The ironic part is that I've always been a depressive. From very early on in my life, I always leaned toward the dark and the morose. My interest in psychology began because of my depressive tendencies and my interest in, what was then the new miracle for depression, the SSRI's. I remember taking the Beck Depression Inventory once when I was stuck in a closet with nothing else to do. It was at the University of Chicago hospital and I was observing a neuropsychology evaluation where people with brain damage would come and get their issues assessed. Stuck in a closet with a closed circuit tv and nothing else, I decided to look over some of the tests and ended up scoring somewhere above moderately depressed, yet below insanely suicidal. I think back on that now and know nothing but regret over it. Maybe it's just the fatalistic way that my mind works, but I can't help but see God or the universe with a sneer on his/its face, 'You whiny little bitch. I'll give you something real to cry about.' Now, you might say that God is benevolent or that it's only random chance and you maybe right. Then again....
I can't help but let it get to me. So much potential and promise and then notta. I don't think I'm really tooting my own horn here, but I'm a pretty bright sort of guy as far as intelligence is normally assessed. I'm not a genius or anything but if you can believe standardized tests and academic achievement, I'm hardly a slack-jawed mouth breather. I'm not willing to say I could have been anything I wanted, far from it, but I could have been something. All the advanced degrees and published journal articles now mean nothing. Perhaps they always meant nothing but at least they could be something to cling to. Now, they only make the difference seem even more stark and tragic.
When things really started to go wrong, I always told myself that I would just off myself once my parents died. I've always been a firm believer that a person should be able to decide when to end their own lives. As I've phrased it in the past, if no one else has the right to end my life, then no one else should have the right to have me continue it. What has always held my hand is that I just can't see bringing any more tragedy into the lives of my relatives. If it's not enough that I'm a gimpy lump, I certainly wouldn't want to compound the debt. Despite what they say, it can't be easy for them to have watched me end up like this. There's a term that the medical profession often uses for a baby who fails to meet benchmarks and develop normally, failure to thrive. I always thought that about summed things up for me too.
I always knew that disability would be a tipping point for me. Once I went down that path there was a clear acknowledgment that I had joined the ranks of the world's useless. Fluff it up however you want, but we are the leeches of this world, fucked by fate, and a miserable and pathetic lot. Sometimes I think the government should just soylent green the lot of us. As scrooge said, maybe we should just get on with it and decrease the surplus population. Maybe one day.