“You have so many friends now, you’ve started a good new life for yourself down here.”
Little did he know, my father, that most of these so called friends wouldn’t even think of me unless I was standing there right in front of them. Maybe that’s normal when starting over in a new place, but after more than 5 years I don’t feel I’ve accomplished much at all. I’m merely a shadow.
I recognize this feeling inside from my old life. The hopelessness. The sorrow of not being, enough.
I started a new education about a year ago, I was on the edge of taking my own life but felt I wasn’t entirely done yet and it would secure some income and help me seeing some new people. While at first it was helping me feel better and got me thinking maybe there was a future for me in this career, soon enough reality caught up.
When I say reality, I guess I actually mean the b*stard that is depression.
Part of me knows this is a sickness. Part of me knows it’s not as hopeless as I think. But yet every day I come to the conclusion that life just isn’t worth it and I should just end it all. I’m so lonely, and it seems like I won’t be able to even keep a normal job because I constantly feel like shit.
I made the decision. Yet again. That I was going to take my own life. The perfect opportunity presented itself, my mother was going on vacation and her apartment, full with a certain “drug” she is prescribed, would be empty. The only problem seemed to be a lock change, I had the wrong keys. Phone calls were made, some arguing over a different matter entirely, and it made me nervous about her cooperation with arranging someone holding a key for me. Time went by and I grew increasingly nervous, yet I felt this immense motivation to finally do this. It would soon be all over, and it would be calm and painless. The perfect way out.
Then it all went sideways. I was not going to have access to my mothers apartment for a bunch of reasons. She didn’t even know that by doing this she was stopping me from overdosing on her couch.
This sent me on a long path of mistakes. I told a concerned friend what I had been planning more in detail. Which made that relationship sort of strained. I tried cutting myself. I went on yet another escape-roadtrip. Made lots of those, seeing the sights while I still had time sort of thing. The only difference was this time in a borrowed car. I ran this car off the road on purpose. (My own car was/is supposed to be some kind of memorial for my family, as a car guy that was my idea anyway.) I do not recommend crashing a car on purpose. It will most likely fail to kill you and it hurts a lot when you do fail, if not leaving you disabled. I can’t stress enough what a dumb decision that was, taken in a moment of weakness.
After this attempt, things sort of changed for me for a very short moment. I told myself I was gonna get help. I told myself that this irresponsible behaviour has to stop. I felt like I had sort of seen the light.
Then I got hit by financial problems instead. Me driving around seeing the sights, planning to die in a near future, had emptied my account.
I can’t even afford getting help now. I’m out of options. I drove out into the woods yesterday, and there I sat and cried on and off for about 3hrs. I have literally no idea what to do now.
Taking my own life, would feel like a last resort at this moment, it would feel forced and not like a personal decision. I don’t feel ok with that, but if I can’t find any other options in a near future…
This sickness took my mind as hostage, and I can’t even remember what thinking straight feels like.
2 comments
I was there in that spot with a borrowed car. I could have drove it off and jumped off a cliff. I planned that for about 6 months. After all, I was supposed to have completed suicide 4 years prior on point. Exactly my 18th birthday was the day I had planned for years to end my life. I even thought 15 hour drive to the San Francisco bridge, let’s just say I would be BETTER NOW had I done so. I just needed to save gas money. But the weed kept me alive and I needed money for the weed. Then something happened and I was ready to go the next day. Oh the something, (I was arrested…. oh ya, I was arrested twice) And it wasn’t just a normal arrest it was an arrest I was set up for and warned with psychotic nightmares. Alls I had was .04g of weed the first arrest and drank 2.4 8% beers and drove. Arrested both times. I was there with a zero income wage. I was trying to borrow enough gas money to drive to a cliff and hop off. I knew I couldn’t survive at all without a drivers license. They were set to take my license in 4 days for one month. The nightmares wouldn’t end. I did nothing to engage in these nightmares or to cause them, I felt it was all coming from some psychotic being or some supernatural force but they would sink and their claws and drag me into hell. I would write down the nightmares but do my best to forget what I had seen. I have since erased what I have wrote but the memories remain. Most of the content is BDSM sexual torture, sometimes it is just creepy shit like sickly dogs or an old toy I didn’t give a shit on or never thought of sucking life out of my body and leaving me paralyzed like one of those lame-ass horror shows. I had it with the nightmares, I take the car before it is repossessed, I take the weed and I take a bottle of wine. I am going to drive three hours away and jump the cliff the next day. I am arrested for the third time that night. They now have my license for a year and I have a 5000$ fine. I basically lived in the car and didn’t think I could survive without. I wouldn’t call what I’m doing surviving though. I have taken to slamming my fists against my head or slamming my skull into concrete when the nightmares occur. I stopped doing that because when I go I want to go quiet peaceful I don’t want to cause any harm I never meant to but I couldn’t stop hurting myself because these last 6 years I had not planned to still be alive. I kept alive the first year by continuing to drink about a beer every 4 days and walking LOOONNG distances. I wanted to read. I stopped being able to read because the nightmares kept coming and finally I lost all desire to do anything I used to enjoy.
Right now I am in the process of fixing up the damage I accidentally caused when slamming my skull too hard against walls… it is a tough task and I feel even after patching, I can’t do a perfect job and it is still noticeable… a little bump in the once smooth wall… alls rest I have to do is clean the couch of my pets urine. I have cleaned all of everything the best I could. Everything that’s been around since a child. I have rid my collections and everything I used to waste time with. I still have some books I need to give away. Otherwise I am able to get my license back it has been almost 2 years but I am working a job trying to afford my own car… I am going to try to survive the best I can while living in this car. But I have a sense I will never be the same. I will never be the happy-go-lucky folk I used to love to be. At least them, I would have died happy.
I know though, at least the choice is mine. The car is 1000-1500$ by the way. I tried for 4 years unemployed to get disability to afford this car before the arrests. I can’t believe I picked up a job. 5,000 of my pay has gone to court now the last step is this car purchase.
I don’t know what they did to me in the hospital but I have a scar that feels like a lobotomy.
What I mean by all this is that if I can do it, then you can do it. The job is a WASTE of time but at least then you can call your home your own. It’s not that bad… but I could be reading, walking.
Otherwise, id kill to be able to drive out and see the sights right now. That is what kept me alive for so long. I guess I left this post as a reminder that you can leave that car for them and get a new car. I understand that they wouldn’t want you to leave in that car.