EMMH 6 - Self-pity and Gratefulness

 The other day, my mother attended a seminar with this exact title. It was supposed to be related to her inner life and issues, but I really took offense with that presentation. Of course, she couldn't watch the entire thing, so I'm just gonna criticise my understanding of its first half: the half about self pity.

The presenter started talking about how people who pity themselves get trapped in a cycle of negative feelings; how they complain a lot, and by complaining, they emphasize their own bad situation even more. They aren't interested in help, or helping themselves, instead, they actively try to feel worse.

At this point, I basically blew up. The presenter was a theologian and a "mental hygiene specialist", but not a psychologist, or, dare I say, a psychiatrist. I could remember my depressive episode way too well. It wasn't about me not wanting to get out: I genuinely felt like there was no way out. I was too fat to train, I was too sad to work, too poor to live, and too scared to... 

I also tried to not complain. But I feel like I was treated as if I had been just complaining in vain, just disregarded as not trying hard enough. I did not try hard enough by "neurotypical" standards, maybe, but I was trying as hard as I could. And I don't want to describe all the things I'd been through, they were just kind of way too much for me. I definitely took no pleasure in being miserable. I wanted it to stop, and I couldn't make it stop. It was simply way too much for me.

I'll have to admit, I felt kinda really attacked by my therapist at that time. I was so angry at my parents for bringing me into this world to suffer, and she told me how I have to take responsibility for things, and it seems like I'm taking steps backwards in my journey to adulthood. Now, generally, I said a few times that I didn't want to be an adult, that I was scared or something, but in those times, I didn't even want to breathe. It was slightly my fault, that she couldn't help me with that: I'm not sure what laws do we have around shoving people in mental hospitals, but I was not going to risk it.

It was honestly a really painful part of my life, and I'm not even sure what I could have done to fix it. Obviously, I should have asked for help, then: but I was afraid I'd be robbed of all my autonomy. I'd rather die of being stupid on my own, than just let anyone else decide things instead of me.

I think two things helped me out of it: the first was actually getting the vaccine against covid, and the second was my man.

I'd been delaying a few medical treatments because I wasn't sure if I should invest into any of them. After all, I could die any moment... and I would have had few problems with that. One of them was actually getting the shot. Even despite travelling home in January for a few days, to try and get it ASAP, after that attempt failed, I just gave up. Yes, it was stupid. Going by any sense of conventional logic, it was stupid, but I was so convinced I wouldn't live much longer that I didn't want to waste the serum. Sounds ridiculous, but didn't feel that way.

After my father scheduling me for an appointment, I still had all the weird feelings, but no logical excuse to not get the shot. And after the first shot, I obviously needed to stay alive at least until I got the second one.

A few weeks after getting this first shot, I started the Insanity program. This one happened, because the state my man lives in got put on lockdown. We were talking one day, I said I felt really bad, because a whole year has passed and nothing seems to have changed. He replied he was changing what he could (his body; he is still doing the program he started then). I congratulated him, but I had given up on mine. Then, on another day, he actually told me which program he was doing, and I remembered that I had acquired Insanity years ago, and it was on my bucket list to complete the program. My laptop was dead, so if the program was on it, and not on a portable drive, my sudden spark of motivation would have been crushed instantly. I did find the program on my drive, though, and prepared all my gym clothes to get out into the gym the very next day.

I felt like I was wasting my life. Going to the gym wasn't going to stop any of that, but what it did do was allow me a bit of time where I didn't have to think about anything. I could even close my eyes, because I was training far away from others, and there was no risk of bumping into them. The program sucked. It was hard, it left me out of breath, we all know that. It's called Insanity for a reason. But it somehow helped me.

Another factor that I've largely ignored was setting the clocks to summer time again. I used to say that winter time doesn't work for me, and as soon as we get back to summer time, I'd get better. I'm not really sure as to what extent it came true, but it sort of did: we are on summer time, have been for a few months, and my mental health had been getting better during the past few weeks.

All this to say that I was really deep into that hole of nothingness. Nothing really mattered to me. I had nothing. I still have very little. And I could not have gotten out alone. I could not have asked for what I needed, because I did not know what I needed, and what I did know, couldn't just be handed to me. So to me, that presentation felt like it was belittling all the things I went through. It sounded like the presenter was making it out to be a choice of mine to be nothing. But that did not feel true at all. I felt I had no choice: if I had, I would have chosen to be happy, but I didn't, it was far removed from me.

My man said, when I tried to describe my feelings, at a really low point, that those symptoms sounded like clinical depression, and I should talk to a psychiatrist. I wanted to, but I knew that nothing could be done at that very moment. I needed something that I could do, that made me feel better instantly. Lucky for me, exercise works this way in my system.

Then, my mother didn't hear that part about gratefulness, but I'd bet my behind that she was gonna talk about how gratefulness is the way out of misery and into happiness, and that just spiked my blood pressure. Gratefulness, as a habit, didn't work out for me, because when I need to build a habit is when I'm the worst at doing it. And besides, what should I feel grateful for? My days felt like mush. I hated everything. The only thing I would have been grateful for, would have been my friends or my man, and I still held a lot of bitterness, because I did know all these awesome people, sure, but I had no access to them. Everyone had their own misery and schedules, and I couldn't see them, couldn't talk to them, and wouldn't burden them with my suffering anyway. When I was feeling like nothing, gratefulness felt like a scam, like someone spitting in my face. I'm not a lifestyle coach, and in fact I despise the concept of one.

I wish I could give you easy steps to get out of a rut, or a depressive episode, or a whatever bad place you might be going through. But if you're feeling like I felt, you might feel absolutely hopeless and lost, and if I told you that's okay, you'd laugh at me and call me a shallow neurotypical bitch. You'd be right to do that. I'm sorry, I can't give you the steps. But if you've read this far, please know: I trust that it will get better for you. You don't have to believe me, just please, stay a bit longer, and I trust it will change. I wish there was more I could do for you, but there isn't anything more anyone else could have done for me. I did get out of the rut, so I think it's possible. When I was in it, I didn't, obviously. So I genuinely do believe that you'll find a way to get out of it and live a life worth living.

Thank you for existing.