Is giving up really the easy option? Let me imagine for a second what giving up would be like…
Giving up on life – The fear
I’d end up on a diet of endless pizzas, probably pepperoni. Stare at the pepperoni like it was a symbol of my life (there one minute and gone the next). I’d swig cans of soda feeling the fizz for the faintest of time before feeling faint after the sugar high plummets to a sugar low. I’d hope for a fizzy revival of my passions before succumbing to the little voice in my head which by the way, now overpowers my want to get up and even take a shower. What would I then do? I’d probably find the hoodie I hate most as the one to wear as by this point, it’s the only one that’s wearable. ‘If it doesn’t smell of dead cats, it’ll do’ bring the strategy of how I’d choose what to wear. Probably be a walking fashion faux pas and a hygienic hazard. Speaking of hygienic hazards, I’d then stagger around the room (like an angry old woman) to consider doing the laundry only to fall on top of the pile of filth. After falling on top of the pile, I’d decide against the attempt as ‘tomorrow might be better’
The smell of my cave would now warrant a warning sign outside of the door but obviously, that would not be possible as that would cause alarm bells for my parents. Did I mention I’d still be at my parents? So I’d be the ‘disappointment child’ Anyway, since I’ve mentioned alarms, you could bet your bottom dollar that the snooze button would be going off at all hours of the day as would my flatulence. The only two noises you’d hear from my room and maybe, a sluggish burp. Maybe only drink water when my dehydration levels are exactly that, dehydrated!
I’d end up calling my one and only friend for pizza (as that’s all my diet is) after watching an episode of Friends and then have to cancel because I’m broke. I’d tell my parents I’m having a spring clean in August because I need a clear out however, in reality I’d be selling anything worth selling to buy some stain remover because of those pesky pepperoni pizza slices I’d dropped on the carpet. The central heating would stink the carpet out even more so otherwise. It’s the fear of my fathers wrath rather than my concerned care of the carpet that would worry me. I’d not let my mother into my room anyway with the pretence that ‘I’m working on a massive project which takes up most of my room so I don’t want her to step on it ‘ although in reality, I don’t want her to vomit at the state of the room (let alone the smell) and also she’d call in a therapist (that I’d probably need but be too scared to see). The routine of getting up and sleeping would take up most of my life, only arcing my back up to put my laptop (with broken screen hinges and the one time I had spaghetti spilled in between the keys) on my little bed desk I would made up of pizza boxes. The DIY desk I’d make taped together with duct tape that I’d borrowed (and not yet returned) to put the tongue back in my shoe. Being in the PayPal age, my mother would ‘ pity PayPal’ me and I’d ashamedly accept with a thank you email as by now, looking in my mother’s disappointing eyes would be like telling her I hate her trifle.
At the beginning I’d let myself engage with my own self pity as it would be easy. The insecurities would provide a lot of ammunition to do so. I doubt it could last though. Eventually I’d start to disengage with those that I know and then, most despairingly of all, with myself. A life where you don’t even entertain your own thoughts…
So, how does this sound? Let me think about this. I would have the peace and tranquility of a room. Nobody would bother me. I’d be able to eat pizza all the time. I can have an argument with myself and always win. I can spy on the neighbours. I can survive. But I’d be lonely. Pessimistic. Broken as a human and as a soul. Lost in society. Lost in my laundry. Just so damn lost and entering into a bout of depression all alone. Yeah, I don’t like the sound of that. Doesn’t float my boat to be honest, makes me want to sink the boat. I’ll pass on this. I’m sure you can understand why!
Don’t let depression (or the whiff of it) put you down and out
I can’t bear the thought of this let alone let a reality of this! If you can stop yourself from falling into any combination or sole version of these scenarios, I recommend that you do so. How is a bout of depression and a lack of self respect going to make you happy?! How is giving up on life the answer to anything? It’s not. Whatever position you are in or wherever the depths of despair have gotten to, take a deep breath and come back to centre. Take up yoga. Give up the bad company. Stop the self loathing. Whatever you have to do to be happier… Do it.
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