CosmicHippo
Member
This is my first post since 2014, somewhere around 4 years ago. A lot has happened, and life has gotten better, but just recently I had my second suicide attempt. In this post, I want to tell you all a story, and if you are patient, it may shed some perspective to those of you who are struggling with depression, anxiety, self-doubts, social skills, and so on. Now I feel happy with my life, I have a future, a group of friends, a job, and this semester I will be graduating with a Bachelors in Philosophy, but I still have my demons. It never goes away, but life does get better.
Even since I was in fifth grade or so, I have struggled with depression. In high school, when I had a psychotic episode that lasted for the greater half of a year, the diagnosis was bipolar disorder. I was in and out of school. For a good five years or so, from the second half of high school to the time of my 21st birthday, I was a prisoner of my moods and mostly housebound. I tried to go back to school, but every time it ended in frustration, tears, and so on. One unhappy consequence of my disorder has been three hospitalizations through the time that I have lived with it. I could not even get past the job interview at a fastfood restuarant that I applied to, because my social skills were so off-kilter and my behavior outlandish.
Finally in the spring of 2014, I took two classes at a community college – success! I was excited to be back in school and this time I was able to stick it out. I was still constantly depressed that I didn’t have any friends. I had lost contact with all my high school friends, and I was trying to relearn how to interact with others and function as a normal adult human being. My social skills were awful. I was not shy, nor unpleasant, just incredibly out of touch. I would say things that would border on sexual harrassment, hug people randomly, talk constantly and to everyone, and it was no wonder that I couldn’t make friends.
I was able to go full-time in the fall of 2014, when I continued my education at a community college. I was largely driven by this naiive daydream that I wanted to teach English as a second language in France. Despite my motivation, my interactions hadn’t improved much. I did not pick up on simple social cues and I was very insecure about what others thought of me. I cried all the time, because I felt so lonely and desperate for friends. I remember looking around at others and wondering how they were able to make friend so easily, and why it was such a struggle for me. Over and over again I would dwell on how it must be my fault that I didn’t have friends and that there was something wrong with me. Surely if no one wanted to be friends with me, it must be my fault. Or so I thought at the time.
The spring of 2015, I switched to a new school with a new major. Philosophy! It was very hard in the beginning, and everyone else seemed so much smarter than I was. I didn’t feel like I fit in in the department. It was small and everyone knew everyone, so there much not much room to mingle beyond the people I met in the philosophy lounge. My social circle had not expanded much either. It was around this time that my loneliness and depression led me to call the suicide hotline for the first time. Then more loneliness, and another phone call. In total, I probably called the hotline 10+ times that spring.
Over the summer of 2015, I got a job at the schoo l library. Hot dog, I thought. Full-time school and a job. How about that? I actually held this job for over a year or so. Things stayed more or less the same into the fall. In the spring of 2016, things got better! I made friends! I had a new best friend even. I hated him when I first met him in January 2015. He seemed like an arrogant ****. When ended up becoming buddies. I love him a lot, and we are still good friends. I remember on Wednesday nights I would come out to philosophy club and at a packed table, there was one spot left, and it was next to my friend. God, I miss that. But at the end of the spring 2016 semester, I had a mental breakdown. I had four final papers and four final exams for five classes. I was also heartbroken. I fell in love with a friend and she ended up dating my new best friend. The stress of school with this heartbreak was enough to destroy me and it took almost an entire year to recover. Around this time, I also started showing previously unseen symptoms of obssesive-compulsive disorder. I had these anxiety attacks where I couldn’t move my body. I remember being stuck in a chair unable to move my legs for hours. The stress and anxiety were that bad that I expeienced them physically. Over time, I forgave my friend and decided not to abandon the friendship, and we sorted it out.
In 2017, things turned around! I wrote a paper on the philosopy of loneliness and it was accepted into a professional philosophy conference! I also started doing paid research in an artificial intelligence labratory with my friend, where I presented my work at another professional conference. But I did have a bad night where my depression came on, and I attempted suicide. I was tempted to try again, but my friend talked me out of it. He saved me. Things were still rough, but life was good overall. I had friends, then met friends through friends, and then a new friend through a friend through a friend. I went to parties and so on. Now at the moment, I am applying to master’s programs in philosophy in Europe and Canada. I am still submitting abstracts and papers to conferences and for publications. I have friends to rely on and I’m not lonely anymore. Hell, the university even paid a different friend and me money to present our papers at a conference in St Louis. Soooo much fun.
But a few days ago, tragedy struck again and I tried to jump off a bridge into an icy river. Without warning, I had a bad day. I would have jumped if my dad hadn’t chased me and pulled me off. But I am better AGAIN, and I am entering an intensive out-patient group therapy. So no, life isn’t perfect. But damn it, I am glad to be alive and I love the life that I have. Above all, I feel grateful to be living the life that I am.
Even since I was in fifth grade or so, I have struggled with depression. In high school, when I had a psychotic episode that lasted for the greater half of a year, the diagnosis was bipolar disorder. I was in and out of school. For a good five years or so, from the second half of high school to the time of my 21st birthday, I was a prisoner of my moods and mostly housebound. I tried to go back to school, but every time it ended in frustration, tears, and so on. One unhappy consequence of my disorder has been three hospitalizations through the time that I have lived with it. I could not even get past the job interview at a fastfood restuarant that I applied to, because my social skills were so off-kilter and my behavior outlandish.
Finally in the spring of 2014, I took two classes at a community college – success! I was excited to be back in school and this time I was able to stick it out. I was still constantly depressed that I didn’t have any friends. I had lost contact with all my high school friends, and I was trying to relearn how to interact with others and function as a normal adult human being. My social skills were awful. I was not shy, nor unpleasant, just incredibly out of touch. I would say things that would border on sexual harrassment, hug people randomly, talk constantly and to everyone, and it was no wonder that I couldn’t make friends.
I was able to go full-time in the fall of 2014, when I continued my education at a community college. I was largely driven by this naiive daydream that I wanted to teach English as a second language in France. Despite my motivation, my interactions hadn’t improved much. I did not pick up on simple social cues and I was very insecure about what others thought of me. I cried all the time, because I felt so lonely and desperate for friends. I remember looking around at others and wondering how they were able to make friend so easily, and why it was such a struggle for me. Over and over again I would dwell on how it must be my fault that I didn’t have friends and that there was something wrong with me. Surely if no one wanted to be friends with me, it must be my fault. Or so I thought at the time.
The spring of 2015, I switched to a new school with a new major. Philosophy! It was very hard in the beginning, and everyone else seemed so much smarter than I was. I didn’t feel like I fit in in the department. It was small and everyone knew everyone, so there much not much room to mingle beyond the people I met in the philosophy lounge. My social circle had not expanded much either. It was around this time that my loneliness and depression led me to call the suicide hotline for the first time. Then more loneliness, and another phone call. In total, I probably called the hotline 10+ times that spring.
Over the summer of 2015, I got a job at the schoo l library. Hot dog, I thought. Full-time school and a job. How about that? I actually held this job for over a year or so. Things stayed more or less the same into the fall. In the spring of 2016, things got better! I made friends! I had a new best friend even. I hated him when I first met him in January 2015. He seemed like an arrogant ****. When ended up becoming buddies. I love him a lot, and we are still good friends. I remember on Wednesday nights I would come out to philosophy club and at a packed table, there was one spot left, and it was next to my friend. God, I miss that. But at the end of the spring 2016 semester, I had a mental breakdown. I had four final papers and four final exams for five classes. I was also heartbroken. I fell in love with a friend and she ended up dating my new best friend. The stress of school with this heartbreak was enough to destroy me and it took almost an entire year to recover. Around this time, I also started showing previously unseen symptoms of obssesive-compulsive disorder. I had these anxiety attacks where I couldn’t move my body. I remember being stuck in a chair unable to move my legs for hours. The stress and anxiety were that bad that I expeienced them physically. Over time, I forgave my friend and decided not to abandon the friendship, and we sorted it out.
In 2017, things turned around! I wrote a paper on the philosopy of loneliness and it was accepted into a professional philosophy conference! I also started doing paid research in an artificial intelligence labratory with my friend, where I presented my work at another professional conference. But I did have a bad night where my depression came on, and I attempted suicide. I was tempted to try again, but my friend talked me out of it. He saved me. Things were still rough, but life was good overall. I had friends, then met friends through friends, and then a new friend through a friend through a friend. I went to parties and so on. Now at the moment, I am applying to master’s programs in philosophy in Europe and Canada. I am still submitting abstracts and papers to conferences and for publications. I have friends to rely on and I’m not lonely anymore. Hell, the university even paid a different friend and me money to present our papers at a conference in St Louis. Soooo much fun.
But a few days ago, tragedy struck again and I tried to jump off a bridge into an icy river. Without warning, I had a bad day. I would have jumped if my dad hadn’t chased me and pulled me off. But I am better AGAIN, and I am entering an intensive out-patient group therapy. So no, life isn’t perfect. But damn it, I am glad to be alive and I love the life that I have. Above all, I feel grateful to be living the life that I am.
