The DTs: Episode 3


Definition: the general or universal condition of human existence

The high wears off too quickly.

I feel like none of my “flirtationships” are getting past that stage. That’s ok, but I’m still going to be lonely. I get an actual, physical high from physical affection (usually romantic, but once in a while platonic).

  • A few moments caressing the hair and neck of a woman that I feel is beautiful.
  • A quick, few stolen kisses from a man much too young.
  • Giving a back rub to a romantic interest.

Those things pick me up, for just a little while. Then I plummet right back down again. I know it is because it’s so far and in between.

I’m not healthy. Not mentally, not spiritually and not physically. This poor health definitely limits my life. Oh, I know there are changes I can (and sometimes do) make to make things better, but even then, everything stays the same. I’ve been stuck in this rut for so long.

When I was 14, I had a plan to commit suicide when I was 18, so I would never have to be an adult. So many days pass that I wish I’d stuck to that plan. Because no, it doesn’t get better.

I’ve never been ambitious, never had a real “plan” for life. I had some ideas. None of them included where I am now. I’ve never been married, never really had a serious significant other, I have no children, and I’m on disability for several conditions, mostly mental that will probably never get better. I live on government subsidy and in subsidized housing in a terrible neighborhood. I can barely get the energy to clean my apartment and I can’t get it together enough to save for something better. I dropped out of high school and college and am having what little income I get garnished for past student loans. I can read, but I can barely understand math or science or hell, anything else academic.

And to think, I used to be a one of the most gifted people I knew. I was accepted to a private school for the gifted and talented with a FULL SCHOLARSHIP based on my IQ test scores alone. I was kicked out of that too. I was accepted as an alternate to the Denver School of the Arts (contingent on enough people dropping out, which didn’t happen.)

I feel like I’m barely surviving. I’m not trying to complain or make excuses. Things are what they are, and rationally, I know I’ve got some real blessings.

I DO have a home and I DO have friends who love me and that I love back. I still have both my parents at the time of this writing. I generally have food in the fridge and things to do. I have access to a computer and internet and books and relative freedom. I have cis-gender privilege. I live in a world where my occasional attraction to women is becoming normal and not as looked down upon. I have a beautiful cat and super cute dog that are my housemates and furry babies.  I have a great singing voice and even a little musical talent with instruments.

You’d think with so much that is actually going for me that I could be happy. But we also live in a world where it’s pushed on us to want MORE MORE MORE.

Capitalism for the win! /sarcasm

Hearing the good news of a friend having healthy children pushed me to the brink of suicide. It was one of those aforementioned friends that talked me down, talked me out of it.

Even though I said for years that I hated kids, everyone knew it wasn’t true. I really don’t think that someone who truly hates children would have spent so much time working in childcare.  Then again, what do I know. I’ve met some truly horrendous caretakers and teachers in my life.

When I was 15, my sophomore English class had a some project where we had to do an autobiography. The last part was where we saw ourselves in the future. (I had the fun idea of writing it past tense as though I was already in the future and looking back. My teacher thought that was great.) I wrote that I’d never been married, only had a string of lovers. That’s the story I tell and what I say, but I didn’t actually mean for that to really happen. (“lovers” is probably not really an accurate way of saying things, but it works well enough.)

I really didn’t expect, 20 years later, to be where I’m at. I thought I’d have a nice career and a family and maybe a couple of kids. The typical, I guess.  I really never thought I’d be an alcoholic with tendencies towards drug use. I never thought this depression would last or that I’d end up with other mental issues that I have no clue how to truly treat. (I’ve tried medication and therapy and everything else. Nothing seems to stick.) I never thought I’d feel disconnected from the world around me and jealous of my friends with children. I never, ever thought I’d be so lonely.

I don’t know what a “better life” is. I know my hopes and expectations color my perceptions. My buddies have pointed that rather unpleasant fact out to me quite a bit. It’s all I got though. I have ideas on what I think would make things better, help me to become more content. I don’t know where to start.



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