Depressed preoccupation with death, lots of crying?

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When I was about 13 or 14, I remember sitting in my father's living room with him, and this sadness came over me. Me and my father would eventually be dead. We all had to die. And I would never be able to sit in his apartment talking to him again. Then I thought about the end of the world. What would we say if this was the last time we did this, and we both knew it? What if some big catastrophe was about to happen, and there was nothing we could do about it, and all we could do was spend the last few precious moments together talking or whatever? What if THIS was it? And I got so sad, and knowing that the sadness wasted more time and took more time away from our conversations or whatever, that made me even sadder.


Another time, when I was 12 and in the hospital with a throat abcess so bad it hurt like hell to move my neck, I thought about the other kids in the hospital who were dying and then wondered, what if I got so sick I was dying too? What if there was some complication and they couldn't get it all out? I imagined myself lying still, perhaps unconscious, on a bed while my mother sat beside me singing one of those sweet, depressing songs, I think "In the arms of the angels", that Sarah M. song, and stroking my head, in this dark candlelit room. I got so so depressed.


Another time when I was 10, in grade 5, I was wearing this jumper and blouse I hated that my mother made me wear, I thought it made me look like a goody-two-shoes dork, and I imagined, wouldn't it be so awful if I died that day and my mother chose to bury me in it? I imagined myself lying in a casket (an open casket at a funeral! As if wearing the jumper and blouse wasn't enough humiliation, I was lying DEAD in it for everyone to see, and their last memory of me would be me in that awful jumper! What if they thought I wanted to be buried in that, that it was my favorite outfit or something? Them seeing me dead even in clothes I liked would be humiliation enough for me; I didn't want people to remember me as a DEAD THING!


My imagination was really in overdrive. Maybe I needed Ritalin or an antidepressant even then.

I sometimes feel the same way. I don't have much to offer in the way of advice, except that, maybe there's some small chance, that some day, death won't be inevitable. I'm probably not helping much. I just though it's even worse when nobody even replys.

A great solution is to read Slaughterhouse Five, then think about it all for a long time, then come out the other end deciding that death is actually quite a comforting concept. No matter how terrible things are and how worn out and down you may get, you've got the fact that one day it'll end and you'll get laid down in the ground, then people'll cry because they miss you and pretend they loved you and you were fantastic for a bit, then most'll leave you along, except the people who you were really close to you.

That sounds like a pretty damn satisfying ending to me!

Get counselling. It seems to me that your problems are not that specific to having aspersers. It seems like the past is what is haunting very badly thus effecting you in present and future.

This is the opposite of my unhappiness that is solely down having aspergers, that needs a solution in regards to my aspergers syndrome to handle the present and future.

Counsellor will help you discover your negative thoughts.

My problem, though I didn't know how to explain it, was simple. I would be very sad and cry in a beautiful, happy, loving situation, not, as people thought and turned bitter against me about, because I hated it all, but because I loved it so much and was afraid that it wouldn't last, or rather, knew that it wouldn't last. That we would all die, we might an probably would all be separated, we might and probably would never see each other again... and momentos to dead or gone people or good times get destroyed too...