Right now I’m lying here in bed, like every weekend, overthinking, like trapped inside my own mind. I wonder what may be wrong, I can’t find any answer. Since I was a little child, I knew there was something different in me, too shy, too nervous, too sensitive, too depressed.
I grew in a humble home, my parents never went to a school, dad was an alcoholic and agressive person, often came drunk and angry at the nights. Sober or drunk, whatever, he always seemed disappointed about me, and that was confusing to me, because I always did my best in everything. Mom was a victim of his abuse and her own ignorance. I always saw the world with “adult eyes”, with no innocence or clear answers, knowing the truth about crime, injustice, death,war, violence. That was too much in the little and confused mind of a boy, I was 10, in the classroom, and for some reason I can’t remember, I lost control and tried to kill myself. I WAS JUST A CHILD, WHAT THE FUCK WAS WRONG WITH ME???!!! Nevertheless I did not receive professional attention, as if anyone would have cared, as if it were not serious.
As I got older , the feeling of helplessness , loneliness and sadness were increasing until when I was 15 , Dad did something really vile that destroyed the little humanity that I had inside. I had inmediately the idea to kill myself, but the suffering of Mom and my older sister stopped me. Then I came into a “self-destructive” phase, suicidal thoughts, alcohol, bad companies, promiscuity, stuff like that, and I made a plan: When time passed and the impact of my death was less, I would finally kill myself by an overdose of any drug. When I became 30. Until then, just an emotionless life, surviving day by day.
Last year I left my country to start my PhD, I needed to be far from my family to prevent them ruin my plan, started drinking all nights, stopped eating. But the feelings of emptiness grew so much and took a physical form as panic attacks and deep depression, I couldn’t take it anymore and got confined to a psiquiatric hospital, a few months before the date of my death.
Many things happened before: I fell in love with someone who will never reciprocate because he’s a guy, Mom came to visit me for my birthday, so I (obviously) couldn’t kill myself, I started a treatment and got a diagnosis of dysthymia, social phobia and a couple of personality disorders or some kind of autism. I’m such a dumb in my research area, my university is trying to kick me off.
I can’t stop wondering why. What’s wrong. I’ve read many of the histories of people, abandoned, unloved people. I’ve felt love, so much love, but I can’t stop feeling unworthy, because something inside me is broken, incomplete, bad. Can’t stop hurting myself with my own thoughts.
And can’t look the people in the eye.