Why not jump?

Its another morning.

I awake. I sob. I’m awake. I’m still alive. I wish I wasn’t.

I suffer from dysthymia, a form of mild depression that is persistent. All I know is down, all I have ever known is down. I also suffer from Major Depression, episodes of extremely severe depression that last 1-12 months at a time. Yes, they put depression in my depression so I can be depressed while I’m depressed. This is called double depression. One of its features is being more hopeless than someone with one form or the other, another is that it is hard to treat.

I also have generalized anxiety. Tons of anxiety all the time but no panic attacks  I often worry myself to illness, to the point where my digestive system shuts down. I can be hungry and weak even after eating a meal, will eat and eat and eat then my stomach will be so full it hurts, but I’m still hungry and weak.

I have insomnia and will go for days without sleep.

I was brought up in a slightly impoverished household. Lower middle class. Too well off for things like food stamps or financial aide for college, too poor for anything. I was made to do after school activities because my family thought it would get me a free ride to college. They did not buy me proper shoes and as a result I suffered a sports injury that destroyed my knees, with numerous misdiagnosis from doctors causing further damage because the obvious affliction was disregarded by age. Being 12 with the knees of a 60 year old isn’t easy. (And all the scholarships were based on ethnicity, so I destroyed my knees for nothing.) I have osteoarthritis and am in constant pain.

After my most recent job loss my mother said, “If you are so depressed then move back home so we can take care of you.” After a year and a half of trying I had to. Losing my freedom, hope, independence, and significant other.

I have lost all of my belongings. I had to get food stamps because my family has done such a good job taking care of me. I struggle to get out of bed to do things like go to the bathroom. My teeth are rotting out from self-neglect.

And my mother is a frigid ***** who only cares about two things: Jobs and college. Like I would be able to hold down a job or go to college full time with overwhelming debilitating depression.

I had a 24+ hour drive to this hellhole and my car got wrecked in the process. Still, the badgering started immediately. Like, in less than 24 hours. She does not believe depression is a mental illness. She does not believe me about my knees. She’s badgering me to get standing jobs or jobs like a 911 dispatcher. She does no stop, ever.

She took me to the psychiatric ward to try and force me to go on her meds (lol prozac) instead of the meds my treating physician has given (I don’t respond to ssri, I take snri+ndri+benzo), because mommy knows more than the nine people (not joking, nine) I have seen in the last year. I stopped taking all my meds so I can make her happy. Nothing makes her happy.

In the past I have had psychiatric assessments, blood tests, eegs, mris, cognitive assessments, you name it.

My family has threatened to euthanize my pets if I go to the hospital. They have threatened to make me homeless for not getting a job (I can’t, I can barely get out of bed, the little kitties sleeping beside me are the only things that even remotely lighten my mood).

I’m a year and a half into the ssdi process but the states refuse to move my case, advocates won’t even help me because the case isn’t in state. I have no way to escape here without the ssdi initial lump sum. I can’t tell my mother because she wouldn’t support me.

I live as a prisoner, avoiding my mother, the moment I am not in my prison room I get badgered. I often don’t eat or bathe or anything on weekends because she is home.

She is hell bent on turning me into her clone. She made me cut and dye my hair because that’s what she does. She tells me I’m fat and told me if I didn’t go on her freak vegan diet that I would starve. (And I did only eat once or twice a week until I got foodstamps.) She wants me on her meds, to go to the shitty school that she went to (its so bad it needs to lose its accreditation), she wants me to do her lame yuppy hobbies (scrapbooking), like things she likes (crappy novel), and smoke pot. I try to tell her I have knee pain and she starts complaining about the fibromyalgia she thinks she has.

Every time she opens her gaping maw of insensitivity and willful ignorance she manages to send me into a suicidal state.

I’m not a teenager, by the way, I’m 30 and lived on my own for ten years.

I have no hope of ever getting better.
I have no hope of my mother ever becoming a caring and understanding human being.
I have no hope of escaping this hell.

Not far from here is on of the top suicide destinations in the world: The Golden Gate Bridge.

Its a great place to die.
Nice view. A drop that kills almost everyone who jumps reliably (a few have managed to survive when changing their minds). There isn’t blood splatter to clean up. The coastguard might retrieve the body but they get somewhere between 40-50 known jumps a year (who knows how many more at night). While dramatic, it would be kinder than hanging myself here and my brother’s child having to see my body be removed.

I’m sure my mother will celebrate when I’m gone. She never loved me in the first place and should have just aborted me.

Why shouldn’t I just jump already?