So I’m having a bout of depression. I don’t know how to describe it. Feelings of anguish. That’s a really poor choice of words, but just an overwhelming sense of blah. I want to punch a hole in the wall or punch a hole in my my body.
I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin.
It’s got to be a depression thing related to autism. I don’t know, but it’s frustrating. The only thing I can really do is is talk about it, even though it’s through a recording on a podcast to say that I feel like, like crap, and and that’s okay. I don’t want to have it turn into something that turns into another broken item in my room or a broken piece on my body in the form of a scar from a sharp object. I don’t want to self harm.
I want to mitigate this before it becomes that. And, you know, being busy helps, but all that really does is it makes things a holding tank to keep me distracted. That helps sometimes, but sometimes it doesn’t. And there’s a lot that goes on with autism that is just unexplainable. I can’t put it into words to find the words to explain the enormity of the amount of sensory overload that I have from the frustration.
It would kind of be like if I were a mute or if I didn’t have any vocal cords and I were trying to explain something to others. I can form the words, and I can form the thoughts, and the thought processes are all bare, and the inclination is there. It’s the same thing with the social world, with emotions. I can speak to others, but there’s a lot of unspoken things that are lost in translation. So it’s like I’m trying to communicate with people that are picking up smoke signals, if you will.
But I’m not trying to give then I don’t even know I’m giving off, and it’s frustrating. It’s maddening.
It’s why my entire body tells the story of years and decades of not being okay. The first time I ever self harmed was when I went away to College, and by that point I had reached such an apex that the first thought that came to mind was slice open your skin, and it helped. But it’s only a temporary thing, and it’s only a momentary release of I’m good when in fact, I’m not good. And as the years have gone on, my arms are covered in scar tissue, so I don’t know how deep it can get.
And I might not mean to at some point, but accidentally go too far.
And I have actually, but I believe that the Lord has been watching over me as far as my foolishness, my frustration, my inability to cope. I recently overdosed on Benadryl. This would have been two or 3 weeks ago. I didn’t go to the hospital. I didn’t die, but I was not able to talk.
The process of talking just stopped. There are studies that show extended Benadryl use just regular dose over a long period of time. It can lead to dementia. It can lead to cognitive decline as you get older or even in younger people, and it doesn’t metabolize out of the body the same way other things do. It sticks around a whole lot longer than other substances do, and because of that, it’s hard for it to be flushed out of the body.
If I were to go to the hospital, God forbid there would be little at that point they’d be able to do. Because I’ve read several studies where others are younger than me and a little bit older than me have over goes from Benadryl, but I just kind of withdrew throughout my life at different points in time. I’ve taken loads and loads. I’m talking like 100 milligrams a night to try to sleep. It doesn’t work.
Number one, number 2, it just what happened was as I’ve gotten I’m now 37 getting ready to turn 38 next month, September 20, 21. And the part of the brain that processes language and the ability to enunciate and speak those words was just it stopped. It stopped for four days and it scared the hell out of me. But it also I was writing things down and showing a notepad to other people so they could understand. It was embarrassing.
It was frustrating. I did a lot of crying, and there are still some moments where I have like, I don’t stutter, but I have a moment of not the same level, but just a glitch. If that makes any sense. It really was a miracle that nothing else happened to me, but that was a wake up call to not. I tend to overdose on common over the counter things like Robo Tustin or Bene Drill.
Probably not much else other than that. But those two things gave the Dextra Morphin gave me a buzz and it disconnected me, and the Benadryl disconnected me in the sense of putting me to sleep. And when I was in my teenage years, I abused ephedrine because it made me more social. I had more energy, and for a little brief period of time I lost some weight. But really I was drawn to it because of it made me more sociable, kind of a mask, if that makes any sense.
And I was a kid then, and it extended into my 20s in the form of ephedrine buying it online. I’ve taken Benadryl it in order to deal with or not not bother with life, not bother with my depression because it’s been that painful. It’s been that tormenting. I just want I want to sleep forever.
If I can.
I still feel like that? And the thing is, there’s not a pill. There’s not anything I can do to get away from that, other than honestly face this with face this with the Lord. Because without God, I’d be dead by now. I know that for a fact, I’ve wanted to die.
I have asked God to take me home early. Recently I have asked him that I can’t stand depression. I hate it. I hate despairing unto death. But guess what?
That’s nothing. That’s not uncommon to man because you read in the Scriptures. There are quite a few people that despaired unto death that we’re like. Okay, God, take me home. I’m ready to go now.
And God was like, No, I am your strength. I am your refuge. Seek me and I will carry you.
He has carried me, and I can’t carry myself anymore. I just can’t. I’ve been unemployed for since 2019. I was so desperate to work. I took a job that wasn’t suited to me, and I just couldn’t no matter how hard I tried.