So, this post is only a first-person account and is not representative of other stoics out there.

With that said, now I proceed with lame psychoanalysis of myself by myself for others to comment on or criticize.

Having grown up without a strong father figure, I resorted in my teens to reading Marcus Aurelius Meditations. The book was actually a gift from my own father, possibly representing his own awareness of future shortcomings as a father towards his son.

I began reading and trying to practice negative visualization every day. I have always had low self-esteem and have felt like many things in the world are too difficult, or due to laziness, hard to obtain. My confidence in my own abilities has always been low. I failed in many tasks and have "wallowed" my whole life.

Therefore because of this, I resorted to reading the Enchiridion by Epictetus in combination with the Meditations. My fixation with Stoicism as a philosophy of life has been mired with a feeling of Schopenhauerian pessimism and defeat. Schopenhauer then became my guiding philosophy in life, as not how I ought to live, but how life actually is. This all created a distorted vision of life, which has been mostly composed of overgeneralizations, hyperbole, and ultimately depression.

Due to new circumstances, I moved back to the States with a feeling of a fresh start. Yet, the Stoic practice of negative visualizations and Schopenhauerian pessimism (which is very comforting and "stuck" with me) got into my way of viewing reality. I was stuck within myself and didn't know any solution to the situation. I had failed an attempt at the USAF due to my issues with lack of confidence and low self-esteem. I had also been diagnosed with schizophrenia before I came to the states. I lived in denial for a good period, as the diagnosis created the impression in my life that I was disabled or fundamentally flawed.

With the backstory finished, I feel as though I can never be a good Stoic, and have resorted to supplements, drugs, and self-therapy to "fix" myself. Ultimately, I ended up on disability and we're now in the present.

My stoic philosophy due to the above has morphed into a hybrid of Cynicism (because I am a dysfunctional member of society living on disability) and Stoicism (which has always been a crutch I created to lean on).

Going deeper, I do not like emotions, anything that evokes them is avoided by myself. Stoicism may have played a role in this sentiment. I strive to be rational and in control at all times, and view emotions as unhealthy and not conducive towards this goal. I have been through therapy, learned Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, and have accepted my diagnosis.

Now, psychologically, there is no reason for me to be a Stoic. I have failed at most of what I wanted to achieve and live together with my mother. I do not foresee these circumstances changing anytime soon and have grown to be a content and satisfied pig if you will. My nickname "Wallows" reflects this state.

Now to summarize:

I wanted to become a Stoic but have given up on trying to be one.
I want to be left alone and live out my years with my mother while on disability.
I post on these forums as a way of expressing myself.
I do not like my emotions and avoid situations that would excite them, Stoicism meshes into this strange world-view.
I have tried many medications, am on medication, and not many helped.
I have sought therapy; but, do not want to change myself, and am satisfied as a pig just the way I am.
My low-self esteem and abysmal confidence manifest in these frantic and hyperbolic posts about myself. Note, please, that I do not derive pleasure of you reading about me, I am only looking to understand myself and my motivations better.

Now, looking towards the future with all that said. I have started looking inward, and have modified myself to start limiting my wants and only address needs. Buddhist philosophy appeals to me now, due to being somewhat inferior and dysfunctional. Buddhism is life-affirming and if I can master the art of compassion, I feel as though I might be able to come out of my self-made cocoon. I have also resorted to Viktor Frankl's logotherapy, to find meaning in the cards that have been dealt with me. I find meaning and satisfaction in helping my mother. We have nobody else to resort to for help, and I try and become moral support for her. Given my age, the status of mental health, depression, and anxiety, along with my diagnosis, I do not see our circumstances changing. I will continue to live, desire my pessimism and low-self esteem with my mother, and we will be happy together.

That is my tale I have been wanting to form into some coherent whole, and for you, the reader, to criticise or agree or disagree with.

Sorry for the long post about "me"; but, had I been less neurotic or angsty, it would have never have arisen.

Thank you for your time and patience.