Stigma Fighters: Steven Alexander

Home/Depression, Stigma Fighters/Stigma Fighters: Steven Alexander

Stigma Fighters: Steven Alexander

Yesterday was the first day in a long time that I have picked up a knife to harm myself. Actually, it was a box cutter. I was hurting emotionally and I couldn’t think straight.

See, I had talked to one of my coworkers about some things I was considering, such as finding a new job and a new place to live. I’m still hurting from the painful memories of Miss S and Miss F (both exes) that I feel that moving somewhere else would help tremendously.
My coworker then went straight to our boss and told him all about my thought process. I suppose I shouldn’t have gotten so angry. I think that in his mind, telling our boss was helping, but instead of seeing that, my mind flared with so much anger that I couldn’t see or think about anything else. On top of that, it has been nearly four weeks that I have been waiting on my tax return. Then, when I got home, I saw that my dog had chewed up one of my now deceased grandfather’s measuring cups.

My anger rose to the point that I could not hold it in anymore. I punched the wall, I kicked and beat the door, I threw a chair – but the worst part is, I spanked my dog harder than I should have. He was afraid of me for the first time in 4 years. I felt awful and I still do. I love my dog and I would never hurt him intentionally.

My rage had turned to tearful shouting. I fell to the floor and just cried and cried some more. Finally, I hugged my dog and told him I was sorry, kissed his head, then put him outside so he could eat and relieve himself.

I turned on some dark music and grabbed my old box cutter, took out the blade, then cut my legs and then my arms. There’s a part of me that remembers doing all this, but at the same time, I can’t remember everything that happened. I remember hating the world one minute and then feeling better the next. I purposefully did not try to cut deeply because all I wanted was to relieve my anger. Now I have some nice red scars to hide from everyone.
The question still remains, why did I get so angry? I have never gotten that angry before. Is my condition finally starting to worsen? Is the bipolar rage beginning to set in?

Now I don’t know who to trust. I have always hated tattlers. I can’t trust any of my coworkers to keep their damn mouths shut. I can’t be honest with my family because they’ll just freak out and bother me day in and day out which will just cause more stress and anxiety. I have never felt more alone than how I feel right now.

My depression and anger is continuing to worsen and I am physically and emotionally beginning to decline. I don’t know how much more I can take. I need someone that cares. I need someone that will help me, not just nod and say everything will turn out all right in the end. It’s true, yes, because when I die I will go to heaven and won’t have to suffer any longer. But as long as I am alive on this earth and remain in the state of mind that I currently am in, I will not be happy. I need to get out someway, somehow, someday.

Looking ahead, I honestly have no clue what I’m going to do. Of course, I have dreams and fantasies. Everyone does. My fantasy includes moving away, losing weight, getting fit, marrying Elizabeth Olsen, and becoming a screenwriter and actor. My dream on the other hand still involves marrying Elizabeth Olsen, but instead, leaving the country and seeing the world while we still have one to enjoy. Will those things ever happen? Probably not. I don’t care enough about myself to change my life. Right now, all I want to do is lie down, fall asleep, and rot.
Some days I want to be surrounded by friends but most days I just want to be left alone. No calls, no texts, no Facebook, no Twitter….just me, my movies, and my dog. Sadly, life doesn’t work that way. You have to pay your electricity bill to keep your TV on and you have to have money to pay your bill and you have to have a job to make money and you have to get up and make yourself drive to work in order to make it through the day.
Looking at my life, I can’t imagine that God is proud of me right now. I’m losing control of myself. I yell at Him and blame Him instead of ask for help. Well, this is me asking for help. God, my friends, strangers, someone…

I’m sorry if I’ve treated you wrong. I’m sorry if I’ve been mean or hateful to you. I can’t seem to control myself anymore. I don’t want to be put on a bunch of medications like I have been before, but I have gotten to the point where I’m tired of being tired. I’m tired of being useless and ugly and fat. I’m tired of not being good enough. I’m tired of the world. I’m just tired.

For anyone out there reading this, please, don’t be a misery like me. Go and become something admirable. Go and be who and what you want to be. Don’t let yourself become like me. Trust me when I say you wouldn’t like it down here. Being down all the time is hurtful not only to those around you but also yourself. Please, if you have read this article and you are feeling the same way, do something about it. Don’t let people tell you that you’ll be okay. You know your mind better than anyone else. If you need help, go get it before it’s too late.

1391687_10200689010296758_524037361_n

Steven is an amateur film critic, is 25, and lives in Sylva, NC.

 

 

 

 

 

Steven can be found on Facebook and Twitter

By | 2016-03-19T08:14:47+00:00 March 19th, 2016|Categories: Depression, Stigma Fighters|1 Comment

One Comment

  1. Virtual Go-to-Girl March 19, 2016 at 9:00 am - Reply

    ‘A return to love’ by Marianne Williamson and ‘A course in Miracles’ has made a profound difference in the way that I think and feel about life. Maybe it will help you too?

Leave A Comment