as a game of chase. It never crosses my mind to go knock on the owner’s door and say to them, “Your dog came running after me when I was walking, and I’d hate to talk about lawsuits, but…”

If it hadn’t been early in the morning and I wasn’t trying to enjoy my coffee and smoke, I should have suggested the woman take a different path on her bicycle if she was so concerned about my dog biting her. She said she and her friends come down my road at least once a week and always worry about my dog when they pass by my house. Then maybe you and your friends shouldn’t, you know, pass by my fucking house.

If I think I’m going to get attacked by going down a dark alley or down a certain street then I don’t walk down that dark alley or street. I don’t claim to be the most intelligent person on the planet, but when I meet people such as the woman I’m talking about in this blog, I think that I’m easily in the top ten.