#1 ·
Hey there,
I’m a guy in my late 20s. I deal with some pretty heavy mental health issues, and honestly, it makes finding a girlfriend feel impossible. It's hard to be that "positive," witty, or upbeat person everyone wants to date when you just can't get there. To be blunt, it feels like a lost cause. Even in psychiatric wards, finding a connection seems out of reach—those women (if there are any younger ones around) are often dealing with even more intense struggles, and many are already tied up in relationships anyway.
I’ve never actually had anything I’d call a real relationship. Just a few fleeting moments, a couple of dates. In the last few years, even those have dried up. Maybe it’s because, at this age, women are looking for men who are established and experienced. Beyond my disability, the fact that I’m unable to work and rely on disability benefits seems to be a massive red flag for people. They act like I should be perfectly capable of doing everything just like they are. I constantly hear things like: "Well, why don't you try this?" "Why not try dating online?" "Why don't you go back to school?"
Umm... because my mental state gets so bad that I hit these total "mental blackouts"? Where I can't move from a single webpage for three hours? Or where I can't even string two coherent sentences together?
I even looked for happiness halfway across the world, because here in the States (and really everywhere in the West), women seem to expect way too much. They think that regardless of a twenty-page medical report from a panel of specialists, I should be able to do everything. Because I have hands, feet, sight, and hearing... I should be fine, right? They just think I'm lazy. And let's face it, what girl wants a lazy boyfriend? There were a few... One girl, I remember... maybe I should have overlooked her lack of looks. She accepted me when she was working as a janitor. But man, I thought I deserved someone better-looking. Maybe I blew my only shot. With everyone else, it's always the same line: "Nothing is wrong with you!" "We're all a little crazy, we still make it work!" "It's all in your head!" Just incredibly ignorant stuff.
And the irony is, even those women won't view me as an equal partner. Women struggling with even more severe disorders demand more than I could ever provide.
It’s pathetic. When I Google "Love for mentally ill," Google automatically corrects it to "Love for physically ill." How lovely. It’s like all our rights have been stripped away. And heaven forbid I receive my $417 monthly disability check. Like, am I supposed to live totally alone in my own apartment on that? Rent and utilities will easily swallow up the whole $417. But hey, I can do everything! I'm smart, I'm sharp, I've got strength... I can dig holes, I could be an electrician... Because apparently, despite a panel of over five experts saying I CANNOT, I definitely CAN... because random people on the street say I can.
And of course, if you aren't working, you don't deserve love. "Get a hobby, surround yourself with cats and dogs..." Man, I hear such nonsense I wonder who the crazy one actually is. A hobby and a cat farm isn't a substitute for needing love. A life partner. Maybe even marriage. Even Elon Musk was considered a madman, messing around with electricity until he died. He was eccentric, sure. But luckily, his wild ideas paid off. Maybe I would too, if I were on his level. Or even 20% of his level. But I need love, a partner. Not some careerist or high-achiever... Just an ordinary girl with problems like mine. An emo girl. Someone depressed. Someone struggling. That girl deserves love too. But paradoxically, she's looking for some superstar guy she doesn't even deserve. I could settle for the lowest rung, but the lowest rung refuses to settle for the lowest rung of men.
A man can be with a woman at the bottom of the social ladder. And that's okay... that's love.
But the weakest, lowest-ranking men don't stand a chance with any girl. Even sex workers have turned me down because, get this, I'm a 28-year-old virgin... As if that's possible. They expect me to have five arms, seven legs, and six eyes. It's sad, especially since their job is to be with anyone.
Tragic...
All of this pushes me toward one final decision... Living another 30 or 40 years... in total isolation... when my heart rate spikes to 150 from pure panic and loneliness. I don't see myself lasting that long.
I have occasional check-ins with a small part of my family. Just so they can see if I'm lying dead on the floor after swallowing poison. Every now and then... There are issues within my family, a real den of vipers. Political infighting and all that. So much so that if I even used my real last name, I'd probably be rejected from volunteering too. It's not like I'm changing my name to Hitler. But honestly, in this country, I think I'd get more respect with a name like Hitler.
My psychiatrist is pushing day programs on me (I’ve actually moved to a different city now), and I told her straight up: the women there are absolutely miserable. They aren't capable of any kind of real connection. She wants me to join these groups filled mostly with people in their 40s and older who deal with delusions and stuff that genuinely terrifies you. And she actually expects me, a young guy, to strike up friendships with them. Okay, so I guess I don't deserve to hang out with normal people. Just fellow psych patients. Most of whom are doing way worse than I am. At the end of the day, she doesn't even know what she's doing—she thinks popping some pills is going to make a person happy... and that if I'm lucky and the waiting room isn't packed, I might get 10 or 15 minutes of her time once every three months. Then maybe every four. Or six. Or a year... then just drop dead.
It puts me in this endless suicidal loop. Because apparently, I don't have the right to love. Is it because I'm not working? Because I'm lazy? Or am I just crazy?
Honestly, I've cried so much that I've run dry. There's nothing left. If I do it one last time... before the very end... because looking at another 40 years like this... I see absolutely no way to survive.
I've had these "pearls of wisdom" sent to my DMs—people sending me those wellness influencer recipes claiming they'll completely overhaul my life. Change this, fix that... they list at least 50 different things. Because, hey... I can! Why not just cancel my disability too? While I'm at it, why not just go back to work?
I don't know... I don't even know why I'm posting this... Maybe I'm subconsciously hoping to find a girlfriend this way. Even on the dating sites here in the USA, I haven't found anything decent. So don't give me any grief. Nobody wants an Omega... But for an Omega woman, there's always some "benevolent" guy waiting in the wings.
Anyone else gone through this, or got any ideas? A suicide pact? XD Sarcasm, I know, I know—that gets you flagged. Please don't take it seriously. There's still a little bit of dark humor left in me.
Best.
I’m a guy in my late 20s. I deal with some pretty heavy mental health issues, and honestly, it makes finding a girlfriend feel impossible. It's hard to be that "positive," witty, or upbeat person everyone wants to date when you just can't get there. To be blunt, it feels like a lost cause. Even in psychiatric wards, finding a connection seems out of reach—those women (if there are any younger ones around) are often dealing with even more intense struggles, and many are already tied up in relationships anyway.
I’ve never actually had anything I’d call a real relationship. Just a few fleeting moments, a couple of dates. In the last few years, even those have dried up. Maybe it’s because, at this age, women are looking for men who are established and experienced. Beyond my disability, the fact that I’m unable to work and rely on disability benefits seems to be a massive red flag for people. They act like I should be perfectly capable of doing everything just like they are. I constantly hear things like: "Well, why don't you try this?" "Why not try dating online?" "Why don't you go back to school?"
Umm... because my mental state gets so bad that I hit these total "mental blackouts"? Where I can't move from a single webpage for three hours? Or where I can't even string two coherent sentences together?
I even looked for happiness halfway across the world, because here in the States (and really everywhere in the West), women seem to expect way too much. They think that regardless of a twenty-page medical report from a panel of specialists, I should be able to do everything. Because I have hands, feet, sight, and hearing... I should be fine, right? They just think I'm lazy. And let's face it, what girl wants a lazy boyfriend? There were a few... One girl, I remember... maybe I should have overlooked her lack of looks. She accepted me when she was working as a janitor. But man, I thought I deserved someone better-looking. Maybe I blew my only shot. With everyone else, it's always the same line: "Nothing is wrong with you!" "We're all a little crazy, we still make it work!" "It's all in your head!" Just incredibly ignorant stuff.
And the irony is, even those women won't view me as an equal partner. Women struggling with even more severe disorders demand more than I could ever provide.
It’s pathetic. When I Google "Love for mentally ill," Google automatically corrects it to "Love for physically ill." How lovely. It’s like all our rights have been stripped away. And heaven forbid I receive my $417 monthly disability check. Like, am I supposed to live totally alone in my own apartment on that? Rent and utilities will easily swallow up the whole $417. But hey, I can do everything! I'm smart, I'm sharp, I've got strength... I can dig holes, I could be an electrician... Because apparently, despite a panel of over five experts saying I CANNOT, I definitely CAN... because random people on the street say I can.
And of course, if you aren't working, you don't deserve love. "Get a hobby, surround yourself with cats and dogs..." Man, I hear such nonsense I wonder who the crazy one actually is. A hobby and a cat farm isn't a substitute for needing love. A life partner. Maybe even marriage. Even Elon Musk was considered a madman, messing around with electricity until he died. He was eccentric, sure. But luckily, his wild ideas paid off. Maybe I would too, if I were on his level. Or even 20% of his level. But I need love, a partner. Not some careerist or high-achiever... Just an ordinary girl with problems like mine. An emo girl. Someone depressed. Someone struggling. That girl deserves love too. But paradoxically, she's looking for some superstar guy she doesn't even deserve. I could settle for the lowest rung, but the lowest rung refuses to settle for the lowest rung of men.
A man can be with a woman at the bottom of the social ladder. And that's okay... that's love.
But the weakest, lowest-ranking men don't stand a chance with any girl. Even sex workers have turned me down because, get this, I'm a 28-year-old virgin... As if that's possible. They expect me to have five arms, seven legs, and six eyes. It's sad, especially since their job is to be with anyone.
Tragic...
All of this pushes me toward one final decision... Living another 30 or 40 years... in total isolation... when my heart rate spikes to 150 from pure panic and loneliness. I don't see myself lasting that long.
I have occasional check-ins with a small part of my family. Just so they can see if I'm lying dead on the floor after swallowing poison. Every now and then... There are issues within my family, a real den of vipers. Political infighting and all that. So much so that if I even used my real last name, I'd probably be rejected from volunteering too. It's not like I'm changing my name to Hitler. But honestly, in this country, I think I'd get more respect with a name like Hitler.
My psychiatrist is pushing day programs on me (I’ve actually moved to a different city now), and I told her straight up: the women there are absolutely miserable. They aren't capable of any kind of real connection. She wants me to join these groups filled mostly with people in their 40s and older who deal with delusions and stuff that genuinely terrifies you. And she actually expects me, a young guy, to strike up friendships with them. Okay, so I guess I don't deserve to hang out with normal people. Just fellow psych patients. Most of whom are doing way worse than I am. At the end of the day, she doesn't even know what she's doing—she thinks popping some pills is going to make a person happy... and that if I'm lucky and the waiting room isn't packed, I might get 10 or 15 minutes of her time once every three months. Then maybe every four. Or six. Or a year... then just drop dead.
It puts me in this endless suicidal loop. Because apparently, I don't have the right to love. Is it because I'm not working? Because I'm lazy? Or am I just crazy?
Honestly, I've cried so much that I've run dry. There's nothing left. If I do it one last time... before the very end... because looking at another 40 years like this... I see absolutely no way to survive.
I've had these "pearls of wisdom" sent to my DMs—people sending me those wellness influencer recipes claiming they'll completely overhaul my life. Change this, fix that... they list at least 50 different things. Because, hey... I can! Why not just cancel my disability too? While I'm at it, why not just go back to work?
I don't know... I don't even know why I'm posting this... Maybe I'm subconsciously hoping to find a girlfriend this way. Even on the dating sites here in the USA, I haven't found anything decent. So don't give me any grief. Nobody wants an Omega... But for an Omega woman, there's always some "benevolent" guy waiting in the wings.
Anyone else gone through this, or got any ideas? A suicide pact? XD Sarcasm, I know, I know—that gets you flagged. Please don't take it seriously. There's still a little bit of dark humor left in me.
Best.