It makes no difference….

It is tough for me to explain and on the added front, it is tough for other people to understand as well. In the end, I am another person who wants to die but at the same time hangs on.

I definitely did not grow up “usual”. I grew up best described as isolated on a farm. I am the youngest. I have two older siblings, a sister (5 years older) and a brother (7 years older). We attended church and I attended Sunday school which was the sole social interaction that I had for my first 5 or so years of life. It was extremely rare for much more social contact than that. There was not any routine social interaction with other people–no relatives, aunts, uncles, or friends. At my age 5 I started kindergarten and was finally exposed to other children on a routine basis. I took to school and kindergarten pretty well though it was a little overwhelming at first. Any friends that I made at school had to stay at school; I was not able to bring any friends to the farm.

With the above said, that was my routine for the first 16 years of my life. I couldn’t understand fellow students lives–visiting with people, sleepovers, visits with aunts and uncles, etc. As time progressed I became inward at school, just trying to get by. Yes, I was picked on. For whatever reason I tried to keep a smile on face thinking that “it’ll get better”.

My father was (is) emotionally absent. He, for whatever reason, didn’t spend much, if any, time with his children. Such routine activities such as playing/teaching hockey, playing ball, helping and guiding his children. All absent. To add things, he generally didn’t speak to his children directly but rather send communiques to his children through our mother. Visa versa is true where, at least for me, I would communicate to my father through my mother.

My mother was (is) overly religious and because of this listening to music on the radio was forbidden and was seen as evil. Television wasn’t as limited per se as long as we watched educational programming and/or children’s programs. My mother kept a firm grip on her family and overtime became emotionally abusive toward my father. I am not sure when it started but my mother would do such things as purposely hide the television remote from my father, prevent him from eating certain things from the fridge (though her children did not have the same restriction), would not permit him to eat snack foods (though, similar too, her children did not have the same restriction), restrict the satellite channels on television that he could watch (children could watch whatever). My mother would also talk with me about her methodology–she would also complain and go on about how poor of a father he is. Such activities still occur to this day so I am told. My mother would also “do stuff” to exclude my father from family activities–grocery shopping for example.

With the isolation, I don’t think it needs to be said that my parents were recluse–also known as hermits.

At my age 16 I was socially withdrawn. I still went to school and graduated. I was the quiet one. I am not entirely sure what kept me going–I still ask that myself. I never could quite understand the social networking, how other kids would socialize with such ease–create new friends, navigate the social playing field, etc. I can reasonably say that I was “alright” when I was in an element that I was familiar–school and home. Anything out of these I was overwhelmed but tried to maintain calmness. I went to a few parties–I tried–but oftentimes was made fun of quite bad; I was the quiet one.

I did end up going to college and ended up obtaining a career with a bank which started to open my eyes to the things that I never had an opportunity to see and experience growing up. Perhaps call it an awakening? I spent much of my 20s in mental flux–trying my best to make sense of everything, trying to connect the dots. I still lacked a social life as this was painfully difficult. For those who grew up socialized, socialization isn’t necessarily difficult.

Looking at my life from an overview standpoint, I have toughed much of it out. I have had to do so many things myself. Figure things out myself. I should have asked for help but didn’t–there was a rule that we weren’t to talk about life on the farm so asking for help would have been detriment.

I have been passive-suicidal since my approximate age 16; I am 34 now. I have asked the question to myself over and over: To be or not to be? I have struggled through so much. I have tried so no one can say that I didn’t. I live alone. I am estranged from my family. I have mental issues which can be attributed to my youth: social anxiety/aversion. I am heavily medicated. I technically work but am presently on disability–things just got too much. There is more that I can add but I don’t see any point.

I have spoken to different professionals. My youth has been compared to being cult-like. I come from a very dysfunctional family, a disillusioned mother, an emotionally absent father, and social isolation that is close to (if not is) severe. But yet I have trudged on. I have. I have tried. I suffer now from my own mind. Suicide is a daily thought. I have explained it to mental health professionals the suicide thoughts–at the end of the day no matter how far along I come with my own development I can never get back that what is lost. People who grow up with a background similar to mine oftentimes spend the remainder of their lives struggling, trying to figure things out. For me I ask myself what the point to is (figuring things out and continuing to mentally struggle) if we just die in the end. We are born to die, what experiences we have during our lifetime is irrelevant. While people around me today perhaps find my existence relevant, looking into the future perhaps a 100 years to what degree was my existence relevant. I understand and realize that every action that we do has an inherent cause and effect and my existence may have somehow influenced someone else to do something resulting in a infinite cataclysm of cause and effects. I have struggled for so many years. I am tired–oh so very tired. I want to cease to exist but not die.