Lost

I need to be up at 7:30 tomorrow to drive to my uncle’s, as we are going to a music festival this weekend.  But I can’t sleep, yet again.  The racing thoughts in my mind tonight are so awful and scary and I can’t stop crying.  I have been very unstable the past few weeks but it is so hard for me to put it into verbal words when I see my therapist or psychiatrist.  It makes me wonder why I can’t say these things out loud.  I find it a lot easier to write it though, and then I can share it with them.  I am teetering on the edge right now.  I am becoming increasingly more suicidal, but I can snap out of it and it’s as if nothing has happened.  I was just laying in bed, crying, as this scene played out in my head where I went into a gun shop and asked to buy a gun.  I appear dazed, and the clerk asks me if I’m on drugs.  I tell him, No, I’m just suicidal.  He calls the police.  I grip my blanket tight and squeeze my eyes and the tears flow out, then suddenly it’s gone.  A bit earlier, I was thinking about walking down to my favorite bridge in the city.  It has really neat lights that they change frequently, and it lights up the city skyline.  I am sitting on the sidewalk.  I am holding a knife, and I am peering over the side of the bridge watching the cars drive underneath on the highway.

Am I a coward or am I brave that I have not carried out these suicidal thoughts?  So many triggers.  I keep trying, over and over and over again with my family.  I am jealous of my friends who are close with their families.  But every time I try to spend time with my family, it results in me having a meltdown.  They also don’t seem to want to spend time with me.  When I am at their house, they speak to me and treat me like they did when I was a child.  I will be 28 in 3 months.  Today I received a text message from my younger brother that he was at the Yankees game with my dad.  Much earlier in the season, I asked my dad if he and I could go to a Yankee game.  Growing up in North Jersey, we went to many games each summer, and my dad would take us individually.  This all stopped when I began my transition, and my family life fell apart, and we have not gone since.  My dad told me no.  Yet Mr. Workaholic manages to take a day off from work to take my younger brother to a game.  It’s not the game that upsets me, it’s the fact that my father sends the message he does not want to spend time with me.  

I feel as though I have nothing to live for.  My parent’s relationships and mine are so fake it’s completely pointless to attempt to maintain anything with them.  I am such an outcast.  After getting sober I lost most of my friends.  I had to give up my dogs because I ran out of money, and they were the only thing that kept me holding on.  I am ashamed of my feelings and ashamed of being bipolar and ashamed of being trans and I have nobody to turn to and nobody to talk to.  I am fucking lonely.  Today the only thing I managed to do was walk outside and get the mail, and come back in.  It took an incredible amount of strength to be able to do that, and I became exhausted after that.  This entire day has been a blur and I don’t even know what I did all day, but yet I never left the couch.

There is nothing left to hold on for and I can’t see myself having any future when I can’t even make it through a day without breaking down.  How can I maintain a full time job when getting the mail takes so much out of me?  Since my last hospitalization in April, I have only worked 9 days.  The school year starts in 2 weeks and I am not ready nor am I capable.  My family doesn’t understand what I’m going through and my parents only make things worse.  I am afraid to talk to my friends because I feel like I am the “debbie downer” and so I put on my mask and I pretend I’m okay.  I post funny pictures to Facebook while tears are streaming down my face, just so people don’t know I’m struggling.  I really don’t know how much longer any of this can go on.

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About gabe126

I'm a 29 year old gay trans guy who lives in Philadelphia. Gabe is not my real name, well, it's my middle name, but for anonymity's sake, let's go with that. I hold bachelor's degrees in both music and special education, and I am currently 2 semesters away from graduating with my masters in special education and autism studies. I am disabled due to severe mental illness (bipolar disorder, depression, anxiety, and OCD). I play the trombone and piano, although it's been a few years since I seriously touched a piano. I have 5 tattoos and another one planned, I just don't have the money right now. Derek Jeter, former Yankee's shortstop, is my husband.
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