I know what you’re thinking… “I’m going to tell this depressed person, either to contact professional medical help, call mom dad family or friend, just don’t do it because all life should be valued.”
Please don’t tell me this again. I’ve been to countless therapists over the course of my entire life so far. All I want is for someone to understand why I would want to kill myself, not just make me feel stupid for wanting to, or telling me that God has all the answers, or make me feel bad for being selfish that I want to kill myself. I just want someone to understand.
The problem is I feel like there’s no way to make anyone understand. I suck at talking. Typing seems to be the best way for me to communicate, so I guess that’s why I’m here right now. I have my doubts about it still… Just hoping I can make someone, ANYONE, get it.
I guess I should start with the basics…
I’m almost 22 years old. I’m female. I live in the United States.
I can’t remember a time in my life I didn’t go to therapy. I wasn’t even aware of this always, but, I guess when I was little not only was I diagnosed with ADD and ADHD, but also mild schizophrenia. I don’t think I’ve ever had any hallucinations, but I’m also not sure. So many memories are blurry. I can’t remember if some things actually happened or if my mind invented them, or if they’re dreams.
I don’t even know exactly why I was in therapy so young. All I know is there’s always been something mentally off about me. I have vague memories of somehow knowing this before I ever went to school, and it being confirmed in my mind once I started interacting with kids my age in a less controlled environment. Before it was only Sunday school, now on my first day of the first grade, I’m 5 years old and very naive. Even today as hard as I’m trying to break myself of this, I put way too much faith in people, too much trust at the beginning when I should be thinking about how much I’m sharing about myself.
I remember trying to be nice and make friends, because that’s what I had always been taught to do. I remember the first initial shock I felt when someone was mean to me and I hadn’t done anything wrong.
It seemed like, with the exception of my peers, that everyone in my life was always giving me praise. All the adults who I considered smart were always talking about me… “Oh look how smart she is. What a bright kid. She’s gonna go far in life, you can tell that already.”
Going to school was like the wake up call. “Um, actually no, you’re not special. In fact, you’re not even as good as everyone else.”
My only friend in grade school said we had to be secret friends in order for her to maintain her popularity. I was foolish enough to think this was perfectly fine. I even told her I understood.. Because I did. I knew how much all the kids hated me and how much they’d pick on her if they knew. I thought I was doing a good thing by sparing my friend of what I had to deal with every day.
Middle school wasn’t any better. This was when all the really bad stuff began. I was 12, about to be 13. We had moved from Oregon to New Mexico at this time. At first I was ecstatic. I thought to myself that this was my chance to start EVERYTHING over with a set of completely different and new people. This time I was going to make it good. This time I would make friends and be popular. I promised myself this.
I was so wrong. I didn’t think the kids could be much meaner than they had been in the past, but they were so much worse. All of the sudden, sexual references were involved, most of which I didn’t understand. Somehow I was behind everyone else. I wasn’t interested in sex, I barely knew it existed, but thats what everyone was talking about all the time. I felt stupid for not knowing and being so sheltered. The rest of the kids agreed.
Things got so bad so fast. I couldn’t fathom how everyone could hate me so much. I didn’t do anything, I never did anything… Why did they have to do this to me? School life was bad, but home life could have possibly been worse…
My stepdad has, still does, and always will favor my brother. He is his biological child, and I simply never will be.
Along with my new dark outlook on life, I started dressing to match, which of course was completely unacceptable by my parents. My stepdad was struggling with his alcoholism, which was affecting the rest of the family of course. Me being me, I thought it was all my fault.
School and home combined, I decided there wasn’t a point. Everyone hated me. I tried to kill myself and failed of course. I was just unfortunate enough for someone at school to catch a glimpse of my wrists and report it to a teacher, which landed me in my first mental facility.
It was a nightmare. The kids were ten times worse there than at the school. I didn’t see how being in that place was helping me at all, and, truth be told, it probably wasn’t really helping me at all. I wanted to leave. I was desperate. When I finally got out, things were a tad better at first, and I ended up falling into this pattern for a few years.
Moved back to Oregon to start high school, once again hoping and wanting so badly for this new start to be the one where my life gets better, and of course, it wasn’t. I developed an addiction to sex after losing my V at age 14. I was also addicted to food which made me very overweight.
I would eat so much. I think I was trying to fill a void. I felt like there was this huge empty space that just HAD to be filled, my life depended on it. So I filled it with excessively eating and having random unprotected sex with whatever guy I could find. I know it sounds so bad… It really was.
There was just nothing good enough to make me feel better all the way. I started smoking cigarettes. My high school life was consisted of just this:
Woken up by my grandma or mother. Fight them to let me skip school and go back to sleep. Not allowed. Go to school trying to ignore everything around me so it wouldn’t hurt. I’d go to school with loud headphones, walk through the hall staring at the ground. Just don’t look at anyone, I told myself. I couldn’t stand to see a smirk or hear a giggle, I just KNEW they were directed at me and I just couldn’t take it.
When I wasn’t at school, I was at home, feeling miserable, hating everything, just wanting to be left alone, thinking about suicide, every once in a while I’d attempt by ODing, or cutting, even tried hanging myself a couple times. Sometimes I’d try to kill myself just so I could go back to the mental hospital. The one in New Mexico may have sucked but I did like the ones in Oregon.
I’d attempt, go to the hospital, get out, feel better for a while, only to relapse… Eventually try to commit, go to the hospital… I repeated this more times than I can count. All I wanted was to feel good one way or another, so I did whatever made me feel that way. Thank god I never got into drugs.
I’m already feeling a bit overwhelmed typing this, trying to keep my thoughts in order is obnoxiously difficult for me.
I met my first love over the internet. Now I can recognize the signs of a bad relationship, but when I was 16 it was a combination of not knowing, not caring, and thinking if I broke up with him I’d never have anyone else anyway.
I know deep down his intentions were good, they were just misguided and clouded with his own self esteem problems and worries. When they say “You cannot love someone until you love yourself” it’s the truth. He was constantly accusing me of cheating, thinking I was more interested in other men and women than him. He was possessive and also had problems with depression and suicidal thoughts.
I know, great pair. At the time it seemed like the only thing that was keeping me alive, and it probably was. As bad as our relationship was, there were still good times. When it was good it was SO GOOD until it went bad again. I needed that good, it was still the only good I felt.
I feel like there’s so much to read already and I’m not even half way done with EVERYTHING… I’m sure you’ve gathered that I have a lot of issues. Some of these are no longer concerns, other problems are still current.
I’ve come a long way from being who I was as a teenager, but the fact of the matter is… I still don’t want to live. I really just don’t.
I’m so tired all the time. Honestly I feel like all my years leading up to this so far have been enough. I still can’t seem to perfect the art of getting a job and doing something with my life.
I just can’t shake the feeling that I don’t belong here, that I’ve never belonged here. That no matter how hard I push and try that its all going to just go downhill again. I feel like every good time in my life is severely punished with ten times more bad times. This just isn’t worth it.
Its like if I dare to be happy for five minutes, the next half an hour is going to be pure misery. Sometimes I feel like I’m litterally not allowed to be happy and have fun, like if I dare to put a genuine grin on my face, it will be slapped away immediately along with a scold.
My memory’t shot, always has been since I was a kid. My mom might ask me to fetch a can of soda from the kitchen, and by the time I get to the kitchen I can’t remember why I was there. My gall bladder got messed up and had to be removed due to a cyst in my liver, which is now causing me stomach problems, most likely Crohn’s disease.
I’m just always in pain. If its not my stomach, its my joints. If I feel physically fine today then my depression’s raging. If I don’t feel sad then my stomach cramps are crippling me. I can’t eat anything without it upsetting my stomach, and even when I don’t eat or eat very very carefully (means extremely healthly foods in very small portions) I’m still in pain all the time, even as I write this my shoulder ahces and my stomach gets little cramps from time to time.
God I just can’t take living like this any more. As if all this isn’t bad enough, my parents are still famous for their lack of understanding. If I try to talk to my mom, she belittles everything I say which makes me feel guilty and stupid for feeling depressed and trying to talk to her about it. My stepdad’s still worthless, still hates me, and still favors my brother who just HAD to grow up to be perfect.
I mean I love my brother and I’m happy he’s going to college and is getting good grades and is going to have a good life… But why does EVERYONE have to be better than me? All this has done is give my stepdad another reason to glare at me and love my brother and cousins more. I’m the only one out of my family that lives in Oregon who can’t do shit right. My brother, my cousin Cari and Nicole all got good grades in high school, and are ALL going to REAL four year colleges out of state.
My grades were shit because I was depressed my whole teenage life. I feel like its just too late for me now. I graduated vocational school but guess what… One year of experience isn’t enough for shit.
No matter what I try to do I always fail. If I don’t fail, then what I’ve accomplished is meaningless.. EVERY TIME.
I give up!!!