so so this is the first time ever posting on a site (any site actually) but I’ve found that venting about thing regardless if people respond or not is beneficial and seeing a therapist once a week is clearly not cutting it anymore.
Okay let’s see now, I am 23 first generation American, middle child, genetic history of major clinical depression with multiple family members taking their own lives.
On the surface, I have a pleasant life. I haven’t had to worry about finances as much as most people have. Ran track in HS and was a state champion. Played collegiate rugby and excelled. However since I was 13 I have been depressed. Like anyone who has depression, it is constant, sure there might be ebbs and flows to your mood but depression is a lifelong illness even if it remains dormant for years it can always come back.
After multiple consecutive concussions, my depression severely worsened and I took a break from school. Surprisingly my parents understood more than I thought they would.
I don’t drink every day but when I drink, I heavily binge drink and more often than not I black out without memory of what happened. I also smoke weed. My therapist and I have concluded that I use these vices as crutches to get away from the pains and stresses of every day life and being an all around familial disappointment.
two days ago, we had a big fancy outing for my aunts birthday and I drank a lot. I didn’t go into the dinner and simply sat outside with my cousins crying like a baby. Again this annoyed my parents, and later on when we got home I continued to get yelled at. I grabbed a kitchen knife and made one very superficial cut across my wrist and everyone flipped out. My little brother proceeded to tell me how much he hates me and doesn’t want me in his life. Cops were called and I was sent to the hospital “for my own well being”.
the next day my parents told me that eiither I get admitted to a mental ward for one month or leave the house and make it on my own. I completely respect what they are saying. I’m 23 and honestly it’s pathetic, I’m more of a child now then I was in HS.
Ive always rationalized to myself that I can’t kill myself because it would hurt my family too much however lately that thought process has changed. I’ve realized that I’m a continual emotional drag on them. They both tell me that I’ve aged them 10 years over the past two years and that they’re exhausted and sick of it.
i never wanted to hurt them but I just don’t have the strength or know how to make it better. Since that night the cops come I haven’t moved from the couch in 40 hours(except for bathroo) have no appetite, drank a little water, and have been reading posts on sites like this and researching ways to end it all.
i honestly believe that in the long term it would be better if I didn’t exist. It might hurt them for a little bit but then it would be over. I wouldn’t cause them this continual pain except in their memories which is better than me causing new painful memories.
sorry for my rant. I suppose this was just to rationalize to myself what I already know – some people can handle the rigors of living and some people simply can not.