Does anyone hate the term “man up” as much as I do? I mean no one can really measure how much physical or emotional pain another human being is in and so all they say as advice and support when you’re in pain is “man up” like the pain isn’t real, like we’re not trying to feel better. Why can’t people just say nothing instead of saying potentially harmful things like “man up”. Don’t you think I’d pull myself out of this darkness and despair that I’m feeling if I could? All I’m asking for is a little help and the advice that gets thrown back in my face is “man up”. It just pisses me off. I don’t want people to pity me, I just want them to be there, to show that they care. Is that too much to ask?
Just a stupid kid
I recognise that I’m in a much better place than I was when I was first diagnosed with depression, but even four years on and I’m still incessantly fucking up and that’s the only thing that people actually see. I just wish that I would start learning from my mistakes and that people would stop judging me based on my past. I’m still holding myself back and its irritating. No doctor can save me from this, from myself. It will always be something that I carry with me, I just hope that it won’t weigh on me so much for the rest of my life.
I wish that I didn’t have hands and arms, so I wouldn’t pretend that they were yours when I hold myself for comfort.
I have no need for hands or arms , because I will never be able to hold you in mine.
I wish that I didn’t have feet or legs, so that I wouldn’t long to walk beside you for all of my days.
A path where that is possible doesn’t exist. Instead I shall walk alone forever and grow tired and weary with no use for these limbs of mine without you.
I wish that I didn’t have a spine, so that I wouldn’t want to lay beside you.
There is no place where weÂ will ever lie together.
I wish that I didn’t have lungs so that I wouldn’t want to always breath the same air as you.
Instead I breath in your scent as it floats by on the wind when you walk away from me.
I wish that I didn’t have breasts, so that I wouldn’t be the same sex as you.
This might hurt less if our similarities weren’t what makes me different.
I wish that I didn’t have lips so that I wouldn’t want to kiss you and tell you that I love you.
Instead my lips will stay cracked and dry forever. I can speak to no other.
I wish that I didn’t have eyes, so that your beautiful face couldn’t ignite such feelings in me and reflect the hope that you see for me.
You’ll never see deep enough in to my eyes though, so blind me from everything and spare me from pain.
I wish that I felt like this for someone else and wanted all of this with them instead of you, but I don’t.
I wish that I didn’t have such destructive feelings as it is this yearning for you so that disgusts me and makes meÂ hate myself. It is this that makes me wish that I didn’t exist in bothÂ my mindÂ and body, as without you I desire nothing and am rendered useless.
I recently cut myself after not cutting for at least 6 months. The trigger was so stupid, but it made me feel like the only way I could stop feeling like I was aquaplaning was to cut and I hadn’t felt like that for a long time. I took care of everything all ok, I mean I put antiseptic cream on it and then got it checked out by the school nurse when I thought it might be infected (it wasn’t). Eventually I told my mum after days of hiding it and it wasn’t a problem really, it just made her sad that I’d been so alone. It scared me to think that I could fall back in to the cycle of which I haven’t, but instead I now find myself fighting the need to cut again. I have fallen is what I’m trying to say, because even though I haven’t cut again after the intial cut I feel so bad again that I need to.
This week has been particularly awful, as I’ve had to confront the issue of my sexuality, which I hate and so my anxiety levels are through the roof. Also I’m not eating properly and making myself sick after eating anything. I just feel a bit better whith an empty stomach at the moment. I know it’s bad for me, but I feel like I need to either not eat or just keep making myself sick. I don’t think I’m becoming bulimic or anything like that, because I’m obese and nobody would take me seriously if I told them what I’ve been doing. I don’t think it’s even possible for me to develop an eating disorder as I’m so overweight. I suppose I’m just a bit worried about it all the same though as I have made myself sick on several occasions in the past though when the anxiety has been at it’s worst, but it’s never been a regular habit like it has recently.
I’m really struggling to get help at the moment and in the right places too, because talking about my sexuality only makes my anxiety worse. It doesn’t help either that the teacher I usually go to for help at school with my mental health problems is the person I think I’ve fallen in love with which really hurts. Part of me is thinking “what’s the use, who really gives a shit?” as I write this and it’s all come out wrong and disjointed anyway and I sound so stupid, but if anyone’s got any suggestions for me then I’d appreciate it. Please don’t ask me why I hate my sexuality, because I don’t know, but it’s not going anywhere.
So this is it, the truth as I see it; I cannot help any of you, just as you cannot help me.
Everyone thinks I’m so much better andÂ stableÂ now than I was when I was 14, but evenÂ though it is evident that I have improved if you took away the anti-depressants that got me here then I would just crumble again. The pills don’t make me happy, they make me more balanced and stable and unfortunately I rely on that and knowing thatÂ makes me feel shit, becauseÂ it reminds me that I cannot cope on my own.Â Also I can’t tell my family about how desperate I’ve been feeling in the last three weeks and that I’ve been to the bridge over the bypassÂ onÂ numerous occasions, because it’s been that bad. I can’t explain to them the real reason that I am feeling suicidal whenÂ they just think it’s stress. I don’t want them to worry and be watching my everyÂ move like before, but I can’t live like this and I still can’t tell them, at least not until the very end when I’m gone.
I don’t belong in this world. I don’t fit in anywhere,Â not even in my own family. Rejection isÂ not unfamiliar to me and so I’ve learned to isolate myself, so that I can deal with things without hurting others andÂ that way they can’t hurt me either. Talking about it all doesn’t make itÂ go away either, so I’m just stuck in this vicious circle that is my life and even though I think I mightÂ know how to break out of it, I’m not that brave and so the only way is down. I really don’t see any hope for me and you don’t evenÂ know the half of it.
That’s why you can’t help me andÂ I can’t help you, becauseÂ you’re the only one who can break the vicious circle in your life, but you already knewÂ that. Knowing that there are other people like me in the world doesn’t make a difference it doesn’t help. I share my experiences with others when they come to me for help, because they know my history, butÂ it never really feels like I’m helping them at all.
I’m just useless, that’s my truth.
Where the river runs red,
no one sleeps, but the dead,
with their eyes open wide,
they know nothing of pride,
in this land, despair reigns,
it has people in chains,
but the world doesn’t care,
it doesn’t know that it’s there,
for what it’s made this land feel,
it doesn’t believe to be real.
In the place where the red river flows,
it is only those,
that have lived there,
who can know,
why? People often come, but never go,
as where the river runs red,
all the people are dead.
When the shadow falls,
across your face,
and the crumbling walls,
leave only darkening dust in your place,
there’ll be no one left who recalls,
your realisation, you won’t fall with grace.
Instead you’ll die by your own hand,
now that you’ve stumbled across this land,
and something you thought was never true,
you discover has just happened to you.
So how does it feel to be lower than low?
when the pain makes life go so slow,
and you hide all the emotions you cannot show,
knowing things you thought you’d never know.
You ask God why me?
this wasn’t how my life was supposed to be,
it wasn’t meant to end like this,
being eaten up, drowned or free-falling in to the abyss.
So unless you’ve found yourself in this land,
please don’t pretend that you understand,
you won’t share in my fate,
so chances are that you’re not my mate,
for I shall meet my end,
when my body floats around the red riverbend.
Though please don’t look to visit,
because nothing’s what it seems, is it?
My past doesn’t really matter now, although the wounds still run deep in the hearts of my family and friends. I’m ashamed to say that I made those cuts and sores within them everytime I tried to hurt myself. This could be interpreted as me being self-centered which is not my intention, I just realise how much my actions effect other people around me and I’ll take responsibility for that.
I haven’t been a member of this website for very long, but I’m choosing to write now, because my one pressing reason to kill myself is something that I can’t bear to talk about with anyone. This reason is sucking the life out of me each and every day, just eating away at me from the inside out and I’m not sleeping properly, because of it too. The reason is, that I think I might be homosexual. Nothing about me is rational and I know that my reason doesn’t sound rational at all, but I feel so disgusting and repulsive and full of self-hatred, because of this.
Half of my family are religious and the other half are common, hard as nails, farmers, so both wouldn’t take kindly to me being that way inclined. I’ve never had a problem with homosexuals and bisexuals, even before I was in this state of confusing distress, but it makes me terrified to think that there aren’t people as open-minded and accepting out there.
Some people know that I’m in this state of not knowing, although telling them didn’t help, because it feels like they’re holding they’re breath. It’s like waiting on the results of a pregnancy test for an unwanted pregnancy, everyone is hoping that it comes back negative and I turn out to be straight. I tried talking to my mum about it, but she was very evasive and just tried to brush it under the carpet, so I haven’t spoken about it to her since then.
The people that know about my current state say that they wouldn’t see me any differently, but they would. I know this, because one of my friends came out as bi recently and everyone has been talking about it behind his back. I just don’t want anyone to get hurt and I don’t want to get hurt either. I can’t face the thought of rejection and disownment. I don’t want to be the disappointment in people’s lives either, because lets face it who wants their child to grow up to be homosexual? I don’t see a life ahead of me if this is what I am. I could never have kids, not even by adoption, because I wouldn’t want to subject a child to that.
Being homosexual would mean that I would live in constant fear, shame and guilt and that is why I want to die. I don’t know what else to do.