This isn’t the first or last time I’ve been here. Just waiting 20 minutes to fully decide. The total time is double the last.
Would this be considered a note? Don’t count this as one.
I don’t have anything to say to anyone.
26 Mother. Ex Wife. College Drop Out. Christian. Survivor of many things but probably not mental illness.
I’ve had left side flank pain on and off for four years now.
I finally got to see a GI specialist.
The specialist thinks my mental illness has caused my physical illness and pain for the past four years. That I have IBS and there’s nothing she can really do for me, and that psychiatric medication is probably my solution.
Unfortunately medication hasn’t been safe for me and no other treatments have helped me either.
I have already given mental illness the ability to make friends.
I have already given my mental illness educational opportunities.
I have given it my ability to support myself financially.
I have given it all my relationships with friends, family, and with significant others.
I have lost part of my journey in motherhood to my mental illness.
I have signed over my fertility to my mental illness.
I have given the very person I am – the mother, sister, daughter, and lover I wanted to be to my mental illness.
I have nearly given my life to my mental illness.
Yet here it is still devouring more of me.
I have nothing left to give.
I’m out of options.
At this point I need to assess my quality of life again.
I’ve been warned my whole life that if I didn’t get my mental health under control there would be physical consequences.
At age 26 that has finally been confirmed. It’s already been going on for 4 years.
My life will continue to deteriorate as everyone around me will inevitably grow more tired of me than I am of myself. My physical and mental health will also worsen.
It’s likely that I will lose custody and possibly visitation with both of my children, I will become homeless, and finally I will lose my humanity and I will be like an animal trapped in a cage.
There’s obviously not a timeline on that but I’m rotting away relatively quickly.
I have two options
Wait around and continue to rot living the best miserable life I can
Take control and end it before things get worse.
Please don’t tell me how I “may never know things may get better” I’ve been told by multiple professionals that I will only get worse as time goes on. Wellness isn’t an option for me.
I just need to determine as clear headed and thoughtful as possible what is enough.
People insist that suicide is a rash decision or one without thinking, but in my case that isn’t true. This is something that I have analyzed, prepared for, and planned right down to minor funeral details.
I’ve struggled for years but I still have a habit of dismissing myself insisting “It’s not that bad”.
I compare myself now to the way I was when I was likely in psychosis a few years ago.
I’ve only cried 3 times today….I could have cried for hours non stop.
I’m only scoring 48/76 on depression assessments… I’ve scored 56/86 before.
I’m over eating but I could be living on nothing it cookie dough again.
I’m getting 3-5 hours of sleep a night max but I could be running on 1 or less like I have in the past.
I know I’m not “healthy” and that I never will be but ignoring or dismissing my current feelings won’t help me.
This month marks a lot of things for me. I’ve made it past the anniversary of a few things but Halloween will mark 1 year since I was raped.
Halloween was the last holiday not tainted for me and well that’s not true anymore.
I’m in so much pain. It just hurts. I want to just dissociate from everything but I can never keep it up. Reality always comes crashing through.
I have extremely easy access to what I would need should I finally decide to die by suicide. It would take minimal planning. That gives me some comfort.
I don’t want to be ‘sick’ anymore or at least well enough I can resemble the things I want to be. Who I am is not my desire.
I’d like to work but I’m beyond just pushing myself and I’ve been denied disability.
I want to be the super mom I believed in but I’m not well enough.
I want to be able to stay with my significant other and not cry or have flashbacks about things he had nothing to do with.
I want to be all love and light.
I want to be so many things but my illness stands in my way.
Most of the time I can’t even want these things, I just want to be dead. I want the pain to stop.
I’ve been suffering for over 2/3 my life and I want it to cease.
I’ve been told I won’t get better and I’ve swallowed that hard truth. I will die with this pain and illness.
That’s not what I want but it’s inevitable. I’ve done everything I can think of but I’m still this way, this sore.
Please, powers that be, hear my plea. Do not let me wake up tomorrow.
*Content warning* Several forms of abuse and assault.
My story is a long twisted road as it starts from before my existence really.
I am a product of statutory rape. My 13 year old mother who had been abandoned by her alcoholic father clung to love wherever she thought she felt a single glimmer of it.
My dad was 18. When he was told to “get a job, get a car, and be responsible” he decided to take off. To this day he is still afraid of being charged for what he did. We met when I was 15, he was an alcoholic for 10 of the 11 years I’ve known him now. I’ve forgiven him the best I can but we’ll never be close.
When I was 4 my mother fell in love at 18 and got married. He was a preacher’s son and came from “a good Christian family”, meaning they hid their secrets well. As advocates for ‘spare the rod spoil the child’ everyone turned a blind eye to what my mother’s now ex husband did to me. I wish my childhood would let me go but on long nights my memories echo mercilessly throughout my mind.
For 6 years I was forced to stay where they adults fought, wounded, and abused one another repeatedly. By the time I was 9 I became a protector. I’d take my baby brother upstairs and turn the music up so he couldn’t hear the screams and crashes. I also intervened and kept my mother from being strangled to death.
Finally my mother gathered the strength to leave. She dated again. He seemed nice but something just wasn’t right with him. At least he left peaceably.
The nightmare began all over for me again though. My mother became an addict. Lost in her addiction she brought her ex husband back into our lives. They told me “things will be different out there” as they moved us to a different state. Things were not different. (2005)
After I ended up with a bruised knee cps became involved after I told my friends how it got there. Out of fear my mother packed us and moved us back home within 3 days.
Home is where I was bullied for years because I had a severe reaction to my nuclear environment. I was known as the “psycho” who flipped desks, screamed, and threw things. I don’t blame anyone for mistreating me because of my toxic behavior. The last straw ended with me chasing 3 girls down with a kitchen knife. I never had any intentions of hurting them, I just wanted to scare them and make the bullying stop. It wasn’t the right way to handle things but it got the job done. Telling the teachers, counselors, and family didn’t help. I did what I could in a desperate hour.
After that incident I decided at age 13 I needed admitted to the local hospital for a psychiatric hold. It was my third visit. I had forcibly been admitted twice before when I was 8 and 11. I would soon be accidentally overdosing on medication for the second time. (I’ll explain later).
Once I got out, my relationship with my mother detoriated progressively for several years. We’d get into literal fist fights. I bounced from her house to my grandma’s. I met my dad somewhere between that time. I spent so many nights crying alone in my room feeling unloved.
At 17 I decided to move in with my dad. Too many wounds and too much tequila drove me away. I went back to bouncing between my mom and grandma.
When I was 18 my mom got another abusive boyfriend. As a result I had to give up on her. She just lied about her bruises for too long and I could not sit back and watch her let someone destroy her like that.
My depression worsened as I moved back in with my dad to attend college just to end up as a drop out. I wanted to die. I thought about it often.
In 2013 I stupidly married a man I only dated for 2 months. He cheated on me constantly. Even while I was pregnant. I spitually killed myself on the bedroom floor while 5 months pregnant so I could carry that baby to term. I spent 10 months crying, sleeping, and growing a life inside of my dead soul.
I fell in love with my (ex) husband’s best friend. He had also been supportive of me and picked up my pieces several times. I had an affair with him after my daughter was born.
Years later I say “I loved him, I really did. I even give him credit for saving my life but he saved me like a substance saves an addict from dying by withdrawals.”
I had severe postpartum depression and he abused me. Out of desperation for love I went back to him even after he raped me.
In October 2014 I tried to take my own life. I gave everyone a chance to say their last words.
Not one person told me that they loved me or asked me to stay. I was devasted. Not even God reached me that night. It was why I only took a pill instead of the bottle though. I was completely alone and that is where I picked myself up and kept going.
I was forcibly hospitalized that more and 2 more times after that within 8 months. Over 10 years in several forms of therapy, EMDR, a few ECT sessions, and finding out that due to genetic reasons I cannot safely take medications(serotonin syndrome), I could not be reached. I was in survive or die mode. This was used against me when cps removed my first born as she had failure to thrive.
Her father abandoned her in foster care while I spent 10 long months in visits, doctor’s appointments, therapy sessions, and court dates. I was never formally charged with abuse or neglect. She was returned home and her failure to thrive was never to come with a medical explanation.
While battling the state a man came into my life (2015). We had a son together. All seemed well until about 18 months (2016) into the relationship. Soon there were holes in the door and holes in the wall. I powered through the trauma when he sexually assaulted me and I kept my children calm when he pulled the gun begging me to shoot him. (2017)
The police took his weapons but his father gave them back. I spent months in terror telling my loved ones “my opportunity will come”. It did but not before I was pushed through a window.
While cleaning up the glass I had a panic attack as I knew my new life was crashing in just like I did in that window. My life was like my mother’s but my children would not grow up like I did.
I told my daughter we couldn’t live there anymore. Then I sent her to California with her father who was never consistent because I was going to give her the out I never had. Her father filed for sole custody and has told me I don’t get to see her this year. I lost my baby girl because I chose to protect her. He doesn’t know why I did what I did. He just decided ‘winning’ was the best choice. Her best interests were never reviewed as I couldn’t afford to respond to the divorce.
I’ve been out of the abusive relationship for about 6 weeks now. I have my son during the week and I’m seeking employment while my relatives graciously let me stay with them.
I thought I was happier and doing well but no, that’s not the case.
First thought of the day was this song in my head
?Sell your love to the modern day
Hold your Bible
Hold your hand
C’mon raise your Bible?
Way to kick it off. Yesterday is was “Teen Idle” by Marina and the Diamonds.
?Yeah, I wish I’d been, I wish I’d been, a teen, teen idle
Wish I’d been a prom queen, fighting for the title
Instead of being sixteen and burning up a bible
Feeling super, super, super suicidal
The wasted years, the wasted youth
The pretty lies, the ugly truth
And the day has come where I have died
Only to find, I’ve come alive?
Ironically, I hadn’t listen to either of these songs in like a year.
So I only stopped writing on here because I thought I was blocked.
Wrong user name.
It’s been about 2 years since I posted last.
I don’t have any hope for yall. I still wanna die.
Lately, “I just wanna die” just keeps repeating in my head. I know that’s usually just the beginning. That’s the calm before the storm.
I had a 3 tiered method set up not even a year ago. I’m still here and trying to be positive but it’s not working.
I left the relationship I was in but not before I was raped, had a gun pulled on me, and pushed through a window.
My ex husband ripped custody of my first born from me.
I’m in a new relationship now and he knows about how I feel and actually knows about my posts on here. I don’t want him to have to deal with my pain… He might even read this one. Idk.
The 4th anniversary of my suicide attempt is coming up. I’m not happy to be here.
No longer pregnant so I have my method picked out. It’s a double method because suicide has a 75% failure rate or so. Basically the only way to be successful is overkill. Both have a high failure rate but in combination and how I’m going to carry them out I’m pretty confident in the ability to complete.
I just got to wait until there’s not a doubt in my mind. Doubt will save ya.
1. Who here DOESN’T use any kind of substance to get by?
By substance I mean
Drugs – like hard drugs like meth or heroin
Natural ‘drugs’ – pot or the oil derived from pot, peyote, or shrooms
Synthetic drugs such as pcp, ecstacy (molly), K2, bath salts
Or natural supplements like st John’s wart or valerian root
Pharmaceuticals – medications prescribed by your doctor or meds you purchased off the street
Like you literally take/consume/smoke/shoot NOTHING to deal with your mental health struggles?
2. If you don’t take any substances of any kind do you use HEALTHY coping strategies?
For example you don’t self harm at all – cutting, burning, picking, purging, starving yourself etc.
Instead you draw, write, sing, dance, paint, exercise etc
I’m just curious because I seem to be a freak of nature in the mental health world. I do not use any substances whatsoever (I’ve taken meds in the past & have had terrible results doctors don’t want to give them) and I’ve self harmed once but other than that I’m straight edge taking all the pain as it comes.
I know this might make it seem like I genuinely have mental illness but I’ve been in some kind of care since I was a child, at least 6 in patient stays, one solid attempt, and I know I’ve has enough rough days/nights to actually have what I’m diagnosed with.
I just want to know how many others just take the pain full force.
I am stressing about trying to get employment. I’ve been applying for jobs on and off for 5 years now and gotten literally 3 interviews.
The main reason why I have no idea why I’m stressing is because I have no plan to try and fight through postpartum depression if I have to go through it again.
Basically once I’m not prego I’ll kill myself if it gets bad again. That’s where I’m at.
I don’t have to worry about the Fate of my kids either because well I’ll be dead. Nothing will matter. Not the good or bad.
That’s how death works.
So the state refuses to fix my insurance. In 4 days I won’t have any. Cancelled insurance at 32 1/2 weeks pregnant.
I won’t be paying medical bills back because I don’t have an income of any kind. I’ll just have to deal with collection calls and letters until they give up getting money from me and put it as a charged off account on my already very poorly rated credit.
This also means I won’t be able to get any kind of postpartum care. Good news is that I’ve already accepted I’ll be a depressed woman with no safety net.
At least I know even at my worst my kids will be safe from me. I’ll just quietly go alone.
After reviewing what I still don’t have for my child, my boyfriend treating me just like my soon to be ex husband (he finally filed for divorce woo), and knowing for sure I’ll have no insurance I’m clinging to one thought for my sanity tonight.
I can kill myself after my child is born.
I can finally leave this life.
After 16 years of being suicidal I can finally take care of myself.
Of course there’s some other nasty twisted thoughts but none of which are as wonderful as I can finally die before October of this year.
So after 3 phone calls to the state about my insurance i found the letter they said I had received. Low and behold it’s the same fucking number. They can help me they’re just refusing.
So my insurance will be canceled next month. I’ll be 8 months pregnant. My 2 year old also won’t receive any coverage.
Why is this good news?
I have 0 income but foodstamps, no property of any kind, and 0 in a bank account. All the hospitals can do is trash my already trashed credit. I’ll receive prenatal care and birth them in exchange for credit points.
It also means I won’t be able to continue mental health treatment. Which is fine I have no plans to fight my way through postpartum depression if I have it.
My newest stipulation is no attempts only success. My first solid attempt would’ve been successful had I gone through with it according to my research. Knowing I can finally commit suicide brings comfort.
Struggling these past few days and it’s hurting those around me.
Especially my child. I made them cry twice today. I’m so messed up right now I told my 2 year old to shut up.
Why? They were hungry while I was trying to angrily call the state about my insurance that’s going to be cancelled next month.
No insurance when I’m 8 months pregnant. Awesome. Worse case scenario I’ll stop all prenatal and deliver at home completely unassisted medically. I can’t afford the bill. It’s whatever. I’m not even worried about birth.
The thing I should be worried about is postpartum depression. I’m currently in therapy and seeing a psychiatrist but I’m not totally honest with them because I already lost said 2 year old due to my mental illness. Obviously today I proved I should’ve.
I’m such a failure as a mom. Even if I brought my kid back I’m still a piece and I’m bringing another kid into this world. Idk what I was thinking. It’s a strong possibility I’ll celebrate my last birthday this year. I can’t keep hurting everyone because I’m in pain.
I doubt anyone follows what I post on here, I’m new-ish and I don’t interact much.
Anyways I’ve mentioned before I’m pregnant.
Which means according to my own rules suicide it off limits. I have a rule “do no physical harm to another” I’m totally pro-choice and viability is a thing but I still have respect for *potential* life.
That doesn’t stop me from desiring to commit suicide or frequently thinking of death. It’s highly likely that I will not chose to make it through postpartum depression again. I’ve fought enough in this life to only face more misery. We’ll see I guess
I’d be grateful if I could just die of a stroke during this pregnancy. It’s not a common occurrence but common enough it’s heard of.
Only one thing though, little fetus is now developed enough to have 2 viability milestones. Still only 39% survival chance if born this week. Said fetus would still be ‘alive’ even if I died. Only momentarily.
Suddenly their environment would get quieter, they might even feel some kind of impact if I were standing during such an event. Then oxygen would deplete because my blood would no longer pump through the emblical cord. My heart would be stopped but theirs wouldn’t. They’d be left with the solitary beating heart and thrashing body as they tried to take in air with their underdeveloped lungs to only drown in amniotic fluid.
Even if someone could call rescue there would be no way to save the both of us. It would he me (if the stroke wasn’t an instantaneous death) or. The fetus by cutting them out of me of possible. Even then we’d probably both be dead, fetus severely damaged to the point where quality of life isn’t worth the existence.
Mostly an onlooker would just have to watch my stomach move in erratic and large movements until the fetus dies.
Have you died but you are physically alive?
For example when I’m asked my age I reflexively want to say “21” except I’ll be 24 here soon. I also no longer have any desires, aspirations, goals, or dreams.
Ultimately I feel like the Corpse Bride.
“And I know her heart is beating
And I know that I am dead
Yet the pain here that I feel
Try and tell me it’s not real
For it seems that I still have a tear to shed” – Tears to Shed lyrics.
So is anyone else dead alive?
So I’ve calmly explained to my family that my child needs to eat all day.
And then they wonder why I’m suddenly screaming full bore about how they need to eat.
It’s day 3 of them not having an appetite. It’s a fact toddlers do this but mine absolutely CANNOT do this.
They have failure to thrive and we’re in the closing stages of a child services investigation. I’ve successfully brought them home from foster care but our battle isn’t over. The state is going to continue harassing us, even after the case is closed.
I can’t afford my child losing any kind of weight. They have to eat and if it’s nothing but junk food so be it. I’ll fix their eating habits later. Our family dynamic depends largely on their weight.
I’m currently expecting another child because I’m going in the right direction but I could lose this child too if things suddenly go bad again.
I lost my child for 2 reasons. They have failure to thrive and I have mental illness.
After a decade of treatment I’ve learned to accept it and at this point doctors have literally told me I’ll never get better I can only manage symptoms.
So come postpartum I will lie about how I’m doing and pray to God my children grow at a normal rate. They need to stay with their parents. Foster care outcomes are terrible.
There’s a high possibility that I won’t make it through the depression aspects of postpartum if it’s bad again. I’m ok with that, especially if it means my kids can stay with their biological families.
I’m sure this raises the question “why have kids then?” as many of the readers here probably already bad days, months, and years come and go. Not trying at all to have the life I always wanted would most likely be more damaging then trying and struggling or completely failing.
My family made sure to remind me how my mental illness is a problem. In their eyes my child’s weight had no role it’s all my fault because I can’t get “better”.
I don’t know anymore. Maybe they are right. Maybe my problems are all because I’m “sick”. Maybe things will never get better for anybody near me until I’m gone. Maybe they’ve been right all along when they say my child would be better off in foster care.
I’m having Braxton Hicks or real contractions right now from being so upset. I can’t tell. I didn’t have normal labor with the first. Clearly I’m so messed up I hurt my kids before they’re born.
I can’t even handle me.
I need to have this baby.
Leave, run, or whatever.
I’m only creating more problems with my existence.
If I can’t deal with my mental illness how on earth can I ask anybody else to?
My significant others don’t deserve this, my family doesn’t deserve this, my friends don’t deserve this, and my kids ESPECIALLY don’t deserve this.
I need to end it before I fuck up more people. I’ve already hurt family, my ex spouse, and one child enough.
Enough is enough. I need to get out before more damage happens.
I have schizoid personality disorder and basically I’ll never get “better” from that.
After loads of research I’ve discovered that the life I’ve wanted has basically been the root cause of my depression.
I know there’s exceptions but
Schizoid people don’t typically get married let alone have dating relationships
Schizoid people don’t have children
Schizoid people can’t or don’t work in most professions
Basically I’ll never have a healthy or happy relationship with anybody and that’s why my marriage failed and my current relationship is likely to fail as well.
I may have brought my daughter home from foster care but I’ll never be the loving mother she needs. I’ll probably destroy her more than anything. Worse yet I’m currently pregnant with #2
300+ job applications and 5 years of working and 2 total interviews. I’m going to have to be on disability.
Essentially I’m a worthless sack of shit according to any standard. Emotionally, family wise, and professionally.
If I were smart I’d kill myself immediately upon giving birth (physically harming another is against my suicide rules) I doubt I will though. Right now I sincerely hope to die during labor, that will ease some of the pain for those left behind.
Spent most of my day crying today.
I’m pregnant so I’m sure I’m doing terrible things to my unborn son by merely having depression.
I’m currently in therapy and under the care of a psychiatrist. I lie to them because if I don’t I’m 100% positive Child protective services will take my other child back out of my custody and the other once they’re born.
Just an FYI the government can take your children just because you have mental illness. My advice is to lie. You might not get the help you need but let me tell you it’s better than losing a child.
I keep telling myself that once I’m not pregnant i can take my life. I don’t have to suffer from depression anymore.
Most might think it’s shitty to leave my kids like that but I think it’s better for them in the long run. At least people understand “my mom is dead” they don’t understand “my mom couldn’t be here tonight because she’s too depressed to get out of bed” or “I don’t think you can come over my mom hasn’t slept right lately”
I’d rather my kids just tell their friends their mom died, not make excuses for my illness. The don’t deserve being outcast because I’m fucked up.
I keep mentioning not making it through postpartum but no one seems to be taking me seriously except my boyfriend. He can’t save me and I’ve made that clear.
I feel like I’m just rambling now.
Basically I feel extremely guilty for everything today.
I want to commit suicide tonight.
I can’t commit suicide tonight because it’s against one of two main rules “do no physical harm to another”
(I’m pro choice but I have respect for the potential life growing in my body)
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