But Not Tonight

Its twenty minutes past midnight and I'm still awake.

Usually, I stay awake a few hours after everybody else because all the awaits me on the other side of sleep is getting up again. Showering again. Getting dressed again. Going to work again.

My pregnant wife is asleep on the bed behind me. I carefully push the keys of the keyboard so my tak-tak-taking doesn't disturb her. Everything in life is going well. A new home, a baby on the way, an okay-enough job for now.

But everything doesn't feel well. I feel sad and angry most of the time. In past attempts to explain this feeling, I've described it as "being gray." Nothing excites me much, the only emotion I feel very often anymore is frustration or sadness. In moments that I should feel happy and excited to be alive is when the gray feeling is the worst. A tight, this-definitely-looks-fake smile camouflages my apathy. I don't want to be alive, but nobody can know.

I don't have anybody to talk to about my not-depression. Oh yes, I've had counseling for my "issues," whatever they are. My first attempt at seeking help fell flat, after listening to my introduction and complaints (symptoms?) the psychotherapist leaned in and told me I "probably have autism" and that's why I feel the way I do. We spent the remaining 30 minutes of our one-hour session talking about her family, her children, and some autistic people she knows of. I did not go back, and it would be five long years before I even tried to get help again.

My next counseling experience was much better. Unfortunately, after about a year of steady progress, I became "too well" to be continue the treatment/counseling. That was two years ago.

Talking to my friends about it yielded mixed responses. "Do you ever, I don't know, feel like you just don't want to be alive anymore?" I asked my friend over messenger. Out of the blue, no icebreaker, just right into it. It was 1 a.m. but I knew he was online and I was struggling. The ". . ." appeared and disappeared repeatedly for about a minute before "No, not really" appeared on the screen. "Ah, alright." I replied, closing the chat window in an attempt to feel less embarrassed, less rejected.

I'm dying right in front of you, how can you not tell. I catch myself thinking this often as I shuffle from computer chair to coffee pot to and back again. I feel seen, but unseen. Alone, but I live in a house with three (soon to be four) other people.

Picking up a knife to chop vegetables sends uncomfortable thoughts into my head. How much would it hurt if I stabbed myself? How messy would it be? I would never do anything to harm myself, I can't. One of my parents died when I was still just a stupid kid, I'm not going to let me son be fatherless. I still get the thoughts though. I fantasize about wrapping my car around a tree, a power pole, a road sign, as I drive to work.

Its the worst at night. Everybody else is asleep, but this is my free time, damnit and I'm gonna [not] enjoy it if for nothing other than spite. I open a show, watch thirty seconds of it and turn it off. That's not what I want to do. I open a video game and before I even hit the login screen I'm bored and don't want that either. I scroll mindlessly through memes and Reddit even though I know that's just junkfood for my brain. I find myself googling "I don't want to be alive" once or twice a week. "GET HELP," the first result says, "here's the phone number."

No thanks, I'm fine. I think to myself as I close out yet another search window. Maybe sometime I'll give them a call.

But not tonight.

Not tonight.