With the sad death of NHL's Rick Rypien I find myself contemplating the illness of depression once again. 

I have recently rejected my diagnoses of #depression and #anxiety as 'myth', preferring to believe that if I want to stop suffering from these things, all I have to do is try harder.  There IS truth to this, believe it or not.  New research coming out of universities today suggests that the vast majority of people who are diagnosed with depressive illness or anxiety disorder do NOT actually suffer from an illness, and in fact have only been conditioned to behave in these ways. Therefore instead of medication, these people need re-conditioning.  It is also widely hypothesised now that putting these people on medications that 'control' their symptoms only keeps them sick because it leads them to believe they have an illness that is being kept under control by medication, and thus they do not put the onus on themselves to try to change their thought patterns.  In reality they could 'heal' themselves with the right kind of behavioural conditioning, but the very belief that they are sick is what is keeping them sick.

However, I don't have a therapist or anyone in my life to help me with my re-conditioning so all I'm doing is continuing to suffer... And now that I've rejected my diagnoses as being an actual illness, I blame myself even more for how badly my life has gone down hill.  It's a double-edged sword, you see:  If I blame the illness for ruining my life, then that takes the responsibility off me.  This is good because guilt is just an added weight to the already heavy weight of depression and anxiety.  This is bad because when I don't blame myself, then it feels like I don't have any control in making it better.  If I reject the diagnoses of 'illness', then this is all my own fault, something I've voluntarily done to myself.  This is good because it means I should have control over fixing it.  This is bad because it increases the guilt, AND on top of that when I feel like I have NO control over my own thoughts and emotions it has to mean I'm just not trying... which further increases the guilt.

In recent days and weeks I've found myself floating in and out of #suicidal depression.  I do not believe that I am a danger to myself, because there are certain people in my life who I care about MORE than myself and who I KNOW would be severely mentally damaged in the wake my suicide.  I stay alive to protect these few.  If it weren't for them, however, I would have been dead last week. Some of you reading this now would likely just be getting back from my funeral.  If only poor Rick had people in his life like these few that I have, some of whom have outright told me that if I ever even threaten suicide again they'll never forgive me and I believe them... So for you, you know who you are, I'm NOT threatening suicide! Ha ha... What a horrible thing to joke about, but it's better to joke about it than.... Well, you get the point.

I have spent the vast majority of my time over the last week or two either crying or sleeping.  I feel so lonely I could die, yet I cringe at the thought of someone hanging out with me just because they feel sorry for me.  And with the way I'm feeling right now, it wouldn't matter WHAT reason someone gives me for wanting to hang out with me, I will BELIEVE it's secretly because they're worried about me which will only make me even more anxious and bitter.  Not only that, but in my current state-of-mind I'd be very boring to chill with, so for someone to chill with me right now they'd HAVE to be doing it out of concern because it certainly couldn't be for my thrilling (non-existent) conversational skills.

So... Why did I start writing this blog post anyway?  Oh right, it was because I read an article about Rick, which had a link to a mental health blog that lead me to an article on bullying and its long-term effect on a person's mental health.  Right.  Bullying.  Well, I've ranted and raved about how badly and systematically I've been bullied and rejected throughout my whole life, by everyone from my peers to my teachers.  I mean, put two and two together... Kicked out of public washrooms as a kid because the ladies thought I was a little boy who was just being mischievious by going into the women's washroom.  Called "He" and "Him" by teachers who didn't actually have me in their class.  Asked out by boys, only to have them run away screaming and laughing if I dared believe they were actually sincere (no FUCKING WONDER I can't believe a compliment to this day.  I ALWAYS think there's a secret punchline somewhere, or at the very least the only reason someone's complimenting me is because they feel sorry for me.  I have NEVER believed a compliment to be sincere in my entire adult life).  The "friends" on my street who didn't go to my school pretending not to know me when their other school friends came around.  Being told I'm not allowed to go to my neighbor's birthday party because she didn't want her other friends to know she was friends with me.  Having the person who I thought was one of my best friends suddenly start going to my school, and as soon as he was there he pretended not to know me.  I had been so excited to have someone who was cool who thought I was cool go to my school... I was no naive.  I should have known better.  Constant... Consistent... Rejection.  At every single turn throughout my entire life.  Why do I have low self-esteem?  Riiiiight.  Makes sense.

What doesn't make sense is why I can't overcome this.  I see the patterns, so why can't I just turn it around and say "my self-esteem has been squashed throughout the years by other people, so I'm taking it back now"?  I don't know.  I do know that I can't stand myself.  It's like deep down I believe every mean thing that anyone has ever said to me, and don't believe any nice thing that anyone has ever said to me.  Maybe because SO many of the nice things people have said to me over the years have just been lip-service, because they felt sorry for me, whereas the cruelty was honest.  I mean, "how can a billion Chinese people be wrong" (that's a Lost Boys quote, look it up).  If SO MANY PEOPLE thought I was garbage, and only a relatively small few have believed otherwise (and the majority of those have had a bias in believing otherwise because they're FAMILY), then the consensus is that I am garbage. 

I KNOW logically that I am not garbage, but I don't believe it.  My heart doesn't believe it.  My soul doesn't believe it.  I know that everywhere I go people either see me as fat and ugly, or they don't see me at all.  I know this, because even to this day 9 out of 10 people who I meet either have no recollection of me or call me Jennifer the next time they see me.  What does that mean?  It means they didn't pay attention to me when they met me because I'm not worth paying attention to.  I'm not worth committing to memory.  It is especially clear when I am in a group and we meet a new person together... and then that person remembers the whole group EXCEPT me.  And they are right... Those of you who have a bias will argue that they are wrong, but you're biased.  Trust me, I've done some serious soul-searching and I've come to the conclusion that there really isn't anything worthwhile about me.  I don't know how to hold a conversation.  I am now in a position of unemployment and unemployability and have no money so I can't participate in any social activities even if I was capable of holding a conversation.  Fuck, even McDonald's and Tim Horton's haven't wanted to hire me and they'll hire pretty much ANYONE.  I mean, have you ever had an issue with the IDIOTS they put in the drive-thru windows?  They'll hire complete morons but they wont hire ME.  I'm 31, with no job, no job prospects, no education and no way to GET an education because I can't get a loan because I'm in collections with several different collection agencies.  I panic at the idea of leaving the house to go job hunting.  I panic at the idea of talking to strangers.  My social anxiety is quickly strengthening and turning into a social phobia.  My agoraphobia may seem like it waxes and wanes but as time progresses it only gets stronger everytime it cycles back around.

I am slipping.  I am losing my foothold on reality.  I fucking hate myself.  I've tried "liking" myself for years, in the hope that one day I'd eventually come to really believe it.  I almost did for awhile there, too.  Then I lost my job because of my anxiety disorder, and then losing my job lost me my fiance.  Then I was forced to move back into my parents house.  Then I realized that liking myself was a big joke... I kinda feel stupid for having liked myself for that brief while.

I wondered... Why am I so unable to hold-on to any kind of self-worth?  I mean, I have moments where I like myself.  I know logically that there are good things about me... So why on earth can I not live my life with any internal sense of value?

 The answer?  31 years of conditioning.  My parents aren't going to like this, but I gotta clean out my closet... and the only way to do it effectively, is to do it publicly.

 I am angry...

... with my parents for never paying attention or supervising us.  For the fact that I was able to leave for a whole weekend when I was 12 and when I got home early on the monday morning just as my dad was getting out of bed, his words were "did you shit the bed? you're up early"... they hadn't even noticed I was gone.  If I'd been kidnapped I'd have been long dead before they even realized I was missing.

 ... with my parents for never taking an interest in extra-curricular activities.  I wanted to play soccer, and join brownies, and my parents' response was "but that would mean I'd have to get up early and drive you around to all these activities, no way".  Watching TV was more important.

 ... with my parents for never taking any interest in my education.  I never had to do homework.  In fact, the only time my parents made me do homework was the night I got a homework note from school.  After that night they went back to not caring.  They never went to parent-teacher nights because it interrupted watching "M*A*S*H" and "Nightcourt".

 ... with my mother for constantly telling me that school was a joke, that teachers are just over-paid babysitters, that it's not necessary to do well in school or even to finish school in order to do well in life.

 ... with one of my cousins (you know who you are), because I believed he was my best friend until he started going to my school, at which time he discovered how unpopular and bullied I was and decided it was in his best interest to ignore me and pretend not to know me, and to join in when his friends decided to call me names.

 ... with the kids on my street for only being friends with me when other kids weren't around.  For refusing to invite me to their birthday parties because they didn't want their school friends to know they were friends with me.

 ... with my mother for MAKING me look like a boy, and for NEVER correcting people when they mistook me for one.

  *example:  A man comes to the front door and says "let me shake your hand young man", while she was standing right there.  Her response?  "Shake the nice man's hand, Jessy".

  *example:  I asked my mom if I could please grow my hair a little longer and wear more girl-type clothes and she got so angry that she made me put on the frilliest dress in my closet, some stupid communion crap, and sent me to school in that saying "you wanna look like a girl, fine, here you go!"...  That was the day I learned what the word drag-queen meant, cuz that's what all the kids were calling me.

 ... with Mrs. Marianelli my grade five teacher, who laughed every time one of the kids in my class made fun of me, and even added some jabs of her own.

 ... with Mrs. Williamson, my grade 7 and 8 teacher, who told me I didn't deserve math help because I wasn't trying... How is asking for help not trying?

 ... with every bully who ever kicked me, pushed me down, stole pieces of my bike, spat on me, called me names, or asked me out just to make fun of me for being dumb enough to believe they were being serious.

 ... with every teacher who saw the bullying and did absolutely nothing about it.

 ... with Mrs. Kraus, my grade 6 teacher, who allowed Stephen to bully me mercilessly, but when I finally retaliated with some mean words to him, she made ME appologize to HIM, IN FRONT OF THE WHOLE CLASS.

 ... with whoever taught me about sex at the age of 3 or 4.  I may not remember who you are, but I know it happened and I HATE you for it.

 ... with myself for being weak enough to allow it all to affect my life so drastically.

 ... with my grandmother, who preferred my sister so consistently that on MY birthday she gave HER a diamond ring, and then went and dug around in the trunk of her car looking for something to give me.

 ... with Paul, my ex-boyfriend who, for five years, belittled me and bullied me and convinced me that he was doing it for my own good.  Because I needed to grow "a thicker skin" in his oppinion.  And for convincing me that as much as I might not like being with him, he was the best that someone like me could ever hope to get, so I should consider myself lucky to have him.

 ... with Paul, for raping me... and with myself for believing I deserved it.

 ... with my cousins who, on Christmas Eve at Uncle Reece's old house, conspired to go out tobogganing "quietly so Jess doesn't notice we're leaving".  You didn't know I was just around the corner, did you?  Well I was, and that scar is very deep.

 ... with my mother for telling me that her and my dad's marrital problems were my fault, because I dressed depressingly.

 ... with my father for blaming my mother for the fact that I was "useless, and never going to amount to anything" ...that is a direct quote.

 ... with my father for pulling me aside and telling me to never have children because children were a sure-fire way to guarantee that you will never find happiness in your life.  Thanks dad, I'm glad we were such a joy.

 ... with my father for telling me that it would be a waste of time and money to go to school for anything creative, and that if I had a brain in my head I'd learn a trade (even if I hate it).

 ... with you (you know who you are) for thinking my mental illness is not an illness and that I'm just not trying hard enough.

 ... with myself for STILL not being able to overcome it, and for STILL being so fucking weak.

 These are a few examples.  I don't know if I feel better for spilling it, or worse.  I feel kinda like an asshole for cleaning out my closet like this, but I always feel like an asshole so what else is new?  Ah, fuck it... I'm hitting post and once I do, there'll be no turning back.  Bite me if you don't like it.

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Running has been an especially important part of my life.  Not like the kind of running you do to get or stay in shape, oh no, I am definately not in shape, but the kind of running you do when you just can't seem to handle facing your fears.  Where has running gotten me over the years?  Well, I've come to realize that as hard and as fast as I run, what I'm running from is always right there with me.  I have been trying to escape myself, and much to my shagrin this has proven an impossible feat.

So what now? 

I am in therapy for mental illness.  I suffer from depression, anxiety, panic, fear-induced-paralysis, and if you ask me there's also a little "borderline personality disorder" in there too.  The worst thing I suffer from is a lack of self-esteem.  I don't think a lack of self-esteem is actually a mental illness, but it definately contributes to the difficulty of fighting mental illness. 

How do I escape myself?

It's not possible.  Really the goal should be to learn to accept myself, and love myself, therefore eliminating the need to escape.  Unfortunately, I've recently come to the conclusion that I don't think it's possible for me to see value in myself yet, as I don't actually know what that would look like.  How can I strive for value, when I don't know what would make me a valuable person?  What does that look like?  What is value?  No one has ever just loved me for who I am... Every friend or boyfriend I've ever had has given me a proverbial list of things that will make me more valuable to them and to the rest of the world.  They always mask this sentiment by saying things like "I want you to stop being one way and start being another way for your own good".  Of course, most of them have been right.  Except for Paul, he was just an abusive douchebag.  Other than him, though, my parents, friends and lovers have been right... I need to change myself in order to have value, not just for them but for myself.  But how?  I don't know.  I've spent my entire life, from my earliest childhood memories, wishing I had value but knowing I didn't, and having this belief re-enforced by the emotionally abusive/destructive way I was treated by certain loved-ones and supposed mentors.  How do you erase an entire lifetime of conditioning?  Is it conditioning, or are all my problems simply due to my mental illness?

Is there a cure for my disorders?

No.  This has been my gratest disappointment since seeking help for my illness.  There is no cure, and there is no guaranteed treatment either.  Recovery is not about being cured, it's about learning to navigate the illness and live a "normal" life with it and inspite of it.  It's about recognizing that there will always be ups and downs, that the illness will always be there even if symptoms don't show up for long periods of time.  It's about knowing what signs to look for so you can nip relapses in the butt before they take hold and shut you down.  It's also about not beating yourself up if you do get shut down, don't dwell on what went wrong or why you "let it" take you down again, just focus on getting back up and give yourself time to do so.

But when you hate yourself, how do you focus on getting better?  What if you don't think you deserve to get better?  What if you don't believe it's possible for someone as useless and dumb as you to get better?  If I've always been this way, what is "better"?  What does "better" even look like?  What if you can't help but think that maybe you're just clinging to the idea of mental illness because at least then it's not your fault you're so useless?  Is it just an excuse? 

What if you believe that maybe the people in your life would really have been better off had you never been born?  Do these good people deserve to have to constantly put up with my negativity and depression?  I know certain people avoid me now because I guess I must be a downer.  I think often of just running away and starting a new life anonymously on the streets of some distant city...

But everywhere I go, there I fucking am.