Sorry for my last post. Came off a a bit overdramatic. I tend to do that when I get stressed out.
To be honest, I don’t even have a way to kill myself right now. I was hoping we had some rope in the basement, bu5 a search turned up nothing. And now more than ever I won’t be able to sneak out and by some. Hell, I don’t even know if hardware stores are closed nowadays. The only reason I can think of for them to be open would be so people can buy flashlights or things to help with emergence repairs. I supposed I could order some on Amazon, but that would risk my parents getting to the package first. I’ve tried to kill myself before. Learning I ordered some sturdy rope would instantly tip them off that something is wrong.
Honestly, part of me feels bad about just dying like that. It’s not just the fact that I’d be leave broken home in my wake. It’s the fact that when I look at myself in the mirror, I just have to ask, “Do I deserve it?” Not do I deserve to die, because that would get a resounding no from most people. But do I deserve the pain to stop? Of course, I don’t have it nearly as bad as other people. I come from a loving family, I’ve always been relatively healthy, and I’ve never had anything truly traumatic happen to me. But in a way, that’s the problem.
See, I always come back to this thought process. Every single fucking time. “Why do I have these things?” Why are other people suffering when I’m not? There are probably billions of people who are ten times better than me, and yet I’ve been given a happy life and they haven’t! Why the fuck is that?! I just need to know what I did. I just need to know what I did to deserve this! What benevolent actions did I do in a past life or whatever that caused me to have all this! Because as of right now, believing all this was just the luck of the draw is what’s truly making me hate myself.
In a way, I reacted to these uncertainties by taking things into my own hands. To find some way to bring sadness into my life. To “make things fair” in a sense. If the world’s not gonna do it, it might as well be me, right? Cutting, burning, bruising: self harm is just one of the ways I get rid of this “survivors guilt”. One night I cut myself so far down I could see muscle. Light pink and white muscle. Instead of being nervous that I’d cut so deep, I was almost excited. Overjoyed. I paced around the kitchen waiting for the blood to start to seep out, humming the tune to Silent Night. In fucking March.
It’s not just physical pain either. I also neglect my physical needs and pretty much verbally abuse myself on a day to day basis. I’ve called myself things I would never to say to another human being. I wouldn’t speak to my dog like this! It hurts to be called these things, even if I’m the one doing it. But at the same time I just get so much joy and satisfaction in hurting myself. It’s cathartic. Almost like I’m hurting someone who deserves it. Like I’m getting revenge on someone who’s committed a horrible crime, but the only crime I’ve really committed was being alive! I don’t want to stop, but I know it’s killing me. I cry sometimes. Sometimes the things I say to myself really sting. I’ll bring up my past mistakes, bring out my faults, taunt myself over things I can’t control. I have a full on panic attack sometimes over how much stuff I drudge up from my past. But I know that there’s a part of me that’s just eating it up! Laughing at me as I’m fucking hyperventilating. It’s like I’m an abuser and a victim all rolled into one fucked-up package.
I want to stop, but then again, I don’t! It feels good and fucking horrible all at the same time. Part of me relishes in seeing me suffer and the other part is in agony. I’m in a loop. A goddamn, mindfuck mental loop! I don’t know how to get out of this. I don’t even know if I can or even want to! I’ve tried to explain it to my parents, but I don’t think they fully understand. I’ve always been shit at explaining my feelings. Blame it on the fucking Aspergers.
So, yeah. Just needed to get this off my chest. You know, without someone telling me I’m being irrational or overdramatic. Even though I probably am. I’m probably going to be post more often on here considering I’ll be hauled up in my house for the foreseeable future. Stay safe everyone.
4 comments
You may have been dealt a decent hand in terms of material circumstances, but being gifted a brain that partially enjoys torturing itself is bad luck.
I can relate to feeling conflicted about the different sides of yourself, and the suffering you cause yourself.
I hope you can find some balance to that conflict that allows you to live a more fulfilling life.
Self-harm is not killing. There is an element of enjoyment in it.
Killing is the unquestionable-final-solution (to the mind of suicidal). It is “finishing”. I am not saying that you may not kill yourself, it “can happen” while you go more in depth (of flesh, and of enjoyment spiral).
I m not gonna sell you yellow psychology garbage, so be aware that the guilt that you feel has no meaning in a sense that there is no real world equivalent for (impact of) it: You do not sympathize with poor, but you hate reach, typical for middle-class youngsters. Not that criticize you for your being, but to tell you what it looks from outside view.
I am not sure if you are interested to solve it, but if yes, it cannot happen without a step: taking responsibility of someone devastated. Then you realize what I am not going to type down here (since it will have a contradictory effect).
I used to cut myself too, for a short period. I was enjoying.
I planned to finish myself, but not decided when to exactly.
By the way, for the sake of completeness, you really do not need a rope, do an online search.
Happy quarantine, Happy Death
I’m sorry. You’re right. All this is very immature and small-minded of me.
What you said kinda hurts, but that’s mostly because it’s true. I’ve been given an easy shot at life, and as guilty as that makes me feel, I haven’t been doing much to remedy that. I could do more. Volunteer more. Donate my money to charity. They probably deserve it more than I do.
I’m sorry. I probably came across as a spoiled kid, right? It must be annoying to hear me drag on and on like that. Instead of drowning in self pity, I should be doing something for other people with the life I’ve been given. Is that what you’re getting at?
I’ll do that. I’ll stop sitting in my little ivory tower and actually do something for once in my life. I don’t know if this will make me stop hating myself, but that doesn’t really matter anymore.
You showed me just how much of a dumbass I was being, and I appreciate that. I don’t know why you’re doing this, but I hope you won’t do it. I can’t stop you of course. I have no right to even try, but I hope you won’t.
I helped my friend to euthanize himself (in an illegal setting). A dead friend (that you just killed), is an absolute nightmare. I cannot be sympathetic to anyone’s death, anymore.
That’s being said, I believe you deserve to go on. I will not disclose why, but it’s not sympathy.
Two points;
If I were you, I would not distance myself from the zero-privileged. I would not “buy” mental comfort by donation. I am not against it in general, but it is way far from what can help you (and what that can impact others). Meet them and touch them.
Poverty is horrible and in outsider’s eyes it “de-humanize” the people. It is wrong, but there is an insight here. You may grasp it.
For 10 days stop insulting yourself (including in front of mirror and in your written comments). 10 days.
Happy quarantine,