Me too. I almost went out to hang myself last night, but then just went and got groceries instead since I was tired of having nothing in my fridge but booze – and had begun to use it up though I’m not typically much of a drinker.
I want to believe there is someone or something around the next corner but there just never is – at least not for me. I don’t have any hope that there will be anyone/anything either.
The only hope I have is that I am successful next time I try to kill myself. That’s all I ever look forward to anymore.
The elusive ‘hope around the next corner” is the one thing that well-meaning friends and family told me many years ago to keep living for. So I did and I tried, but now it’s fifteen years later and not one darn thing has changed, except that I’m sinking further and further in the abyss. The realization that this is all that life is ever going to be is supremely painful. If I didn’t have my self-imposed demise to look forward to, I would have completely lost my (in)sanity by now.
I get it. I wonder the same thing – how much longer do I hold onto hope that one day things will change and I will get better? How long is it fair to allow myself to suffer?
Did you ever consider that perhaps the world needs people like us, pioneers, to take that one way trip, descending ever further into the abyss, and document what we find?
Perhaps the root of the problem is that there is not enough understanding of suffering. Sure, lots of people, perhaps even most, spend a staggering amount of time in suffering… but i don’t think most truly understand it; at least not well enough to even begin to devise a useful hypothesis about sufficient corrections.
Hmmm… good points. I think that the problem isn’t so much that people don’t understand suffering rather they believe they understand it. And since many people believe they understand suffering, there is no devising useful hypotheses to find sufficient corrections to help people. I have many people in my life who believe they understand suffering so they are baffled as to why I can’t move on from it or “get over it.” I hear things like, “suck it up” or “pull yourself up by your bootstraps.” I don’t know…
I totally understand. Frustrating because I can’t even properly end my suffering. I guess there is some very tiny part of me that hopes something will change. But it never does. I guess I think about it too much….
I guess a lot of us would really rather not die, we just don’t see a viable alternative. For me pride enters the equation to some degree. I’m ashamed of my life and what I’ve become, and want to spare myself further humiliation.
However I’m in ‘clutching at straws’ mode right at this moment. I actually feel somewhat hopeful, as I’ve found myself some good voluntary work and a new counsellor. Maybe this latest ‘straw’ will turn into a plank that I can cling to and haul myself out of this morass. ‘Hope springs eternal in the human breast’ and all that.
True. Don’t want to die but don’t want to live my life either. Shitty spot. I feel like I’ve clung to that last ‘straw’ so many times. I am out of energy to cling anymore.
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Me too. I almost went out to hang myself last night, but then just went and got groceries instead since I was tired of having nothing in my fridge but booze – and had begun to use it up though I’m not typically much of a drinker.
I want to believe there is someone or something around the next corner but there just never is – at least not for me. I don’t have any hope that there will be anyone/anything either.
The only hope I have is that I am successful next time I try to kill myself. That’s all I ever look forward to anymore.
The elusive ‘hope around the next corner” is the one thing that well-meaning friends and family told me many years ago to keep living for. So I did and I tried, but now it’s fifteen years later and not one darn thing has changed, except that I’m sinking further and further in the abyss. The realization that this is all that life is ever going to be is supremely painful. If I didn’t have my self-imposed demise to look forward to, I would have completely lost my (in)sanity by now.
I get it. I wonder the same thing – how much longer do I hold onto hope that one day things will change and I will get better? How long is it fair to allow myself to suffer?
Did you ever consider that perhaps the world needs people like us, pioneers, to take that one way trip, descending ever further into the abyss, and document what we find?
Perhaps the root of the problem is that there is not enough understanding of suffering. Sure, lots of people, perhaps even most, spend a staggering amount of time in suffering… but i don’t think most truly understand it; at least not well enough to even begin to devise a useful hypothesis about sufficient corrections.
Hmmm… good points. I think that the problem isn’t so much that people don’t understand suffering rather they believe they understand it. And since many people believe they understand suffering, there is no devising useful hypotheses to find sufficient corrections to help people. I have many people in my life who believe they understand suffering so they are baffled as to why I can’t move on from it or “get over it.” I hear things like, “suck it up” or “pull yourself up by your bootstraps.” I don’t know…
I totally understand. Frustrating because I can’t even properly end my suffering. I guess there is some very tiny part of me that hopes something will change. But it never does. I guess I think about it too much….
I guess a lot of us would really rather not die, we just don’t see a viable alternative. For me pride enters the equation to some degree. I’m ashamed of my life and what I’ve become, and want to spare myself further humiliation.
However I’m in ‘clutching at straws’ mode right at this moment. I actually feel somewhat hopeful, as I’ve found myself some good voluntary work and a new counsellor. Maybe this latest ‘straw’ will turn into a plank that I can cling to and haul myself out of this morass. ‘Hope springs eternal in the human breast’ and all that.
True. Don’t want to die but don’t want to live my life either. Shitty spot. I feel like I’ve clung to that last ‘straw’ so many times. I am out of energy to cling anymore.