This is my first time posting anything here, so I feel like I should introduce myself a bit. My name is Rae. I’m transgender, my preferred pronouns are his/him. I’m asexual and aromantic. I write sometimes, draw even less. I read a lot, though. I was going to go to college for psychology and philosophy, but I probably won’t make it that far. My favorite colors are white, gold, red, and black, in that order. I really love flowers and reptiles and am constantly torn between the two. Alright, this is just turning into me babbling about myself, but whatever.
Anyway, I found this site and kind of wanted to give it a shot while I was still around, y’know?
So, I guess I’ll explain my suicide story here, since that’s what it says on the home page.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been depressed, and I’m still not sure if I am. I feel like my psychoanalysis wasn’t in-depth enough to diagnose me with that. Anyway, I think I can pinpoint feeling depressed to back in middle school. I never really had a lot of friends. Ever. It’s not that I was shy or anything, I just didn’t have an interest. I jumped from friend group to friend group because I get bored of people like I get bored of food. You can only eat PBJ so many days in a row until you want something else, right? That’s how I’ve always been around people. And in a way, I kind wish I weren’t. It’s kind of lonely. I’m not able to tolerate the same people so many days in a row, and it sucks because I can’t have lasting relationships that way. I’ve always been so isolated, and I do this to myself. Ugh, whatever, that’s a different story for a different day.
Okay, so you get the idea that I have a lot of acquaintances, but not a lot of friends. Alright, so in March of 2014 I attempted suicide. Overdose of whatever the fuck was in the medicine cabinet. I just wound up throwing up. A lot. So I asked my mom to call me out of school on Friday and then the following Monday and Tuesday. I didn’t tell her why, and she didn’t ask. Family matters are a whole other issue, but the bottom line is that nobody in my family really gets along with each other.
So, I go back to school and nobody really asks me what’s up. Of course. I don’t have any friends. And I didn’t tell them.
I didn’t tell anyone that I had attempted suicide.
I simply brush the suicide attempt under the rug and pretend it never happened. But it got a lot worse after that. My thoughts of suicide got a lot worse and more frequent. I came out as transgender to my parents in July and now my dad hates me more than he did before. My mom calls me he only in front of me, but I hear her when she thinks I’m not listening and she doesn’t even try. She’s only doing it in front of me so I won’t say anything bad about her. My sisters are fine with it, though.
In November of 2014 I had a breakdown and my older sister forced me to go to the hospital. I was in crisis and was transferred to somewhere else, where I stayed for 5 days. This is where I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. But I think they just assumed that’s what I had because I was admitted for suicidal ideations. But whatever. So eventually I get out of there and I start therapy and medication. We found out that the medication only makes things worse, but helps me sleep (I have horrible insomnia). Therapy sucked, but that’s my fault. Again, with the people thing. I couldn’t connect, and then I got bored of her. So I stopped going to therapy. And I stopped taking the meds.
I’ve been going untreated for I think 3 months now, and I’m getting kind of bad again. I’m not really sure how much longer I’m going to be around to tell my story, but have this much, I guess. There’s so much more, but I don’t have the energy or motivation to write it all out. That’s almost sad, I always wanted to be a writer. I still do. Look how well that went. I’m fucking pathetic.
Thanks for reading this, I guess. It’s really text-heavy, but whatever. It felt kind of nice to get it out.
I’m also the-lord-of-the-lamps on tumblr, you can find me there if you want to chat, but you probably don’t.