I have lived my life combatting depression and anxiety. Suicidal thoughts have surfaced on more than just a few ocassions, but the truth of the matter is, I lack the constitution to go through with it, as even with my mental deficiencies, I'm not blind to see the potential wonder the world has to offer. That being said, I would say I'm more interested in the worlds my mind conjures up, than anything the world currently has to offer myself. Maybe that doesn't sound that weird. Lots of people create fantasy worlds, and a lot of people use them to create the finest art. I, on the other hand, would say that my vivid imagination has been 95% a hindrance to my overall progress in life. If I could label myself, I believe the most fitting term I could come up with to describe myself is an escapist by any and all means. If and when I am not over thinking a task to the enth degree, or vividly trapped in my own subconscious, I am actively looking for means to shut off any and all thoughts. This means I distract myself with an over abundance of media and art just so my mind can laser focus on one thing. These issues have also evolved into struggles with addiction, and an obsession with mind altering substances from time to time. It's the only way I know how to shut off the thoughts. This problem is so bad, and so tied with my conflicting traits of low self esteem and my prideful need to accomplish goals on my own, that the world around me falls apart. My surroundings become filth and garbage, not out of "laziness," but out of a crippling fear that I will fuck up even the most minute task, and an overwhelming sense of hopelessness in regards to developing good habits such as cleaning, hygiene, and maintaining health. I don't defend my actions in almost any circumstance because I know I am to blame, however I vehemently reject the numerous accusations that I'm lazy because I can guarantee I have thought over the task in a minute probably more than a regular person would in a lifetime. Throughout childhood and into my adult life, any task given to me from, say my parents, like cleaning my room, or mowing the lawn, even tasks that would take upwards of ten minutes of my day could literally send me spiralling. I would become lethargic, need to mentally prepare myself before doing these tasks, experience a spectrum of emotions while doing the tasks, and would likely need to spend the rest of the day "shutting my brain off." These over abundance of thoughts lead to sometimes dangerous fantasies where I dream of having everything from Cancer, dreaming of becoming crippled, hospitalized indefinitely, being labelled handicapped in any capacity by society and opting out of the grind called life. Not suicide per se, but living like a vegetable. These fantasies have lead to unhealthy jealousy of those who have been robbed of the ability to live the lives they themselves wished they had, or did have and can no longer return to. It creates a never ending cycle of depression and disgust of myself. Especially when comparing myself to my saints of parents, who both have physical and mental handicaps from physical traumas and health scares such as my Mother's stroke. I have been privileged to have been given clean slates in the past, and while I do attest that starting from scratch does shrink the thoughts, it does not eliminate them, and shortly after, I will find myself in a new hole. After years of job hopping to find the least stressful career for someone like me, and enduring challenges that life threw my way that legitimately weren't my fault, I spiralled and eventually stopped working all together, but even with collecting unemployment, the lack of purpose, the increasing depression, and the compulsion to blow all my money, I managed to spend all the money I was making on new and exciting, often expensive distractions, and eventually I started becoming more and more late with rent each month. I was forced back into the working world, but my habits lead me to still be evicted, alienating my roommates who used to be best friends of mine, but who have now chosen to not include me in their lives. My social skills feel like they are nose diving too, as I haven't felt like my true self in almost four years, starting with a tragic year of death, the dissolution of my family as a unit, being let go from a lucrative job (which I hated to begin with, but it fed my escapism with enough left over to live a life) and being forced into finding my own living arrangements for the truly first time. I now live with my Dad, rent free, working an under the table job, which while suits my needs, is far from a stable career, as I watch my childhood dog slowly deteriorate in health. I have about 10k worth of debt at this point, but my habits have prevented me in chipping away at this debt and my credit score is plummeting. I am lonely, and with a lot of free time on my hands, which has lead to some positive activity, but I cannot consistently maintain these activities either. I have had Panic Attacks sporadically over the past four years, and in my youth, and my most recent one sent me to the hospital. This most recent Panic Attack was fueled on by a mega dose of marijuana, and created an entirely vivid hallucination that combined real childhood memories with my disgusting subconscious desire to be pitied and spared, into what I believed was a repressed memory of me being molested by my Sister's Father. It was horrible, and I spent over 30 hours awake and was taken to the hospital by my Father. I believed it for weeks, but at this point, as the false memory has been over and over analyzed, I 100% believe my mind fabricated it as a way to "compete" with my parents and their ailments and it disgusts me to my very fibre. I unfortunately communicated this hallucination to my parents, who thankfully thought it wise to not tell my sister and further damage the reputation of a man who was truly kind to me my whole life. Despite all of this, I still think I have further to go, before hitting rock bottom. I still have people who care about me, despite my baggage. I don't want to lose them. I do have goals in my life still. I want to create art in all it's many forms, I want to be financially stable, I want to love and be loved by a woman, I want to be a father, and a good one at that. I want to teach and inspire others, and be a true role model. I am aware that I am not just a husk and that I have some legitimate intelligence and can empathize with damn near everybody, but the intelligence has yet to be a match for my chaotic emotions. I am in the process of seeking mental help, but of course I have been the cause of delay for that for years. I am truly my own worst enemy. There is a girl in my life now, and we are playing it casual in the meantime, but I have burgeoning feelings for her, and it would mean the world to me if I can find a way to hold myself together to not drive her away. She deserves better. I have little time left with my best friend and dog, and I want to be able to truly send him off from this world with him knowing I'll be alright, as silly as that might sound. I want my parents to be proud of me, just like anyone would. I want to find the right career path. I love the life that's around me, and my mental fantasies aren't cutting it any more. They are a crutch, but I got two working legs. This is me, playing my full hand, baring my soul, pleading that I don't spiral into obscurity, that I don't need to resort to harming myself or delaying my pain with substances (other than the prescribed kind atleast). This is me admitting that I need help badly. Help me find the strength I need so that I can be the man the people in my life can depend on. Help me give a shit about my own self.