Existential Boredom

I’m not as intensely suicidal anymore, but I really just don’t see the point of being alive.

Since the election, I have nothing to do with my time.  Literally all I do is sit in bed all day and waste time on my computer.  There is no point to my existence.

Nothing holds my attention.  I try to knit, to watch Netflix, to read, to write.  Nothing interests me.  I force myself to do it, but that doesn’t work for very long, and there are so many hours to fill.

And I hurt.  I don’t know what it is with the roving joint pains–one joint will hurt badly for weeks or sometimes months, and then for no reason that pain will stop.  Soon it starts back up in a different joint.  Right now it’s my left wrist again.  I have a brace from when I sprained my wrist doing kung fu, and it helps some…but it makes it hard to type or knit.  And my belly hurts.  I think I might be heading into another UC flare, which is awesome, especially since I might have to come off the 6-MP soon.  I’ve spent the last two weeks telling myself it was just PMS-related mini-flare symptoms, but since my period hasn’t happened, I don’t think I can blame PMS.  Oh, and it’s IBD Awareness Week, so clearly my body has impeccable timing and a fucked-up sense of humor.

I barely have an appetite, either.  I mean, I get hungry, but I don’t eat for hours because I just don’t care enough to get food.  C made me a gluten-free vegan cheesecake a week ago.  Ordinarily I’d have eaten the whole thing in about two days (no judging), but I’ve still got some left over.  I’ve got a big container of Thanksgiving leftovers, too.  They’re good, but I haven’t touched them.  Oh, and there’s also lentil soup C made.  It’s not even that I’m too tired/weak to prepare anything–literally all I’d have to do was take them out of the refrigerator and microwave them.  But I just don’t care enough.

I’d fooled myself into thinking the weakness was getting at least a little better, but it turns out I only thought it was better because I didn’t do anything beyond sitting in bed and getting up to use the bathroom.  Yesterday I cleaned my microwave.  It took all of five minutes, and that’s a generous estimate.  But then I couldn’t stand up, collapsed on the kitchen floor, and had to crawl back to my bed.  How am I supposed to have ANY quality of life when I can’t even stand for five minutes?  I’m terrified that whatever’s going on is getting worse.  I still haven’t had any luck reaching my gastroenterologist for a referral to a neurologist.  I might ask C to see if my ex-nurse, S, can make some calls.  Often medical professionals get a much better response than patients–sad but true.

I’m just so tired of existing like this.  There’s no light.  I don’t feel an immediate need to kill myself, but I can’t just keep living like this, either.  I want to feel like there’s some meaning, but I can’t see anything in this fog.



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12 responses to “Existential Boredom

  1. I’m still behind on your blog posts. But I am glad your not as suicidal as you had been. That’s good news. I’m sorry that you are having so many symptoms, though. It must be really hard because you want to do things and you cant. That probably drives you crazy in and of itself. I wish you got some answers. XXX

  2. Glad there is food on hand should you have the desire. If you are in bed most the time and belly hurts not wanting to eat seems logical to me.

    I have had a GERD problem since mid Oct … heartburn city…think it might be because I had a week of antibiotics. Baby problems compared to you but it has made me not be that thrilled about eating. (My normal state is loving food and cooking, and certainly obese.)

    Asking someone to make some phones calls strikes me as a good step.

  3. I’m thinking of you, Kyra. Praying for you, just-in-case-it-helps. Wishing I had a Magic Wand to make it all better.

    This may sound ridiculous to you, but it’s something that’s helped me through a couple of long wanting-to-die periods, so I’ll share it with you if you don’t mind.

    Here it is: I hate to stop reading a book before I get to the end, even if it is a mostly crappy book. Ditto for mostly crappy movies. I want to see how the story ends, just in case it gets better, or at the very least, maybe by the end some of the crappy parts will come together and make some kind of sense.

    I feel the same way about my life. Even when it’s crappy and boring and I’m hurting inside and out and my life seems to have no purpose at all… I tell myself, “Pretend this is a stupid movie or a boring book. I’ve made it through this much of the story. I think I’ll hang around a little while longer and see how it all ends.”

    We are all guaranteed to die someday. I’ve done a lot of genealogy research and, with the sole exception of my elderly momster, every last one of my hundreds and thousands of ancestors are dead and gone. Some day the momster will be and some day I will be… and someday you and everyone reading your blog will be gone from this life, too.

    But wouldn’t you hate to walk out of the movie just before it all gets interesting and starts to make some sense?

    If my idea seems silly to you, well, at least maybe I gave you a laugh. 🙂

    • See, I’m one of those people who doesn’t do well pushing through books or movies I don’t like. If it doesn’t hold my interest, I move on to something else. I guess that kind of represents how I feel about my life, too.

  4. Oh, and one more thing: I have, in times of extreme duress, taken comfort from the fact that we will all die sooner or later. In my 61 years of living, I have actually seen it happen more than once where someone who was really sick of living and had let that be known the way you have done, up and died suddenly and unexpectedly, even at a really young age. And the cause of death in these situations, according to the autopsy and/or law enforcement investigation, proved that these weren’t suicides. So maybe when your time comes, when it really is time for you to leave this life, you just will. And you won’t have to make it happen.

    Also, if you do a search on the long-term ACE study, done by the CDC, about people who have survived multiple childhood traumas, they found by tracking over 17,000 people since the 1990s that someone with an ACE score of 6 or higher has their life expectancy cut way down, by as much as 20 years. I have already outlived my extremely high ACE score life expectancy.

    Life really does speed up more and more the older you get. It seems not long ago at all that I was in my 20s. Almost before you know it, if you hang around, you will come to the end of your life expectancy whether you want to or not. So… anyway… just more silly thoughts.

    Truthfully, I would be very sad if something happened and suddenly you weren’t here anymore.

    • Boy, that’s sure true about how time changes with age. I’m in my early 50s, and wonder where the last 25 years have gone… and during some of those years, I was in pretty lousy emotional shape. One thing that has always gotten me through (rape, leukemia, blood clots in lungs, disability, chronic pain, collapsing spine, etc) is remembering what I’m thankful for. Started out with stupid stuff, but gradually grew- and no matter how lousy things are, I’m much happier here than dead 😉

      • You’ve survived way more than most people should ever have to go through, JillinoisRN. So you really get what Kyra is going through, don’t you?

        Remembering the things I’m thankful for. Yes, that has gotten me through a lot, too. The feeling of a cool breeze on my bare arms on a warm day… the kiss of golden sunshine on a cold day… a sweet cup of tea… birds singing in the trees… a glorious sunset… these are a few of my favorite things, as Mary Poppins sang, and I am grateful.

        Oh but I know how horrible anhedonia is, that dead-inside feeling, when everything that once brought you pleasure now feels utterly empty and pointless and flat. It is a horrible, miserable feeling. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. Mmmm, on second thought, oh yes I would! But only long enough to teach the A-hole some perspective and compassion, if that is even possible, and then I would want that horrible deadness to lift. Yes, I’m talking about the worst A-hole I know. I wouldn’t wish anhedonia even on that person for too terribly long. That’s how bad it is.

        So I, too, completely get where Kyra is coming from. God, I wish I knew how to make it better for her. All I know is that when I was at my lowest low, although it lasted a hell of a long time, it did not last forever.

        Nothing in this life is forever.

      • I’m glad that gratitude has worked for you, but it’s not something I’ve found helpful myself.

    • Oh, I have lots of factors that say I probably won’t live all that long. IBD and mental illness, plus some studies show that taking psych meds also shortens your life expectancy. I have a family history of heart disease, breast cancer, diabetes, hypertension, and so on.

      But lately I feel like I just can’t wait around indefinitely. Sometimes it feels like the universe is punishing me by keeping me alive when there’s nothing for me. Have you ever read the Harlan Ellison short story “I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream”? That’s what my life feels like, melodramatic as it is. Being kept alive just to be tortured, and my voice has been taken away.

  5. Most A-holes wouldn’t get it. A-holes are incapable of understanding that someone else has feelings, or that they have hurt them. :/

    Yeah, I wish I could help make things better for a few people tonight. No matter what is going on in my life, someone else has it worse.

    • My experience is not so much that they don’t understand that other people have feelings that can be hurt–it’s that they just don’t care. So many of the people I’ve dealt with were such experts at hurting people that they had to have a good understanding of human emotions in order to manipulate them.

      It’s funny, though. I don’t really have revenge fantasies anymore. God knows I used to. I’ve never worked toward forgiveness (another popular thing that really doesn’t work for me), but I think I just hit a point where I realized that causing someone else pain isn’t going to make mine any better. There’s already enough pain in the universe, and creating pain for one person (even if they’re a bad person who’s hurt other people) causes a ripple effect that hurts more people. So I don’t even wish pain on the people who hurt me anymore. I just don’t even care enough about them.

  6. I hope you find some peace. ❤

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