I'm Not Trying To Get Attention When I Write About Depression and Suicidal Thoughts, and Loneliness In General...

What amazes me is that I think that people think that I am fucking kidding or trying to get attention when I say that I'm tempted to commit suicide. I wasn't kidding when I ended up in Sheppard Pratt in April 2006, was I? I wasn't kidding when I tried to attempt suicide in 1998 (when I was eight years old), was I? And when I called the Suicide Hotline tonight, I hung up twice-- I wasn't going to be able to tell them what's going on, at least without crying and bursting into incoherence while crying. I also couldn't tell them because I'm a Christian and they might not be able to understand some of what I'm going through.


Also, my mom calling my psychiatrist isn't going to help a lot-- he's not a Christian and (as I've told him and others) there are issues that the Sertraline and Abilify can't touch. I even got so desperate as to try Match.com to find the one for me-- one of my Hanukkah and Christmas wishes. Not only was Match.com a violation of 1 Corinthians 7, anyway-- since Christians are to follow the mitzvah that states, "Are you loosed from [without] a [spouse]? Do not seek a [spouse]."; but Match.com just wasn't worth what I need in a man, anyway. Remember, I have Cerebral Palsy, OCD/Anxiety/Depression, Irritable Bowel Syndrome, mild ADD, and possible Aspberger's. Also, my family has ilks that are (as I will continue to point out that Mia Danilowicz, part of the ilks actually so kindly proves about herself) "fucking psycho" (Todah, Mia; v'l'Hanukkah Tovah Tikatevi.). I need a man who can provide for and deal with all of and every aspect of me (including my medical and family history.).


PS I'm still waiting for that call from Cathy Dallwig about transporting disabled members to Chapelgate. Please kindly email her for me (as Charles Polk already did; and I know that Charles Polk is one out of few who actually care for me), and bug @ChapelgateNews on Twitter for me. I'm unkindly not leaving their church, no matter how much they don't want a disabled Jew with divorced parents and a crazy dad to not worship G-d among them.

Why I Envy Ebenezer Scrooge In A Way

In a way, I must confess, I envy Ebenezer Scrooge. While he's certainly (as far as I know) not Jewish or the 19th-Century equivalent of a compassionate conservative (at least until the end of "A Christmas Carol"), he at least gets to have visions and dreams. And for what? To bring him to teshuvah? Is that I am reminded of and complain like the non-prodigal son any wonder: "‘Lo, these many years I have been serving you; I never transgressed your commandment at any time; and yet you never gave me a young goat, that I might make merry with my friends.  But as soon as this son of yours came, who has devoured your livelihood with harlots, you killed the fatted calf for him.’"? Only by grace am I considered as though I have never sinned; but why does a fictional character like Scrooge get all the luck of having dreams and visions, while the Jew who I am with thorns in the flesh doesn't?

After all, while I know not to talk back to God, isn't that "if [our] fall is riches for the world, and [our] failure riches for the Gentiles, how much more [our] fullness!" as Jews? And why did Joseph get his dreams? He had a fairly-good dad (though Jacob did marry four wives and was named "Ya'akov" for a reason, since he would supplant and deceive; and put Joseph and Benjamin above the rest of his children)? He didn't have any thorms in the flesh. He had brothers who loved him in the end. He had a wife, children, and the second-highest position in Egypt. Me, I have a dad who I consider and even wished dead (for how else will I get the truth about our family history, pictures, etc. unless Dad and Pop-Pop die and are thus out of the way? Also, how will I and others, and Great-Grandma Czarnecki's blood be avenged?). I have Cerebral Palsy, OCD/Anxiety, Depression, Irritable Bowel Syndrome, and possible Aspberger's.

And I can't even have one dream or vision-- about my family history, about the future, whatever? And as much as my mom's my mom, my night comes down watching a movie with her while Michelle is at a party with her friends and where she might meet the one for her? And I can't even find the one in my life, and I have to instead watch a movie with my mom when I could be watching a movie with the one for me-- 0if and who ever he might be? So much for compensating for my thorns in the flesh; huh, G-d? And as I said, I know not to talk back;  and "I have not seen the righteous forsaken, Nor his descendants begging bread." But then why am I begging for at least a dream or vision, or the man for me, or something if I can't get the Rapture? And I know that I am a descendant of evildoers, but I'm also a descendant of some who were righteous. 

Dear Mom...

I know that I'm a failure. I know that you're not proud that I don't study as hard as I could, do much around the house as I could, and do much else as I could. But I try. I struggle with OCD/Anxiety, Depression, and possible Aspberger's. I may also struggle with ADD and ADHD (Aunt Mary struggles with mild ADD.). And I struggle with my Cerebral Palsy.

Imagine going through all that I've gone through with little to no support, and spurts of support that are about the extent of the support that I get. Imagine knowing that you're-- though imperfect-- unappreciated and not good enough for anyone no matter what you do. Imagine having my rough family history and not being discouraged from dealing with and talking about it, especially by me & other family. And imagine being mostly or entirely alone otherwise all the time.

I could go on; but Dear Mom, I know that I'm a failure. And now you know why.