Dying Inside…

I am a 34 year old male.  I suffer from severe bipolar disorder, with psychosis, PTSD as the result of rape, sexual abuse, and several gunfights.  I’m also a drug addict and an alcoholic.  I absolutely and unequivocally hate my life, the hell through which I live on a daily basis.

There is very little respite from this agony.  Five or ten minutes, perhaps an hour at a time.  Alcohol and drugs, in general, no longer help.  I take medication, which has limited effect, even when sober for months at a time.  I believe in God, but ever since my father died, I’ve hated God.  Still hate him.  I still talk to him, but nonetheless hate him.

I cannot comprehend people who say that suicide is selfish.  I believe it’s selfish for THEM to ask me to stay on this planet and live in abject misery.  Any attempts of mine to connect with people, whether it be a platonic friendship, or romance, are feeble failures.  I can’t say I entirely blame the other parties involved, due to my chronically depressed nature, but I hate these people nonetheless.

I have become a shell of my former self, full of hatred, misery, darkness, and despair.  My rare moments of joy are fleeting and lost.  I understand the rules of this forum, so I must say this in a “roundabout” way, but I have several items at my disposal to end my life, should I so choose.  And I’m not entirely convinced that suicide is a choice, so much as a response.  I have had attempts in the past, and quite frankly, I’m pissed off that I didn’t succeed.  I curse myself as a coward for not being able to end my life, and as incompetent for having failed at these attempts.

However, I must add that I’m safe tonight.  I have no plan tonight, I’m about to go to sleep.  I used to sleep 18 hours a day to escape the reality of my intolerable situation, but lately, I can’t bring myself to do that.  It isn’t even much of an escape, as I am plagued by ungodly night terrors of being raped and shot at.  At least 3 nights a week, I awake drenched in sweat.  I routinely throw out pillows because of the sweat stains and the smell.  It makes sleep very uncomfortable, because my pillows are quite literally coated in sweat.

I see my therapist soon.  I may decide to share this with her, I dont know.  I’ve been through 8 or 9 inpatient psychiatric hospitalizations, and 2 rehabs.  Frankly, I’d rather just die than go through that again.

Not sure what to do, or where to go from here.  I only hope that tomorrow, when I wake up, I’ll enjoy an hour of peace before the shitshow starts in my head.

Regardless of whatever may happen to me, I wish you all the best of luck with your various struggles.  I believe I know some of them intimately.  It breaks my heart.

Very sincerely, a bipolar bleeding heart