Jump to content
Mental Support Community

Who knows?


Recommended Posts

I have no real idea why I'm posting this. I really don't. No one can really help me with my problems; not anyone on the internet anyway. There appears to be something about these anonymous "tell-alls" that seem to be soothing in a way. (I recently emailed the Samaritans, and must say that the writing of the email helped much more than the response I received.)

So, with that poor excuse, I suppose I'll begin. Feel free to delete, chop, or incinerate this post as you see fit; there's very little reason to clutter up your boards with nonsense.

Let's start with me, I guess. I'm a twenty year old male majoring in Music Composition at college. A daring choice, I suppose, but there's little else that I can really do. My financial crux depends on that particular major.

And I do enjoy it. Well, that's an understatement. I love music. I love writing it, playing it, studying it. But I'm never going to be a successful composer.

"But, Anonyplause," as I'm sure the reader would say, "How would you know your future? You're not psychic!"

It's because I don't have what it takes to be a musician.

Talent? Well, sure. I suppose there's some of that, considering the bulk of my college costs are paid solely by music talent scholarships. But it has to do with me. As long as I end up with my personality, my social aloofness, my insecurities with the world, talent will never amount to anything.

And I want to get rid of those things, but every time I try, it only gets worse, or backfires. As if there's something ingrained in me that doesn't want me to succeed; that's mocking every attempt I make to go further in the world in a mocking voice. A continuous "Nah nah-nah boo boo" always hanging over my head.

I suppose I should be giving examples so you can understand more, hmm? Let's begin with my social relations then. Something's wrong with me. How do I know? I can always read it in the way people talk to me. There's always a sort of trepidation, or it will seem like they want to dumb down everything they say to me, or there will be some sort of sly smirk on their face as they're clearly having fun at my expense laughing about this thing that's clearly written on my body that everyone can see about me. What is it? What is it that everyone seems to think is so amusing, and why won't they tell me?

And then, I tell myself, "You're over-reacting," or, "You're reading to much into it," or even the wonderful, "You're just acting crazy." And then that one leads my mind down roads I really don't want to think about.

You see, I feel myself reading the tiniest little bits of body language, sleights of hand, even small changes in tonal inflections as meaningful, as if I can really tell someone's true intentions from that tiny waiver in their voice as they say some bland and non-offensive word. It's almost a gut reaction. I tell myself to stop believing that's what was meant, but it's almost as if I can only bring myself to halfway give up the notion.

For example, certain people that I know, but don't really talk to on a regular occasion will pass by me and say, "Hello," or some other variant. Do you know what my usual first reaction is? Not returning the greeting, as I'm sure most others do, but checking the person to see if they really actually want to talk to me or not. As a result, I rarely actually say much of anything back. Why am I doing this? You'd think I would be able to just turn it off; reach around my back and turn of the switch labeled "stupid" and everything should be fine. But I can't.

But, it gets worse. My sophomore year in college, I became very irate and angry at my suitemates (to clarify, the people that have a dorm room besides yours, but share the same bathroom.) because they would constantly be very loud, would enter the bathroom and yell to no one in particular about how bad the conditions in the bathroom were (but never actually taking any attempts to discuss cleaning the bathroom or doing anything to help the situation except complain) and would throw basketballs against the wall at length (They were on the basketball team, you see, so clearly they had to express that to EVERYONE by throwing said balls against the wall. :-/ ) And so, I had recently just gotten through a rough patch with my roommate, which is a whole 'nother story. In a nutshell, he would leave the door wide open (not unlocked, not even slightly ajar, but wide open) and then go to do laundry (which was in a completely different building, 15 min. minimum before you would return to the room.) go to lunch, and worst of all, go to hour or hour and a half long classes while NO ONE was in the room. He did this because it was hot, which I sympathized with, but it takes less than a minute to slip into the dorms, walk into an empty, unlocked room, grab a laptop, and walk out undetected. I was worried about my things, so I complained about it enough and he decided to move out, making me feel like I was doing something wrong, which in turn made me very angry. I'm sure that's what agitated what was about to come.

So one day, I was feeling in particularly bad spirits, so I came home and turned on music without my headphones. I rarely do this, but keep in mind that people usually turn on music extremely loud in these dorms well after quiet hours (I was doing this before quiet hours. I wouldn't be that inconsiderate) including my suitemates who lived next door. Well, during a visit to the bathroom, I overheard my suitemates talking to each other. Apparently, I was "stupid" for playing my music at what was apparently such a ridiculous volume, and that's what sort of flipped the switch. I suppose I have some bad memories associated with the word, which I'll get to later, but I'll officially say that I "over-reacted."

My method of revenge?


Notecards placed in the bathroom with silly little messages about how Benji was causing dogs across the world to commit suicide due to his heroism, or how Constantinople annoyed me because it was so hard to pronounce. I created a shrine to a toilet god and offered "offerings" and other completely ridiculous things. The bathroom would be littered with these notes. They called Crisis Prevention on me twice, though I never explained to them this was me "getting even."

And then one day I thought about it. How in the world was that "getting even?" Well, they didn't go in the bathroom and scream about the conditions anymore. Instead, it was about how crazy their suitemate was. I suppose there was something about causing them distress to the point to where they decided to call someone that was appealing?

At any rate, now that I'm out of the moment, I realize how bizarre and strange my behavior was. In fact, it doesn't even really make sense. I'm sure you're asking, "how does this relate to what you were saying before?"

Well, ever since Crisis Prevention was called the second time, an acquaintance of mine, who also happened to be a Resident Assistant, began just randomly talking to me much more than usual. You see, the second time Crisis Prevention was called, the Head Resident of the dorm was involved as well. And me, with my... whatever you wanted to call it, immediately linked the two. And it still is going on to this day, but it's starting to seep into the rest of my life. It feels as if the bulk of my professors were told about this. Sometimes, like in my instrumental lessons or my composition lessons, it feels as if they are "holding back" on the criticisms, sometimes even out-and-out lying, to try to say things in a way to make sure that I don't "go crazy" again. And, even worse, it feels that when people invite me to things, they've been told about my "antisocial" behavior and that they need to extend a hand to help me. But, I would say worst of all, would be that I can't shake the sneaking suspicion that I was roomed with one of my roommates I'm living with this year (I've since moved out of the dorms into an apartment-like suite, but the Head Resident from those dorms are in control of these this year.) who also is friends with the Head Resident to "keep tabs" on me.

And, of course, when he's speaking to me, it's as if he's walking on eggshells to make sure A.) He can get through whatever problem I can't see that everyone has fun with, and B.) To make sure that I don't have an episode like I did last year.

That's ridiculous! I mean, that seriously sounds like the hilariously bad plot to some terrible movie. But then I stop laughing and realize that I'm living in it. The silver screen doesn't belong in real life.

Oh yes, I guess I should explain my problem with the word "Stupid." Well, in high school, due to my lacking grades (in certain subjects) and lack of social adeptness, I would sit in dark walkways behind the school, or even at times just in the bathroom, writing the word "Stupid" on my arm with a pen. I'm not really sure why I did it; perhaps some form of relief? A more placid way of cutting?


Link to comment
Share on other sites

But I didn't just write it on my arm, I believed it. It seemed like the only logical conclusion. People were having fun with me because I was mentally retarded in some fashion. Nevermind that I was in AP Calculus, though admittedly just scraping by with a C. Nevermind that I was writing music and devoting time to learning an instrument. No, I had convinced myself that I was just deluding myself and that I really was stupid. I convinced myself that the "Talented and Gifted" classes I was enrolled in during elementary school were really just special ed classes and I had been lied to for my own sake.

And also in that equation was my sexual... "awakening," to use disgustingly flowery language. You see, I really wish that it was clear-cut. That I could just say that I'm straight/gay/bi/whatever and be done with it. But it appears, just through the random stroke of luck, that I've been stricken with a quite a few fetishes. And these fetishes are ALL that I'm really interested in. Intercourse, and even most forms of outercourse, are not appealing to me. I won't go into details, this isn't the Sex board, and I'm sure none of you would be interested in hearing the details anyway; that is, out of the the zero people that have actually read this post.

So I convinced myself that I was just a really stupid person. I gained a small bit of confidence my senior year in high school, repelling those little voices and thoughts in your head that tell you to just go in the bathroom, open the medicine cabinet, and end it all, and I was feeling very brave. I felt that everything was going to go great! I was going to be on top of the world, and become a wonderful musician. I'd blossom, and become open and wonderful and caring. All of that was to happen in college.

And clearly it didn't.

In fact, I would say it became worse. I became more socially withdrawn. I don't have friends, in reality. Not friends that you go out to the movies with, or have a fun dinner with in the cafeteria. No, my evenings are spent looking up things on the internet and furthering my borderline unhealthy interest in making and playing video games. Yes, I spend lots of time creating games for the OHRRPGCE (which you can Google, if you're interested) but that's never going to be a conversation.

Do I want to be accepted, have tons of friends? Well, sure. Sometimes. But then I think about how I get so nervous and stupid in front of crowds of people, or even just one person for that matter, and I realize I'd never be able to have friends like that. I have lots of tells that show I'm nervous in a social situation, one in particular is rubbing my eye. It's as if my throat chokes up, and I'm quite likely to say something ridiculous, so I prevent myself from doing so. Of course, I also think people don't really like me, or really want me to be there mucking up what could have been a fun time.

And then, there are some rare times when I find that "stupid" switch on my back and flip it the other way. And then I find myself talking much more than usual, saying anything that comes to mind. Be it funny, bizarre, offensive, I've said it all. And then, usually after I come off the high, I'll feel terrible about it, and those thoughts pervade my mind again about how much the people really hate you now that you've show how much of a terrible person you really are.

But, is that person really me? The one that says anything and everything, as inappropriate as it may be? Do I really want that?

I am so selfish and narcissistic. Why would people spend so much time thinking about little ol' me? I tell myself I'm being dumb, that I just need to grow up.

And, I guess I'll pop this in, even though it doesn't fit in the stream of consciousness I've presented here so far. I remember, when I was much younger in high school, one day while I was looking up things on YouTube, I was tricked into watching a screamer; you probably know it, the K-Fee ad where the car is driving by the trees, stops immediately, and a zombie jumps out from the bottom of the screen and screams. It's been since that day that I've been feeling very scared about surfing the internet. And not just surfing the internet, sometimes, I fear things are going to pop out from behind doors or walls. Whenever I go into a bathroom, if the shower has a curtain on it, I have to open it all the way. I get very nervous in dark rooms, and sometimes even have a hard time sleeping with the lights off. Now, this sort of comes and goes in waves; some days it's nonexistant, some days it's screaming me in the face. Before that incident with YouTube, I remember I would be able to watch scary movies and just laugh. Nothing scared me. And now, I'm a pussycat. Sometimes, I even fear (quite irrationally) that some sort of malware could be sent to my computer, turning the entire thing into a screamer.

That's a hard thing to admit.

Sometimes, I think, maybe I have some sort of mental disorder that's causing this. Some sort of chemical imbalance in the brain that's ruining my life. But I know that I'm just kidding myself. I want it to be that easy, but I know it's not. I'm more that certain that all of this is my fault, and my fault alone, and I should be ashamed of myself for trying to put myself into the group of poor souls that are actually afflicted with this sort of thing.

So, I'm considering talking with our school's counseling services. I know they won't be able to help me, and probably will try to refer me to some sort of psychiatric care, which I most definitely would not be able to afford. I have no health insurance, limited money, what can I do? But, I feel, maybe I should just talk to them anyway, but then it scares me. What if they try to send me to the hospital if I let slip my suicidal thoughts and, in some cases, near attempts? I'm afraid to find myself in that situation. I got the nerve to go schedule an appointment a few days ago after weeks of deliberation, but turns out that they were not in. Of course, they called me and left a message, but I've gone back to being too afraid to do it again.

But you know what? I have to do this. Don't I? I mean, if I sit here and never let this out to someone live in person, I just might go off the deep end and actually kill myself. And I'm afraid to do that. Even though my life is turning into a ridiculous nightmare, I still don't want to die quite yet until I find out there's no hope. So what if they can't help, at least I've tried, right?

Well, I suppose that's enough blabbing. I suppose I haven't really asked any questions, just wanted to release some emotions. As I said before, feel free to destroy this thread, and even ban me if it seems appropriate. This isn't really want these forums are for, but, as I said before, I'm not really sure why I'm posting here. Attention, I guess? Or maybe I'm subconsciously trying to warm up for when I'm going to have to say these things in person to somebody someday.

Well, to anyone still reading this far, sorry for wasting your time. I wish I had a good punchline to give you at least to make it slightly worthwhile, but I don't.


Link to comment
Share on other sites

No great words of wisdom...... but I wanted you to know that I read every word.

I would make that call again and try to get an appointment... write down before what you want to say and if you find you cannot talk ... just give the list or letter or outline or whatever to the person and they can ask you questions.... Just a suggestion....

You are not way out there... I have some of the feelings you have at times....

Be safe!


PS I am sure someone smarter than me will come along... so check back!:)

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Thank you for responding.

I would make that call again and try to get an appointment... write down before what you want to say and if you find you cannot talk ... just give the list or letter or outline or whatever to the person and they can ask you questions.... Just a suggestion....

That sounds like a good suggestion.

It's funny to read over what I've written. My problems seem much less serious when they're all laid out in words to me, but, nevertheless, I think it's important to talk to someone.



Link to comment
Share on other sites

Hi Anonyplause I too have read every word, and found alot of simularity to myself. Very Interesting! Have you ever considered on being a writer? I honestly think you'd make a damn good writer! And that's talking from my heart.

You say your into Music. My Son's just like you with his music, only he's into becoming a D.J. Professionally. He D.J's now, but just for club's and pub's. He too has his own Web Site. Top Floor D.J's. He's names Brad Ashton if you want to give him a whirl. He eat's, drink's and even sleep's music. He's just like you, mad about music and why not!

All's I can say is: Go for it. You never know till you've tried?

Hang on in there!


Link to comment
Share on other sites

Hey there. This is Brad, Paula's son. Yes she got a little bit wrong but heres a little intro.

Im 21yo, been a professional DJ for 4 years and a dance/house music producer for the best part of that. I run a DJ aid forum, if you would like to visit its Lazy Records. To be honest mate the music industry is a wicked place and you expect much support. The important thing is to keep your confidence, thats ur meal ticket. Confidence and sometimes arrogance. Nice guys finish last. If you would like to chat more than please visit the site. Good luck...

Link to comment
Share on other sites


Sometimes you just need a place to talk, is all. You've got a lot of doubt about yourself and how you are going to fit into life. And it sounds like maybe there are some mood issues, but maybe not anything super significant (hard to tell). But talking is what you've expressed needing to do and wanting to do, and if you want to talk, we'll listen and respond.

In the same vein, making that appointment with a counselor sounds like an excellent idea to me, as you will have the opportunity to talk and get some feedback. And such counseling will never again be so freely available to you as it is now as a college student, where you can go to the student health service. take advantage of it now, as you will be paying for it with cash or cash + insurance at a later date.


Link to comment
Share on other sites

hi Anonyplause,

I just wanted to let you know that your post is the reason I decided to sign up for a Community account.

You're not alone, even though it sounds like you feel that way much of the time.

It sounds like the Revenge of the Notecards plot you concocted was a creative, non-traditional way to protest the superficialities with which you felt your suitemates bombarded you. It also strikes me that perhaps you were simultaneously making a statement about the uncomfortability of not fitting in, perhaps in the hopes that one of your peers would ask you a deeper question about what you were experiencing. Maybe in a way you were trying to confound, confront and connect, all at the same time, which is quite a unique and inventive set of objectives to attempt to accomplish in a single swoop.

And, as with most complex statements, it was grossly misunderdstood by simpler minds, unfortunately to your detriment.

Have you had any further thoughts since you originally posted? It would be quite an interesting experiment to see how an on-campus mental health professional would respond to your tactical approach.

Keep plotting. We'd love to be in on it.


Link to comment
Share on other sites

Join the conversation

You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.
Note: Your post will require moderator approval before it will be visible.

Reply to this topic...

×   Pasted as rich text.   Paste as plain text instead

  Only 75 emoji are allowed.

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead

×   Your previous content has been restored.   Clear editor

×   You cannot paste images directly. Upload or insert images from URL.

  • Create New...