Goodbye, Jack

Goodbye, Jack

Since very early this morning, I have been playing my game like crazy to get as many missions done as possible. Only to find, that it is impossible to finish all the missions. I am going to miss this game. I don’t know what I am going to do tomorrow evening to wind down. I have a busy morning but when I come home, there isn’t going to be a game waiting for me to tend to crops and animals. It is going to be so weird. I still am thinking about getting off of Facebook for a while. I can already see that there is just going to be more bullshit photos of sayings and prayers. I have been slowly unfriending my gamer friends so they are not in my feed and my real friends are there. There is one gamer that has baby goats and like to post their pics. I could care less.

I had an interesting session with my therapist. I told her I was a nobody and for some reason, that triggered her into crying. She said it had to do with my self-regard. I don’t know why she took it personally. It is how I feel, a nothing, a nobody. Then I felt bad that she cried. But then, I have no idea the effect I have on people. It all started when I was telling her I don’t matter and the winner of the writing contest keeps coming up. It just hurts me that I didn’t win or even get a thank you for entering but sorry you didn’t win. I was one of 100 people that entered the contest. Surely they could have sent out sorry letters/emails. I just hate it when she says I contribute and I am wondering what the hell I am contributing to, exactly? It isn’t toward an academic journal or research lab. It isn’t even on the social media presence on Twitter. Hell, I tweet all the time and only 0.01 percent of the time, I get a response. So how am I contributing??

I entered another AAS contest, though I think I am wasting my money. I never win, but if you don’t play, you can’t win so I paid the money for the raffle and I will know June 2nd if I won. It’s an all inclusive package to Chicago for the 2016 annual conference. If I don’t win, I am never entering anymore contests from the AAS. I can’t be wasting money that can be used elsewhere.

My therapist was a real pita today. In addition to making her cry, she was just all in my business. I swear I was going to hang up on her if she told me one more positive thing about myself. I just couldn’t stand it. It’s one thing to hear it from time to time, but the last three days has been overwhelming me. It really is hard for the good stuff to sink in and I felt like she was hammering me with it. I understand that today I was going to end my life but now, I am not. And I really don’t know how I feel about that. Sure, I feel like a failure. But the last few days, I have been thinking about the people that would miss me and if I wasn’t here anymore. My online friends won’t know that I am gone. Who will be there to tell them? If they aren’t friends with my sisters, I doubt the message would go out. And what about Twitter? My sisters don’t know how to use Twitter so there will be a loss there. Just weird thoughts that I have been thinking about lately. And Julie Cerel’s number of 115 affected by one suicide keeps ringing in my head. That is the average number of people that will be affected by someone’s suicide. She doesn’t know where Shneidman got the number six, but it is way more than that. Hell, my mother’s side is just over 60 people, maybe more. My father’s side is smaller, more like 25 tops. And that is just my family, not including my friends, either at work or school or wherever.

My therapist wants me to make a nest. Of what exactly, I am not sure. The things she was naming to put in it sounded more like a hope box than a nest. When I brought that up to her, she was confused, or at least sounded like it. I might have interrupted her train of thought, which was sort of the point. I had told her what my psychiatrist said to me on my last visit to her. She called me, of all the people in her life, her role model. How the hell am I suppose to kill myself knowing these people take me so seriously and lovingly? I don’t know if it is a guilt trip but it sure feels that way. And I guess if they have their way, I am the one that continues to hurt, not them. But their affection towards me keeps me hanging on, even if it is for one more day.