Ever since I was younger, I have always put on a mask. I only let people see what I want them to see. And what I let them see is me, happy, hardworking, selfless, caring, okay. But because of this, I always end up bottling up the bad thoughts and feelings inside of me.
I have a great life compared to many people. I know this. I have great parents who love and support me. I get good grades in school. I’m from an upper middle-class family. I go to a great university and know I can go to a great graduate school. I’m healthy. I’m selfless, respectful, smart, attractive, thoughtful, caring, I could go on.
And yet I’m still not satisfied.
Even though I have it way better than some people, there’s always this sort of feeling deep down inside me that never goes away. And because I bottle up my negative thoughts and feelings, this seems to amplify this feeling deep down inside of me.
I’m not happy. And I don’t think there’s anything that can make me happy.
I know that I have things that I enjoy. But still, there’s that feeling inside of me always present. It won’t let me go. And feelings of enjoyment are not the same as being happy.
During my years in high school my depression became more severe. I began cutting myself to relieve the pain inside of me, began acting out and rebelling against my parents, partaking in risky behavior, sleeping a lot more to avoid reality, isolating myself from everyone.
But my last year of high school, I was dating a guy (had been dating for about half a year by this time), and he was someone I actually loved. Not high school, puppy love. He helped me and made me realize that I didn’t want to continue on this path of destruction. So I told my parents how I was feeling, I began seeing a psychiatrist, and I was prescribed medication.
I had a minor set back when we broke up, because I really loved him but found out during the year and a half we were dating he had actually cheated on me multiple times and was leaving me to date one of the girls he cheated on me with. But then I went off to college, and that became a thing of the past.
I’ve been in college for two years now. I’m off the medication, I stopped seeing the psychiatrist (mainly because I go to college in a different city from where I saw her), I’ve made some really awesome friends who I feel are like family, and I’ve seen just how much I’ve changed and have opened up. But for some reason, no matter how good things are for me right now (much better actually, than when I was in high school), I still have that feeling deep down inside of me. And it has been growing inside of me again.
With all that being said, I have been seeing a guidance counselor at my university for the past four months, once every week.
But last weekend I had a mental break down. It was way more severe than I’ve ever felt before.
Before, I’ve always been depressed but have never ACTUALLY considered suicide. I mean, I’ve thought about dying and sometimes have thought about what I would do in order to kill myself; but, I’ve never actually believed that I would or would want to.
But last weekend was different. What led to that mental break down isn’t important. But when I had that mental break down, I actually realized that I’m not happy. And I’ve never really have been even though it seemed like I have been this past year. I’ve just been distracting myself from the feelings and thoughts that have been growing inside of me again.
I know that I have things that I enjoy. And I have fun because of certain people or things. But I’m not happy. I’m not satisfied. I don’t know why I feel this way. I don’t know what can make me happy. I have changed greatly, for the better, but there’s still that feeling deep down inside me.
And I asked myself, why should I continue to live if I’m not happy and if I’m never going to be happy? Is there really a point to life if I’m not happy? I’ve got so many good things going on in my life, what else do I need in order to be satisfied? What is the point of life? In the end we all die, s does it really matter if I die sooner than later?
And during this mental break down, I realized that I didn’t really care if I died. It wouldn’t really bother me if I killed myself. I realized that there was now the possibility in the future that I will kill myself.
I haven’t done it yet, obviously. And I may not do it for a while. I might never do it if I get the help I need, or if I somehow find happiness or satisfaction.
But that feeling is still there. And now I’ve been having this repeated thought replay inside my mind: my thought is what if I just take a few sleeping pills? Not enough for me to overdose on, but maybe enough to make me throw up and extremely tired (maybe six pills). And I don’t really understand this myself. But I think I want to try it to see if I have the guts. Because if I have the guts to do this, then it might implicate that, if I have another mental break down more severe than the last, I might have the guts to actually commit suicide someday.