I've been thinking of writing a follow-up to my post about my now on only mostly lifelong depression. And surprise, this is that post. :) Its mostly stream of consciousness style, but I did try and edit it a bit.

I've realized that I have never had a friend before. I've cared about people, but the trust required to consider someone a friend was something I wasn't capable of. I only realized a few months back that trust is an emotion; it was always a rather cold calculus for me. I would think something to the effect of 'While I trust them not to kill me or physically hurt me...'. I would think a similar thing about best friends, 'Well they are literally my best(think closest) friend'. People have cared for me, but since I couldn't reciprocate, I can't call that a friendship.

It does explain a lot of things that didn't make sense to me before. Everyone I knew always acted like I hated being around them, and in a sense, they were right. I hated being around people because I couldn't actually connect with them. It was like watching people feast while you are starving. I had to impotently attempt to form connections that were impossible for me, while the other person blissfully formed that connection without even thinking about it.
I still have issues trusting people, but I have gotten massively better in this regard. There are a few people I consider casual friends now, but I cannot say I have a close friend.

I also have a fair bit of anger towards people who called themselves my friends. I cannot remember a point when I felt like any of them seriously tried to help me. And its not like I didn't have people who stated they loved me, I've had a few, but that I never felt that love breathed into actions. I imagine I will always wonder if it was just because it was too hidden or if no one ever really tried. I have also realized that I don't think anyone ever realized how bad off I was. To be fair, I couldn't have told you how bad off I was then either, but I have the excuse of not knowing what happiness was.

I've also realized how little people who have not experienced something like lifelong depression understand about it. I've discussed it with a few people, and even the one's who have been depressed and who have had serious issues, do not understand. In particular, a lot of people will use the phrase 'Making up for lost time' and do not understand how incorrect it is. There is no making up for the lost time; I will have always lived roughly a third of my life devoid of happiness and meaning. Nothing will change that, and nothing could ever remove the weight of that burden. Even if I live my best possible life from now own, it won't make my past self happy. Also of course I want to live my best possible life, but that's probably the most universal desire in existence. And my point isn't to insult the people who use this phrase, but to offer a particular example of what I mean by not understanding.

This type of comment also implies suffering from being in a bad situation, not suffering from being in a void. (Though I imagine the vast majority of people do not understand the difference) What most people call suffering is being in the dark, a metaphorical, or sometimes literal, punch to the face; something clearly delineated and demarcated. Some moment of shadow within a wider context of light; even if the shadow greatly outweighs the light, there is still both light and shadow. The suffering of the void is a separation from even the dimension of light/dark itself. And it is a hungry void, it consumes everything and turns it into the Same. Even people who have experienced the suffering of being in a void for a time have memories of light/dark as a reminder of what they are looking for. I do want to be explicit here, I don't think suffering is useful or valuable. Suffering doesn't make you strong or interesting, it just fucking sucks. Nothing pisses me off more then when people dick measure with how bad their life has been. I do kinda feel like an angsty teen talking about this, but it is something I have feel so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I have also been steadily seeing how fucked up some things in my past were. For example, as a 7 year-old I had to learn how to careful couch all my words to avoid pushing my mother to suicide. I realized that not feeling physically safe anywhere is a problem.

I got a job working at a local restaurant. Its a mediocre job, but I wanted a zero-stress job and it provided that. I have a few coworkers I consider friends, but the one I am closest to just left which is a bummer. I do also feel like I am down with this period of my life, and I just want to move on right now but I still need to wait a bit.

I am moving to Portland, OR in February. Its definitely the next step I need to take, but its obviously still scary.

I have been working on some coding side-projects that I have enjoyed. One is a weather alert that only sends me alerts if X condition is met, so if the temperature drops 20 degrees or a blizzard is coming type of thing. I have the core logic working, but I am still working on the notification method. I am also working on a stenography theory that attempts to use semantic relationships instead of phonetics as the base dimension. Its still really, really early, but its in that fun, highly theoretical stage.

I have realized that I am not actually ugly, but you know a little too overwhelmed to recognize normal people's interest. I was also surprised how enjoyable it is to wear clothes that look good on you. Unfortunately, there is no one I am particularly interested in right now, but at least I would be able to act if I met someone. I also still have no idea how to date; like do you just approach someone and ask them? Is that it?

This post is much longer then I was originally thinking, so if you read through to the end, thanks.

My two roommates and I just finally got over some kind of weird cold-like illness, took us 11-12 days to recover. Not Covid (based on 1 negative PCR test for one of us; I'm assuming we all had the same thing). Presumably, just your random cold/flu-type bug. A remote co-worker (400 km away, both of us in EU) has been experiencing a similar illness for over a week now, still not over it.

It took the three of us almost 2 weeks to get over it. The symptoms kept changing every 1-2 days (sore throat, then harsh cough, then chest/lung pain, then gas and intestinal issues, then headache, then back to coughing); had a false "I'm all better now" moment halfway thru, then Phase 2 kicked in. On top of which, I don't get sick much, and when I do, it's usually very mild and I'm over it very quickly.

So, I have a hypothesis. Thanks to all of the social distancing, OCD hand-washing, masking, etc for the past 18 months, "regular" colds/flus/germs have probably been going through some pretty extreme evolutionary stresses, just like Covid ... and are probably mutating/evolving a lot, just like Covid. Except all the researchers and specialists are pretty much completely preoccupied with Covid research/work, so no one has been paying much attention to all the other day-to-day respiratory illnesses.

I've seen a fair bit of news about how colds/flus have been much less common of late, due to the Covid-precautionary measures, but I have not seen any research or discussion about how those measures might be impacting other non-Covid illnesses.

Thoughts?

Sorry if this comes out as a stream of possibly unrelated thoughts. I hope it makes sense anyway. If it doesn’t, or does it poorly, then I’m probably already insane.

I’ve been lying to everyone about my situation with regard to university. I didn’t use to be a blatant liar like I am now, but things have gone out of control. I think the last time I actually showed up for an exam was more than a year ago, maybe two. Since then, I’ve been faking going to exams, only to tell my parents and friends I had failed later.

Despite being in my twenties I’m acting like a child who doesn’t want to go to school, or doesn’t want to take responsibilities in general. There was a time when I genuinely liked what I’m studying at university, but I don’t know if it still holds true now. It’s been a long time since my first year at university and I feel like I’ve lost direction (I should have graduated years ago). Actually, I don’t know what I like anymore, because I don’t have strong opinions on anything. I’m in a loop of denial of my own situation and pleasure-seeking behavior (doom-scrolling, porn, etc.).

I’ve been thinking about suicide for years, but the fact that I don’t act on it makes me think I’m yet another attention seeking person who’s just pretending to be sick in order to avoid responsibilities. It’s difficult to understand what’s truly going on in my head. It’s very possible I’m lying to myself. Suicide is scary, especially because I have no access to methods that are simultaneously quick, painless and lethal. Though it’s possible that I didn’t research enough. Sometimes I think that If I had a gun, I would have already killed myself. The reality is that survival instinct is very strong, and so is the suffering of those left behind.

I often think about life as a big scam: you don’t ask to be born, someone else decides that for you. But what if I realize I don’t want to live any more later in life? I’m literally stuck here because killing myself would make other people suffer. Ironically, it would make the very same people who put me here suffer. It’s absurd that suicide is regarded as selfish, when the only selfish act I see here is giving birth to someone who may not want to live. You grow up surrounded by love and stuff to ease your journey into adulthood, only to realize life’s been a joke all along.

Maybe I’m just an undisciplined whiner: I’m unable to stop eating junk food, procrastinating, or watching (problematic) porn, among other things. There are short virtuously-lived periods during which I sleep and eat well, exercise and read regularly, interrupted by long, dark times during which I’m the worst, letting go of everything. Then there’s a whole bunch of regrets that keep cropping up in my mind (and which happens to increase over time), causing me distress in totally unrelated situations, for example when trying to focus on studying.

I should also mention that I feel like I’m losing my sense of morality lately. Since I started blatantly lying about my situation it seems like a line has been crossed, and the more I go on with life, the more moral lines get crossed. I also have the feeling that there’s no going back from this, similar to the mantra “once an addict, always an addict”, or the opening of Pandora’s box, so to speak. I feel stupid trying to convey some meaning with such poor examples, but I hope you get it. To be really honest, I’ve never been that virtuous, since I have a fair record of bad things I regret having done, especially in my high school years. It’s possible that I’m just noticing it more now.

Yeah, I know: I should see a therapist (am doing), practice meditation (kinda did, want to retry that), yada yada yada.

Again, maybe I’m just whining. After all, I don’t live in a poor third world country. I don’t have any chronic disease (that I know of). I didn’t have a miserable childhood. I consider myself privileged, if you ask me. Maybe I am the result of contemporary society: if I were a peasant in the Middle Ages, I wouldn’t even have the time to dwell on such things. Granted, I would be unhappy in other (probably worse) ways.

Maybe it’s just that being a loser is easier.

Wish you happiness.

I mentioned in this weeks "What are you playing" thread that I'm starting Fallout: New Vegas. I'm really digging the game, but I'm also having a hard time playing it, mentally.

I've got something of a phobia when it comes to nuclear radiation, specifically in the context of, say, a nuclear apocalypse or meltdown. The issue is that any amount of knowledge about nuclear safety doesn't help, the very topic causes anxiety. I use the term "phobia" because I haven't got any rational reason to respond this strongly to this concept, especially since like most people I'll never actually be exposed to dangerous amounts of ionizing radiation. Surprisingly, I have no problems getting x-rays.

The specific issue I'm having is with the entire setting of Fallout: New Vegas, and the rest of the series, being in a post nuclear apocalypse setting. I get extremely anxious when my Geiger counter goes off, even if it isn't affecting my RAD levels in-game. I flinch when I do something that increases my RAD level like eating or drinking new items, and am paralyzed when it comes to consuming anything that boosts the RAD level, even after reading about the system and how it works. I was wound so tight tonight I blacked out for a short moment when a robot came around a corner and surprised me. I'm not screaming or anything, and it's not giving me nightmares or anything, I'm just panicking even just walking peacefully around the world dealing with minor enemy encounters.

My current solution is short frequent exposure to the game at appropriate times of the day/night. I want to play this series and at least finish the main stories of the games.

Does anybody have any similar experiences, and any advice on dealing with this fear and anxiety? I don't see not playing as an option simply because I'm enjoying the hell out of the game, so I'm trying to find a healthy way forward with this.

EDIT: More for posterity if somebody stumbles into this.

Radiophobia was a part of it, but the other part was a sensitivity to sound. The sound design of the game messes with me, and causes me to have a panic attack. It does not happen in FO4, but does in FO3, which uses similar techniques. It doesn't happen with TES4: Oblivion, which is on the same engine from a similar era, but the sounds are different. I don't know what it is, but it did result in me ultimately abandoning the early Fallout series. I can't do it, the joy doesn't outcompete the dread and panic.

This will probably make some people uncomfortable and even angry, but it needs to be said.

Adoption isn't happily ever after.

The media loves to portray it that way, especially for foster kids. Everyone loves the fairly tale story about the poor abused kids that get rescued by the selfless hero foster parents who then adopt them and everything is all good after that. I mean, the kids now have loving parents and a stable home. That's all they need right?

People love a happy ending. But fairy tales aren’t real and life isn’t that simple. Adoption is messy, and I don't mean the legal process, I mean the actual adoption itself. Adoptive parents aren't selfless heroes, they are regular flawed people just like everyone else, they just happened to choose to adopt.

These kids have been through bad things that are beyond the imagination of most people who don't have experience with the kids themselves. I hear it all the time. People say "They just need a good loving home". Loving and stable homes are great, but they don't make those bad things go away. Even if the adoptive parents were perfect (which they definitely aren't) these kids will be dealing with their trauma for the rest of their lives.

And for these kids trauma isn't simple like so many people assume it is. It isn't just bad dreams and sadness. It's rage. It’s frequent meltdowns over the smallest things. Sometimes it’s hurting pets, or even other kids. Sometimes it's trying to burn the house down. Other times it’s stealing from kids at school. Sometimes it’s grade schoolers finding ways to look at porn. Sometimes it’s trying to molest other kids. This doesn’t describe all kids from foster care. It’s not meant to scare you. It’s meant to show you that there’s more than what you see on the outside.

For these kids meltdowns have a completely different meaning than for most other kids. A meltdown isn't crying and getting angry for 10 or 15 minutes. It can be hours. Hours of true screaming. Hours of punching doors and walls. Or punching us. Or hurting themselves. Total non-compliance. It's a total inability for them to calm down at all. Sometimes we have to physically restrain them for safety reasons. Usually, they have to physically exhaust themselves before they finally begin to come down.

And it's not their fault.

And we parents aren't perfect either. Sometimes we scream back at them. Sometimes we escalate the meltdown even more. Sometimes we restrain when it's not necessary. Sometimes we just layer on consequence after consequence, not because it's helping, but because we are mad and caught in a power struggle.

We take them to doctor appointments. We adjust meds. We get to counseling every week. We literally pull them out of public school because they can't function there. We are usually exhausted. We are often hopeless. We fear they will never have a normal childhood. We fear that they won't have a good life as adults.

We can never replace their birth parents. They will always miss them, no matter how bad the abuse was. They will mourn what could have been. They will mourn what should have been.

They point that hurt and anger at their adoptive parents. They say they hate us. They say they will kill us.

We aren't a fairy tale family. We aren't some success story about the power of love.

We were the safest option in a bad situation.

We will always love them as our kids. We will always strive to be there for them, to support them, to give them what they need to have whatever healing is possible.

For them though this will never be as good as having birth parents that were safe and loving in the first place. This will never compare with what should have been.

I'm constantly torn between things. It's like I never have a strong opinion or stance on things. It's like I don't have an identity or values. This has become difficult to sustain mentally.

Example #1. I despise Instagram because of the way it transformed people's behavior and because of its privacy abuses. For these reasons, I refuse to have an Instagram account and I don't participate in it. At the same time, Instagram is admittedly essential in today's social life, so I feel I am missing out.

Example #2. Sometime in the past, I got interested in climate change. I read books, papers, articles... You name it. I changed my lifestyle to better align with the values I had internalized. I started preaching others about the real threat of climate change, about the need for action by everyone. Now, years later, I don't care about all that any more. I believe doom is inevitable, and that there's nothing we can do about it. So I stopped pretending.

Example #3. I've been an open source enthusiast for quite some time now. This means I run open source software wherever I can. This idea got to the point where I refused to use any software that was not open source, much like a vegan does with food. No WhatsApp, Spotify, Microsoft Office, ...basically any popular software that everybody uses. Over time, I got tired, and stopped caring about open source that much. I'm even thinking about going all-in Apple now (yes, one of the worst enemies of open source you can think of).

You should have a general idea of how it works by now. One day I'm a diehard Linux enthusiast, the next I don't care at all. One day I delete my social media accounts, the next I create them anew. Not literally the next day, but there's always an internal conflict or a straight U-turn with regard to what I believe in, or what I stand for.

Especially examples #2 and #3 could be generalized to any hobby, habit or interest I pick up. They eventually fade out or are replaced by other things. Things I strongly believe in suddenly lose their meaning or value.

I don't know who I am, or what I stand for. What's wrong with me?

_{I'm not even sure I'm saying something that makes sense. Maybe I'm just conflating totally unrelated issues about myself in one single post.}

Is this what therapy looks like for other people?

I can't tell you how often I've come to the edge of sharing the following experiences--destructive, traumatic, bizarre: all the opposites of what therapy is supposed to be. For months after the latest incident, I've needed to tell someone. I've struggled so hard with life and with putting things into writing, typing and erasing H-E-L- into the title field on Tildes over and over. Where do you go when therapists are the problem? Then, this morning, I woke up with this idea of squeezing the facts into a lightly comedic lyric. Try as I might, I guess I can't deny my métier. (I can clarify what gets lost in the parody.)

Sing along if you know the tune and have a high tolerance for aural ipecac from the 1980s.

To all the shrinks I’ve known before,
I was ten and your help I begged for.
You said, “Those aren’t real issues,
Please spare some of my tissues.”
You were a shrink I’ve known before.
To all the shrinks who somewhat tried,
Who thumbed their whiskers as I cried,
One had a light-bar toy
And called me a scared boy.
He was a shrink I’ve known before.

The winds of fashion keep on blowing,
With each conference you attend.
The only constant is me going.
What won’t I do for friends!

To the shrink who said, “talk speedier,”
Then stalked my social media,
You came to session with the flu,
And so I got it too.
Now you're a shrink I’ve known before.
One hid his grins with coffee mugs,
While second-guessing my psych drugs.
He phoned the very dude
With whom I had a feud,
Now he’s just a shrink I’ve known before.

The pandemic brought us video,
Any doctor can be seen!
But it’s the same as ab initio,
Behind or just off screen.

To the one who should have HIPAA claims,
Whose spouse listened outside the frame,
I heard him eating lunch,
But you dismissed my hunch,
Now you’re a shrink I’ve known before.
To all the shrinks I’ve known before,
Who apparently could not close doors,
You broke my fragile trust,
So say goodbye I must,
To all the shrinks I’ve known before.