Sharing how I feel. Perhaps others will recognize parts and can add their own experiences:
I’m pretty much always feeling somewhere on the scale from neutral to unbearably bad. I’ll see or encounter something that acts as a trigger, and I can’t predict what it will be. I can come in contact with 487 cases of other people having friends, being happy, living life and not think about it, and then the 488th case sets me off. The physical sensation that comes to mind is that it’s like my brain is being dipped in acid. That could be the tear ducts activating, though. I hardly ever cry, but I can spend hours feeling like I could cry or am on the verge of crying. The feeling is more a hollow, hopeless sadness than a wet, crying sadness. I’ll also get a nervous feeling in my gut, kind of like there’s some deadline I’ve forgotten, or like I’m in trouble for something. Moving, and even think too much, becomes difficult. So I’ll sit or lie down and watch the walls and ceiling. Usually I’ll cover at least part of my face with my hands or arms because I feel like I shouldn’t show my face. While this is happening my mind is the opposite from racing, just looking over a slow mix of images and feelings. All the misery and wasted life of the past and present. And the knowledge that no matter how bad I feel now, I’ll feel worse in the future. Everything is internalized by now so there’s little need for reminders. Usually the emotional pain gets worse and worse until I squirm and make pained noises. I can’t take it, but I can’t make it stop. After a while (maybe an hour) the edge lifts and I get up or take a nap.
At night I’ll have trouble falling asleep and then I’ll get up early not being able to sleep any more and not feeling particularly refreshed. When I open my eyes I still physically feel the heaviness, even if I don’t immediately remember why. But it all comes back soon enough. I’ll drive to stores to do my shopping, but sit in the car for a few minutes, not feeling like moving. To get something done I’ll think of just doing little things at a time. Like open the door, pause, move to leave car, pause, get up, pause, and so on.
During the week I can force myself to get into my work and to some extent feel better, but I always know the bad feelings are there and I still get their effects a little. My job is mostly solitary, with some contact with others to exchange information. I’m utterly alone. I’m different from the others in a shameful way. I don’t want them to find out I’m in my late thirties and have never had a real relationship or friends, and wasted away my life, because I’m still vain. To some extent I stay away from others because I don’t want them to learn the truth about me. There are two family members that I know, and talking to them (on the phone, they live far away) usually makes me feel worse. They don’t understand why I won’t just snap out of it and they get angry and frustrated.
I’m writing this description of how I feel because I don’t have anyone to tell it to. In some sense, I feel like I’m not getting credit for my suffering since it’s invisible to everyone but me.
I’m pretty much always feeling somewhere on the scale from neutral to unbearably bad. I’ll see or encounter something that acts as a trigger, and I can’t predict what it will be. I can come in contact with 487 cases of other people having friends, being happy, living life and not think about it, and then the 488th case sets me off. The physical sensation that comes to mind is that it’s like my brain is being dipped in acid. That could be the tear ducts activating, though. I hardly ever cry, but I can spend hours feeling like I could cry or am on the verge of crying. The feeling is more a hollow, hopeless sadness than a wet, crying sadness. I’ll also get a nervous feeling in my gut, kind of like there’s some deadline I’ve forgotten, or like I’m in trouble for something. Moving, and even think too much, becomes difficult. So I’ll sit or lie down and watch the walls and ceiling. Usually I’ll cover at least part of my face with my hands or arms because I feel like I shouldn’t show my face. While this is happening my mind is the opposite from racing, just looking over a slow mix of images and feelings. All the misery and wasted life of the past and present. And the knowledge that no matter how bad I feel now, I’ll feel worse in the future. Everything is internalized by now so there’s little need for reminders. Usually the emotional pain gets worse and worse until I squirm and make pained noises. I can’t take it, but I can’t make it stop. After a while (maybe an hour) the edge lifts and I get up or take a nap.
At night I’ll have trouble falling asleep and then I’ll get up early not being able to sleep any more and not feeling particularly refreshed. When I open my eyes I still physically feel the heaviness, even if I don’t immediately remember why. But it all comes back soon enough. I’ll drive to stores to do my shopping, but sit in the car for a few minutes, not feeling like moving. To get something done I’ll think of just doing little things at a time. Like open the door, pause, move to leave car, pause, get up, pause, and so on.
During the week I can force myself to get into my work and to some extent feel better, but I always know the bad feelings are there and I still get their effects a little. My job is mostly solitary, with some contact with others to exchange information. I’m utterly alone. I’m different from the others in a shameful way. I don’t want them to find out I’m in my late thirties and have never had a real relationship or friends, and wasted away my life, because I’m still vain. To some extent I stay away from others because I don’t want them to learn the truth about me. There are two family members that I know, and talking to them (on the phone, they live far away) usually makes me feel worse. They don’t understand why I won’t just snap out of it and they get angry and frustrated.
I’m writing this description of how I feel because I don’t have anyone to tell it to. In some sense, I feel like I’m not getting credit for my suffering since it’s invisible to everyone but me.