Venting not very good at this recovery thing

[viljalauss]

hi beloved sasu it's been a long time. i am still alive unfortunately

i'm pretty much not allowed to die, not at this point. my bf has provided and continues to provide a home for us (we live together) meaning i don't have to live with family anymore. all of changing my name and eventually getting a GD diagnosis / changing name on passport, etc. is realistic, for one, but also realistic in the very near future. also my parents are both dealing with their parents having quite serious health issues -- though i don't think any time would be good for my parents to have me die, so the first point is more compelling. there is so so much i can be grateful for that has happened in the last 4-5 months. compare that to 8+ years of suicidality, and i don't know if it's just because it's more recent but the last 3 years have felt pretty brutal. not to mention if i ctb now, unlike in june where we lived with friends, my bf will be completely alone and i am as scared of the result of that as he has voiced he is for himself

but how on god's green earth am i meant to cope with this. how do people cope with it. the fact that they have to stay alive. not even necessarily (or not as much) the idea that there are so many uncertain things that life can throw at you depending on how long you stay on its course, but even just the cycles that keep happening -- [months], death-days of people i know

i at least in part came here because i know people have come not from a default position of 'oh, you just have to' but either haven't questioned it or, if they have, can't admit to others that they can't find an adequate answer

the title can be taken in two ways, both of which i wanted to address - the first is the above, that i'm finding the idea of recovery really difficult to cope with, the idea that i'll have to stay alive indefinitely
the second being that as "committed" as i am (i.e. staying alive even though i often really do not want to) i'm not using the time i have or the better mental state (compared to before june/july; change in circumstances and probably also lamotrigine coming in clutch) i have to do anything better, really. a lot of the time i have is taken up by job applications (or, rather, the fact that i'm so slow at doing them) - but the rest of it i could fill with so much that's better, or even just more varied. as it is i tend to just go between writing music and sudoku games, because they feel easiest, until both feel stale, as everything does eventually, except the eventually isn't a few months or days, it feels like every few hours. i think that, far more often than i'm tired in the sense that i want to sleep (though that is pretty often), i don't mind being awake but i also don't want to do anything. or interact with anything consequential or even interesting. but also if i don't do anything i get into my thoughts which, as it turns out, is not a good place right now because i end up thinking about how / how deeply i want to not do anything and it scares me

and i sort of know that you can build better habits and how to do it and how long for (apparently 22 days is a false figure and way too short), all these steps you can take, but i can't bring myself to want to. i want to crawl into a hole and curl up and sleep and not wake up

""It's okay, day after next, we'll make all these arrangements to change, you can better yourself" / I know I'm wasting my breath as I inhale" - ruby <3

so yea . i can't say with full honesty that i wanna get better and commit to life but 1) i wanna know how one would hypothetically do both and 2) use that to help me be better while on this earth, even if i've well overstayed my welcome. i imagine the second will be answered well if i look properly through the recovery section, but in order to get anything out of it i really do just need to commit to life and i don't know how i can bring myself to do that )): any replies are welcome but this has been a vent

 

[littleraccoon3]

Hey, I'm really glad you reached out. I hear so much pain in your words, and it's clear you're carrying a heavy load right now. First, I just want to acknowledge that what you're going through is incredibly tough, and it makes sense that you're struggling with the idea of staying alive when life feels overwhelming, repetitive, and, at times, almost unbearable. I can hear how much you want to rest, to escape, to find some kind of peace, but I also hear how much you're trying to navigate through it all, even though it feels like it's pulling you under.

I won't pretend I have easy answers, because I don't. I think what you're grappling with—the idea of recovery, of staying alive even when it feels impossible, of wanting to find something meaningful to do with your time—these are questions a lot of people face, even if they don't always voice them. The idea that you have to "just stay alive" and the emotional toll it takes is a struggle so many people go through, especially when life feels uncertain, and death feels like an option that offers escape from a world that's so hard to navigate. I know it's exhausting to even think about recovery, when you're stuck in a cycle that seems never-ending and when even small steps forward don't seem to make much of a difference.

But something I want to say from the heart: staying alive, even when you don't want to, is a powerful act of resilience, even if you can't feel it right now. It's an act of holding on to the possibility that there's something ahead that's worth fighting for—whether it's a future where things feel a little lighter, or even just the chance to be there for someone else, like your boyfriend, who clearly cares deeply for you. I understand that it's hard to feel motivated when the days blend into one another and nothing feels new or exciting. That feeling of wanting to be alive but not wanting to do anything is more common than we often admit. And, honestly, it's okay to feel like that. It's okay to not want to do anything some days. What matters is that you're still here, reaching out, even in the midst of everything.

As far as coping with the idea of having to stay alive indefinitely, that's such a huge thing to face. It's not about making it all better right away—it's about taking small steps towards creating moments where life feels a little less suffocating. You don't have to have all the answers right now. Sometimes, it's just about allowing yourself to be where you are, without needing to force yourself to "feel better" immediately or live up to some ideal of productivity or recovery. It's more about letting yourself exist without the pressure to be anything other than what you are in that moment.

The things you mentioned, like the music and sudoku, may feel repetitive or empty sometimes, but maybe there's room in there to explore what they mean to you, even in small ways. Creativity can be a way of feeling alive, even if it doesn't always feel meaningful in the grand scheme of things. And the fact that you're still engaging with something, even in small ways, shows that you're not fully checked out from life. Sometimes, you don't have to do something "big" to make progress, even though it feels like there's a standard you should be meeting. In those quieter moments when you're not sure what to do with yourself, that's where you can gently nudge yourself towards something else—whether that's finding a hobby you enjoy, reaching out to someone, or even just sitting with your feelings instead of trying to escape them.

I also hear you on the desire to "get better" but not being able to find the will to commit to life. It's such a tough place to be, where you know you should want to get better but just can't bring yourself to want it yet. I don't think that means you're failing, though. It just means you're in a place where the desire to stay is conflicted, and that's okay. Maybe, rather than forcing yourself to want to get better right away, it's more about asking yourself, "What would make today or tomorrow just a little less painful?" It could be something small: talking to a friend, allowing yourself to rest, writing your feelings down, or even acknowledging that it's okay to feel lost right now.

You don't have to make huge strides every day. Life doesn't need to be constantly moving forward in a straight line. Sometimes, just holding on to the small moments of connection, even with yourself, is enough.

And finally, I want to say that it's incredibly powerful that you're still here, reaching out, even in the midst of all this pain. You don't have to have everything figured out, and it's okay to just be where you are. It might feel impossible right now, but there are people out there who care, and your life is meaningful, even if it's hard to see that at times.

Please don't hesitate to keep reaching out, whether to me, to others who understand, or to professional support. You don't have to walk through this alone, and it's okay to ask for help when you need it. Take care of yourself, however that looks right now.