The antidepressant must be kicking in. I should be in the throes of a full-on anxiety attack (if the last few weeks have been any indication of a pattern), but instead I’m just curled up trying to block out the dull, maddening pain of accepting the inevitable. that’s the trouble right now: I’m not lost in some groundless depression that will just drift away with the ingestion of a few happy pills. No, I find myself deeply, deeply unhappy again, perhaps moreso than ever before, considering how much hurt I’ve been dredging up once and for all. In a way, I’m fighting the medication: I desperately crave numbness, a release from the acute emotional tortures I keep feeling, and wallowing in a depressive fog is the closest I ever feel to numb. I can sort out why some things upset me and how those things tie to other things, but it doesn’t change the fact that there are things staring me right in the face and shouting in my ears that make me feel miserable in a very real way.
This, of course, has all been very counterproductive to my master plan of nobly facing my demons and seeking occasional guidance without being a burden to anyone. As far as I can tell, I’m worrying the crap out of some people and becoming an unwelcome burden to others. Or another, at least. I can see that I’m less cheerful in public that I can usually muster the energy for. I can see that the effort to catalogue and battle the demons is taking a toll on me personally, and on my life in general.
And the demon leading the pack lately? Yup, that ol’ devil called low self-esteem. You know the one: it’s everybody’s favorite. The funny thing is, I don’t really think I’m all that bad. I don’t think I’m so bad looking, and I’m clever and often quite witty. I’m open to new ideas and I’m considerate and I have a lot of interesting stories to tell. I’m a good kisser and, when the chemistry is right, I’m a lot of fun in the sack. The thing that gets me is why none of these nor any other virtues and charms ever seem to do the trick when I really want them to. People swear up and down that I’m a great catch, but the positive reinforcement doesn’t come. Quite the contrary, in fact. I’m just the passing fancy, the second best, the good personality, and just the friend, if even that.
Maybe it’s shame more than low self-esteem. Though I can admit that I’ve got plenty of good stuff to offer, I also have to face up to being damaged goods. It’s easy enough to whine, “Wah, nobody loves me,” and blame it on fickle tastes and too much competition, but I’ve been on the other end of the equation enough to know it’s not that simple and sometimes feelings just don’t last. No, it’s the real stuff that upsets me the most: being positive, being prone to depression, getting so needy when it takes a hold of me, feeling the need to aggressively make things right when they go wrong, being too fast for the clean-cut guys yet too clean-cut for the fast guys. This is the stuff that makes me admit to myself now and then, in my smallest, neediest voice, “Why should anyone pick me when it would be so much easier not to bother?” And it’s so easy to listen to that little voice when I appear to screw things up the few times they really count.
just a drop in the rainbarrel, so to speak, but there’s a theory that thoughts control emotions
so when you get the urge to go on the personal tangent against yourself
declare what you want to be instead of what you are
even the bible Let the weak say I Am Strong
*HUGS* *HUGS SOME MORE*
call or email. Open up. I tried. I love you. Need contact. xox
Dan, Where did this low self esteem come from? You have always been a wonderful son with amazing gifts and talents. Pay attention to those who love you. You are a very special person, an amazing person with so much to give to the world. Don’t be discouraged and have hope. Take care of yourself and look to the positives in your life. You have a host of friends and family who would do anything for you. YOU ARE LOVED!!!!!! What more can I say? How can we help?
“You are a fabulous, wonderful human being. And remember, I’ve known you longer than your daughter.”
Perhaps the effect of this quote is lessened because I’m not 6’2″ plus 18″ of beehive holding a cigarette, a bottle of vodka, or wearing Gaultier slingbacks.
(Of course, I would, if you thought it might be helpful.)
just a friend? did i read that right? just a friend? well hell, that’s just the greatest, hardest, best thing there is to be. good true friends are what make us who we are. not romantic involvements. just remember that.
I don’t know you that well and vice-versa…I just wanted to add my two cents since I’ve now been following your story for a couple of weeks.
Life isn’t over until you say it is! It may be a bitch and a half and will bite you in the ass when you’re not looking, but we are all ultimately responsible for both our joy and sadness. How we perceive the things that happen to us and how we let it affect us is the key.
It does seem as if you have many people in your life that care about you. Many NY’kers don’t have that. They struggle in silence and alone.
It reminds me of an old jewish story about two brothers who lived on different sides of a mountain. It goes like this [sic]: