Celebrating my birthday was something I would have rather avoided. The only good thing about being 21 is that I can buy alcohol, which could be helpful in half ass suicide attempts. Adding another number to my count down just makes me feel desperate. Everyone keeps asking me what I want to do after I graduate and I’m sitting here sort of hoping I make it to graduation. The desperation makes my skin hot and makes my eyes haze over; I stare backwards into my head and imagine my death. It’s like I know that I’m going to die young. I’m not sad. It’s just a gut feeling I have, that I will go when I am young. I obviously don’t know when, but I don’t think the way my brain was made to handle 100 years in this world (or more accurately the world I have created).
I am graduating from UCI in June. I will be so glad to be out of here. Here is where my depression manifested into what it is today. I had episodes of depression before leaving for college, but they faded after a couple of months. This cold has been hanging on me for a year now. I think the main thing that is keeping me going is the guilt of how much money I have cost my parents with school. 100,000 dollars for this stupid university, and I off myself before I get my degree? I can’t do that to them. My major? The ironic part is that I majored in psychology. It is probably for the best; it helped me navigated the mental health system. I can tell you why people do what they do, but I can’t for the life of me figure out how to fix myself. It’s weird when you are being tested on material that you have learned in therapy. That was uncomfortable to get used to.
Back to 21. I turned the awful age on February 4th. I spent the weekend at home (which was lovely) with my family and friends. My life at school can be summed up in one word – isolation. At least at home I have some people I feel comfortable around. Yet that is slowly deteriorating as they learn more and more about my mental problems. It was almost safer being 20. The younger I am, the more I can blame my issues on “adolescence” or “growing up.” What happens when you are grown and there is nothing to justify how you feel? I’m in that teen to adult depression transition, how depression is for a teenager compared to an adult. Adult depression is a LOT worse. I was diagnosed first with MDD (major depressive disorder) in June 2012, and then rediagnosed into the subcategory atypical depression recently. I’m just waiting for the voices to come so I’ll be diagnosed with schizophrenia and they can lock me up then I won’t have to worry about a thing. I would just sit and draw all day, talk about my feelings, the works. Who wouldn’t want that? It scares me sometimes how appealing it is to me to be locked up in a mental institution for life. 21 years and I’ve never been inpatient. I’ve gotten close, but never officially a resident. That’s something to be proud of right?