A More Personal Approach

Broken and not beautiful

I worked my first ever 8 hour work day today. I know that that's not something extremely impressive but I think it's somewhat pertinent to the story.
A coworker asked me "is this your first time working 8 hours straight?" I said yes and she replied, "and so it will be for the rest of your life."
It was meant as a joke but for some strange reason or another it evoked so much panic in me. I don't hate my current job in any way and I have every intention of continuing it by becoming a veterinarian one day. However, I think the permanence of this lifestyle terrified me. The idea that, although I don't do much with my free time, I'll still no longer have my free time scared me.
A part of me felt too mature despite the fact that I hardly enjoyed my childhood. Maybe it's because I'm chasing that childhood feeling I missed out on and I haven't reached it yet.
Or maybe permanence is terrifying to me. After all once people mention a relationship, a commitment, or even death I become horrified at the prospect of staying a certain way forever. Maybe because I've always felt so empty and that was constant and numbing and I thought it'd last forever.
Regardless of the reason all my suicidal thoughts cane rushing back as they never have before. The only reason I remain here is my fear of dying. Permanently dying. But then again I also don't want to live forever, permanently alive. Soon instead of thoughts of suicide I felt this insatiable need to disappear because I was so afraid. Like a child I wanted to curl up and cry.
But some part of me couldn't do it. I kept looking for the good in everything until I made it to the end of the day. I kept pretending that I was strong when clearly I was not. In the end I could not even confide in the people closest to me. I couldn't bring myself to say I had a bad day to anyone. I suppose it's not a big deal though as I have been in this kind of grief quite often.
The scariest thing was perhaps the idea that I wouldn't be happy no matter what I did. I thought about what I really wanted to do and I thought of nothing. There are many things I'd be fine doing and many things I can't accept but overall I won't be truly happy. I wouldn't be happy at one job and I wouldn't be happy job hopping. I really did feel an overwhelming urge to disappear.
I feel like I'm floating away and yet my body is completely grounded. I wanted to self harm to escape from my thoughts but I also couldn't bring myself to do it because people at work would see. I found myself pretending that my life was perfect and somehow all this fakery was what was saving my life.
I'm sure I've been in worse shape in the course of my life but each time a new depressive episode occurs it is like the world is ending. And maybe the world is ending, not for everyone else, just for me. My world is ending. And as soon as it looks like it may end, things go back to being overly good and I reach manic highs. Some days it feels as if the world is taunting me just for fun. Other days I think I'm insane and I should be on medication. Even on good days I'm not sure I want to live. I'm simply here because I was given life against my will as selfish as that sounds.
I truly believe my life will end in tragedy, not because I'm cynical but rather because that's the most realistic outcome. I cannot escape my depression. I cannot see a way out on a good or bad day. I cannot see myself without depression. And I doubt I can live very long with it.

~fatsotheawesome 🕊