For those who have survived suicide.
Hey my friends ! I really wanna know how everybody’s doing. What’s something that made you laugh this past week? Did you run into an old acquaintance? How is life right now ?
For those who have survived suicide.
I think i might suffer from ptsd And my relationship with my father is pretty bad. We’ve never been really close especially after some events that happened in my childhood. Long story short, verbal and physical abuse. He even used to beat my cat. At best, he would totally ignore my existence, greeting everyone on the table except me, at worst call me a dog in front of guests, whispering that i was digusting. I was pretty badly beaten by my sibling n he n my mum would make me apologize everytime that happened. It was pretty rough man. Sometimes i wonder how i made It out alive. I’m pretty weak personality and emotions wise. I’ve learned how to be obedient so now we just act like nothing happened. I laugh when he makes jokes, greet him with a smile, listen to his crap. Overall, I’m just really afraid of him. Whenever we’re alone, I feel my heart tightening up n time moves slowly. I just can’t take it anymore. I feel like a waken person living with zombies. They act as if nothing happened n I have to fucking play along. Today, my dad called me couldn’t stop fucking talking about what he did today then he started lecturing me about communication skills and how I should be forgiving. Man, something inside me just cracked. Some pretty violent ideas came through my mind, I fucking hate him, I hate this, everything. I fucking wanna die. He destroyed every little piece of self esteem I’ve tried building these days. Now back to point 0. God help me, idk what to do anymore. I have some very important exams coming up, and I’m so behind. I wanna get out of here, I wanna go home, i wanna feel warmth n love. Being severely depressed doesn’t help. There’s just nothing in me. Please I need advice, somebody help me out I beg you.
I’m really losing my mind and i don’t know what to do. i just can’t get used to this feeling, the sadness, the hopelessness. I feel nothing. The only two emotions that exist in my mind are anger and sadness. I don’t wanna die but Im extremely tired. My psychiatrist prescribed antidepressants , but i don’t know i’ve read so many bad things abt them. I’m afraid that they would change me or make me « dumber ». If someone has already tried em, please help me out.
Society has idealized death so much that it has become common for most of us to see it as a way out imagining an end to our own pain and suffering by form of stoping. What a burden to feel like we must take it upon ourselves to end our lives- it is dreadfully sad. Part of the problem is that society paints picture of death as “pretty and/or infinity”. For me, I believed in religion so much that I got caught up in a slippery slope. I was trapped by letting others dictate my way of life and define who I am. Religion told me that dying is good if it’s for others, and convinced me there was a “reward waiting in heaven” … I say, I’d rather enjoy rewards on earth. I believe it would be more plentiful to enjoy experiences on earth than in a distant unknown galaxy where I don’t even know what would become of me.
As a survivor, what troubles me is not how I let things get to my head but rather how I gathered misconstrued (false) facts that added up to my accepting opting out of this world. Luckily for me, I wound up in an urgent care facility after acting upon my crisis urges. All the pain I had done to myself had demolished my future; cooped me up like a weakened worm in a cocoon, too sick to become a butterfly: cold, shivering, and split. Self harm is agony and you will not find peace. What it all boils down to is to be able to differ the ideologies of death and the harsh reality that death is not “pretty/infinite”. The wrongness of this world cannot define you, thoughts of self harm are valid and must be talked about because death is painful, morbid and should not be the way out. So dear brave souls, If you are contemplating suicide or experience harmful thoughts- Talk to The Suicide Lifeline 1800-273-8255 or 911.
I have found that in time of difficulty watching some mental illness awareness movies helps me. To name just a few, “All the Bright Places”; “The Perks of Being a Wallflower”; “Little Miss Sunshine”, “Words on the Bathroom Walls”. In my perspective, I’d rather stick with what I know to be true than to go down that spiral again. If someone out there cares, include me.
To The Person That I Mirrored Myself
Despite the fact that I am fully aware of what is going on in your life, your inspirational and motivational messages captivated me. I admire your ways of dealing with life because I don’t. Four years ago, I was in your shoes. I am a goal-oriented person who is concerned with the future and success. I was a “church girl” who read scriptures always and prayed three times a day, till I had all I had today; I speak of it all as PTSD anxiety about panic depression attacks. I’ve become forgetful, so perhaps you’re worth telling my story for.
I’m having a hard time concentrating on anything. I’m rereading messages five times to make sure I understand what they’re about. If you ask me if I saw something, I might have been looking right at it and missed it. Half of the time, I have no idea what the topic of a conversation is. Something is wrong, and I can’t seem to control myself. I’m just going through the motions of my life, and anything that requires my presence is a struggle for some reason.
Senior High School. Being a Senior High Schooler was exciting, especially as a newcomer. They’re all looking at you because they’ve finally seen a different girl, literally different. I got good grades in my previous high school, so I don’t mind when people try to rely on me because I’m used to it.
House. At home, I’m dealing with a situation I never wanted to be in. I finally saw my father for the first time. But the consequences are that I don’t have to see my mother, that I must obey them because this is their home, that I must obey my stepmother, and that I must be nice to my stepsiblings who have attitude issues. And, as a fighter and a strong person (as far as I know), I accepted the challenge and promised my real mother that I’d take easy on these.
Myself. Because I am different from everyone else in school, I decided to handle everything on my own, especially when my classmates began to bully me because other sections wanted to meet and be friends with me. I ate alone, I went home alone, I studied alone, and I sat alone. Constantly hearing insults and negative thoughts about me, as well as how my presence irritated them. Every time I take the stage, they laugh and ask why I’m so sure of myself when I don’t have anything like theirs.
First love. I have always enjoyed joining organizations, writing school newspapers, and participating in talent shows those times, which is why I am well-known throughout the school. It’s no surprise that I caught the attention of the school’s varsity three-point shooter, with whom I quickly fell in love despite the fact that we could be far more different. He ignores the rules, whereas I do not.
Consequences of my actions. After months of being bullied at school, I finally ignored them because I had my pill – my boyfriend. I kept this from my acting parents (I mean they’re trying to be a parent) because they might not send me to school if they found out. I forget about the problems that have been making me weak for months as long as I have my boyfriend. But, as they said, every happiness comes with a price. They recently discovered everything about me and my boyfriend, which made me angry because they are attempting to steal my happiness AGAIN, but that time, I want them to fail. They have forbidden me from attending my organizations, so I am forced to leave. Leave anything that might raise their suspicions because they are afraid of wasting money on me for nothing. I didn’t tell anyone why I needed to leave all of the organizations just to get home at 5 p.m. I just ignored them and got used to going to classes and coming home to do chores and homework. To add to that, my father wasn’t always at home, so I was always at their house doing my stepmother’s job. I cooked, washed dishes, and assisted her in washing their clothes when all she did was put her clothes in the washing machine every time it stopped spinning. I tutor her child, clean the bathrooms, their room, the rooftop with dogs and poops, feed the dogs, clean the rooftop, and look after their plants before I can do what I need to do and forget what I want to do. Not long ago, my father used to scold me every time he came home for reasons I still don’t understand. I’m wondering if it’s because I have a boyfriend. Is that it? I can take insults, but insulting my mother with someone who barely knows us is a distraction. I easily become enraged whenever they bring up my mother because of my mistakes. I once fought with them and yelled at them just as much as they yelled at me. After that, I fainted, and they took me to the hospital, but they don’t care; they’re more concerned with the costs of my check-ups, despite the fact that I know they’re not poor and that a single penny for my health won’t cost them much. Before we met, I had Bell’s Palsy and had to take numerous medications and treatments that caused me to gain weight. After quarrels with my acting parents, I learned to adapt with their environment, I learned to fake everything because it makes everything alright. I pretend to have changed and come to like them as they desired. But, despite of learning to shut up to insults, they continued to be mean to me, so I shrugged it off and focused on what made me happy. Because I had nothing to worry about with my academics, I had to divert my attention away from my personal issues by taking absences and skipping classes. At least once a week, my boyfriend and I try to sneak out of school and go somewhere.
To cut a long story short, I was caught numerous times and they have to be stricter. I had to spend less time with my boyfriend because my rank had dropped and I was on the verge of falling out of the top ten. But one day, I went home because my mother called and said she would be there to pack my belongings and take me with her. Of course I want it, but I must accept the consequences once more. I’m not sure what happened that day, but my mother was crying, and all I did was follow her and sent me back to Laguna before my father caught up with us. I’m not sure what path I took that day, but I missed my mom and didn’t want us to be separated again. After a week, I persuaded her to rent me an apartment near my school so that I could finish the semester and then transfer to another school with her. My father and stepmother recently found out where I’ve been thanks to my “friends”. I had no idea it was another trap set by my stepmother at the time. She must be struggling with the responsibilities of a wife in the absence of me.
My father and mother talked about it, and I agreed to whatever they agreed on. After that, I don’t want to hurt my mother any further. She got a job as a maid, which made me happy because she was the only motivation I had at the time to be more patient with my father and his wife. Arguments in the house never ended because of my step mother’s personal reasons (I don’t know about her), but I learned to ignore everything, and I’ve become immune to her shouting and shouting from my dad through the phone every time I’m on the jeepney on my way home. SOMETIMES, it would be better if I didn’t come home, but I didn’t. That day, I learned how to smoke, as if I needed it… Even though I hate the smell, it relieves me.
I never stopped skipping classes with my boyfriend until it became too much for me. I am a virgin, and I never imagined that I would eventually do it with him, from going out into places like parks and computer shops to going out into places like motels and free spaces. Once a week, that’s how we spent our time together, and we always did it safely; we were both innocent about it, so we explored until I became paranoid because the contraceptive broke before he was released. We stopped doing it until my period came.
When I got home, I was surprised to see that my stepmother had brought me cake and had prepared pancit for me. I thought she realized that battles should be settled in their home with me. But rather, she persuaded me to talk about my boyfriend, claiming that as a mother, she should know him in order to understand me and offered that the house is always open whenever we want to spend our time together. I’m grateful for the offer, and I followed through on her suggestions. I don’t skip classes anymore, she’s nice to my boyfriend even though my father didn’t know, I thought she was covering for me and as a mom (a parent), she understands teenagers fall in love but that’s what I thought until she called my father to come home and set her trap. She left me at their house and let my father caught us. He caught us, watching movie at the sofa that made him very very angry.
I kept quiet; I never told my father she allowed me to do it because I knew it was my fault for believing in her. I took it all and paid for my mistakes because I wanted to compete in the pageant and represent our section. I persuaded my father to back me up, and he did. My most recent contest was a huge distraction for me. They were not pleased that I had placed second runner-up. I also dropped my rank, which made them even more disappointed.
My mother informed me that she was no longer working and that she had returned home from her parents to marry her new husband. I was both happy and sad, knowing that they all had their lives and that I was stuck in the situation they had put me in with my mean stepmother. I never told my mother that she shouldn’t get another husband and should instead wait until I graduated college and we could be together again. I listened to her; she said it was difficult for her to be alone with no one to talk to; she also needed her happiness, so I let her. So all I have is my boyfriend, whom I recently discovered to be cheating on me with her other FB account. Because summer is approaching, and it is inconvenient for us to have problems and fix them while we are away.
Everything was fine not until I received a creepy texts and threatened messages from an anonymous sender, slut shaming and all. Dummy accounts have been created to harass me online and spread rumors among my classmates, teachers, and even the principal. That person knows me well, he knows my history, and after a few days, my Facebook account was hacked. Threatened me that I should not go home alone because I might get hurt; he also screen captured conversations from my account and spread them to all of my friends who reacted to my posts. That made me suspicious to everyone, and I became paranoid, experiencing sleep paralysis every other night. I overeat and have attempted suicide several times.
Despite being told to come to my school to discuss the matter, I never spoke with my parents about it. I never did because they are the prime suspect. The anonymous sender told me that it started when I was in grade 11, and that he was really annoyed with me and wanted me to disappear, and that I didn’t deserve to be the second runner-up. Since then, I’ve had low self-esteem, and whenever I have free time, I go to the clinic and pretend to be sick in order to fall asleep. I slept more at school and don’t sleep at home, especially when I have to avoid everyone because my peers talked so quietly about me that I could hear them.
I finally graduated from high school, and the possibility of attending college stresses me out. My parents do not want to spend money on me, by which I mean my tuition fee. They wanted to enroll me in a university where tuition is free or low-cost; otherwise, I would not attend college. So PUP was the only university for which I had exams. I passed, but the list’s release date was very late, which made me worry too much and made me depressed, especially when they started calling me Bobo and stuff because my name was not on the first list that was released.
I was relieved to learn that I had passed the entrance exam. It provides me with opportunities, despite the fact that the remaining courses are not what I am looking for. I took it because I had no other option, but even though I passed the exam, my father expects me to get the higher courses without them spending money on me. On the other hand, they still have the option of getting what they want. My boyfriend and I stopped working out months ago. He ignored me as if nothing had happened. I recently learned that he spends his nights with some girls and bottles and that I am not required to do anything about it. I tried to chase him, but he pushed me even further over the edge.
I’m getting better, but it’s my ex-boyfriend who keeps me going. I used Tinder to hook up with a lot of men and play with them. I did the same thing my ex did to me: I ghosted everyone. I have my FUBU, and we see each other whenever I have some free time. That’s how I spent my freshman year of college. It gets worse when I discover something is wrong with my father and my stepmother’s daughter. I nearly puked when I found out, but I’m at a loss for what to do about it. And just as things were getting better, the anonymous ***** sender messaged again. Again, he has screen shoted all of my conversations with the men with whom I am conversing. He informs them that made me delete my Facebook account and create a new one. And a week ago, the anonymous ***** messaged my cellphone number again, this time with a picture link to my most recent address and a creepy face that was googled and got from scrbd site. That has been my life since 2016, and before that I had a different life. My uncle sexually harassed me, so we went to another location, which is now my home. I’ve also been pointed with a gun in the past. My life sucks, and I’m not sure where it’s going.
the way my blood ran cold every time you threatened me
the way that the blade felt as i dug it into my flesh to form the letters of your name
the way the candle wax burned as it hit my skin
the way that the acidic feeling in my throat would linger when you made me film myself purging
the way i would try to speak clearly between sobs in those videos you forced me to make, the ones where i apologized to you
the way you talked me out of taking my life in front of you, not out of love, but out of your desire to keep me as a pet
the way you told me that killing myself was selfish, that you needed me to stay
the way i begged you to make the pain stop as i dragged a razor down my face, over and over, while you told me to smile
the way you manipulated me
the way you abused me
the way that i continue to recall those memories against my will,
all of it is torture.
Hello, so let’s just start this off with a “I should be dead right now” I have no idea why I’m still alive. My girlfriends in the past have cheated on me and my girlfriend now likes someone else and hates me. My family told me to kill myself many times in the past and doesn’t care about me. I’m alone and by myself. I’ve tried many MANY times in the past and failed. Every. Single. Time. The closest I’ve ever come to death is a car accident in 2017 and I was in a 8 month coma. God only KNOWS how I came out of THAT. I should of died right there, on the damn street where I laid. But I didn’t and I’m still confused on why. Can someone explain to me why am I still here? Cause I’m just about done living life.
I didn’t check on my post a few days after I uploaded it, so I didn’t reply to anyone.
I wanted to do so, so it wouldn’t look like I’m dead.
In the meanwhile I did try to commit, “first time” (I was anorexic in the past, I don’t know if it counts). I came out whole.
My dad beat me up a week ago.
I’m fine, my right leg twitched uncontrollably for a minute but now it’s gone. I’m not sure how I should feel about it though.
his name is censored and the lines have been recolored for safety reasons. i’m a minor. please don’t sexualize any of this. please. this is vent art that I made during the time I was being abused. everything written was taken straight from voice memos, emails, and messages.
edit: how many times do i have to reiterate that this wasn’t a relationship. leave me alone. please.
he gave me everything and nothing all at the same time. i was absolutely convinced that i was in love with him, that he was the only one who could ever truly be with me. because he told me so. he told me that he was the only person who could ever possibly understand someone like me, the only person who could truly make me happy. it was a falsity, to say the least. a sham. i bled for him. i destroyed myself for him. i gave him every ounce of life that i had left in me until i was running on empty. and even still, i fell further and further into his grasp. no matter how much he tightened his grip, no matter how hard it was for me to breathe, i believed that this pain was love. he told me it was love. i had no choice but to believe him. he claimed to love me, but then he would threaten to hurt my family and do horrible, unspeakable things. the blackmail taught me to sit, stay, and lay down. i learned to obey out of habit, the threats only escalated the more i challenged him, therefore i learned to keep quiet. i learned to be subservient. to submit. the fear he instilled in me was part of the mind-control. the manipulation. the brainwashing. i bled so much for him, tore open my own flesh and kept my mouth shut. nobody can know. nobody can know. he was one that would break my legs and then force me to walk. the one that would gouge out my eyes and force me to see. the one that would tear out my lungs and then force me to breathe. yet, i continue to grieve. a part of me screams into the void, begging for him to come back, to love me and only me. but, i was the one who left and ran as far as i could. why do i miss the very thing that destroyed me?
“Your life is loaned to you through an abuser. It is on his or her whim that you thrive, struggle, hope, and fear. In abuse, you can endure a thousand losses for a single, shimmering penny that proves you’ve won something.” – Amanda Domuracki
they seldom had a name or a face. they knew everything about me but i knew nothing about them. their anonymity versus my specificity. no name, no face. just words, just abuse. they offered me nothing but threats and love that was a falsity. once caught in the first one’s trap, i was left wounded like a fox in the jaws of a bear trap. with bone showing and flesh cut away, it made me easier to catch. it weakened me. then came the next hunter, the next predator. and the next. and the next. unachievable is my justice as they remain nameless, faceless.
the disgust. the self shaming and hatred. it kills me. because of the nature of the abuse i’ve endured, i’m left with a body devoid of purity, a husk adorned with scars and tainted with contempt. i am repulsed. i am repulsed with myself, i am repulsed by sexuality because it has not been presented to me as a loving gift, but a weapon. a weapon to degrade me and disintegrate any sense of dignity i had left. a weapon to steal away the power from me, to leave me as nothing but a puppet. a slave. reduced to an object. discarded once they’ve tortured me until i’m emotionally unresponsive, until i’m numb. they get bored, and they discard me.
the repulsion often eats away at me.
I’m so tired.
Partially because the ~6 or so hours of sleep I get are of abysmal quality, but I mostly attribute my exhaustion to me being sick. I’m so fucking sick. I’m so exhausted all the time, the nightmares and night terrors plague me and I spend a significant amount of my day thinking about the awful dreams or worrying that it’s some kind of “sign” or “warning,” as if I have precognition or some shit (I know it’s stupid, I don’t know why my anxiety seems to make me delusional to an extent). The effects of my PTSD are fucking debilitating. The dissociation kills me. I often depersonalize and I’m looking at the world through tunnel vision, it feels like I’m in a first-person VR video game and I’m looking down. My hands aren’t mine, everything feels strange and unreal.
“Okay, I’m sick
Not the kind of sick that lands you in the doctor
Not the kind that makes you weak and then heals you stronger
It’s the kind of sick that turns your legs into spaghetti
It’s the kind of sick that makes your blood burn and your bones heavy
The kind of sick that makes an atheist pray for Jesus
The kind of sickness that turns your power into weakness
And I’m sick of being sick for this whole fucking place to witness
And I’m living a sick life that most people call privileged
And they’re kinda right, but I’m still sicker than I can cope with”
The definition of overwhelming pain is when pain exceeds one’s ability to cope, aka my daily life.
I’m talking just the physical pain, too…there is almost always an accompanying existential crises about self-worth and chronic illness.
As someone living with multiple chronic illnesses, including endometriosis and chronic nerve entrapment, the story of my daily life resembles both that of a heroine in a gothic horror novel and that of a golem girl made of glass. And to me this makes sense, the mood of my body oscillating regularly between two worlds – stuck in the middle just like everything else in my life.
And so goes the story of the golem girl made of class, the “cheerboxerina,” and the forever in-between-er: (1) born a patrilineal but not enough for either religious world or cultural identity; (2) discovered a budding bisexuality at an early age yet never queer enough to earn my gold star status; and (3) found a new gender without enough dialogue to talk about it.
It’s not been an easy road for me, despite my privileges, and apparently, you must be thankful for those even immediately after a suicide attempt. Although I truly wonder about those privileges, at least sometimes, because it feels like the notion of them applying to my life is an attempt to silence me, especially at this point in (my) history. Besides, with all the advances in mental health treatment in the last century, medical staff should know more about intersectionality and stop belittling patients about their privilege before treating them.
Part of the reason things got so desperate for me (this time) is that there was no where else to turn, and that’s for someone who is even comfortable checking herself into the emergency department for suicidal thoughts.
However, at a certain point, when you have non-mind-body conditions (plus some mind-body and mental health conditions), the emergency room just stops treating you, or they start treating either the mind or the body. As you can imagine, none of those options goes well for the pain patient with mental illness and suicidal feelings – and leaves them feeling very trapped.
Very, very, very trapped…
Very trapped in a system that doesn’t care.
And surrounded by caregivers who are burning out (but love to self-congratulate) – or who have already burnt out and disappeared (but still love to self-congratulate about “the one time” they helped out) – and are not capable of providing the mental health crisis support needed after an attempt.
So, here am I. But who am I? And how will we (my partner witnessed my last suicide attempt, which happened in quarantine) survive the recovery period? So far, it’s been hard to improve my mood and environment during the pandemic era. Complicating the matter, and maybe it’s odd to say this, but the feeling of “wanting to die” is comfortable because it’s always been with me.
However, thinking that you actively want to die isn’t conducive to a stable, or healthy, relationship in the long-term, so things need to change. If not for me or my loved ones, then for our cats.
No matter how depressed or suicidal the now feels, my thoughts can always turn to my household’s past, present, and future cats, and how much they love me. And besides, thinking about our cats almost always takes my head out of the clouds and grounds my body back into the earth, thanks to some targeted hypnotherapy sessions.
Guess this suicide project idea worked, like science says it should, because my mood is much better after writing this post. And that’s even with burning out before writing about the attempt.
it’s been so long since I posted here
Im 19 now, I dropped out- listen, university ISNT for everyone. Especially if you’re rushing things.
my dad is back in Honduras again, I mean I’m happy about that at least. I’m afraid he’ll come back.. I know he will.
to hurt us.
im doing.. okay? I guess, I don’t know how to put it, i role play as ponies, My Little Pony OCS, they’re fun actually. I used to role play before, but I drifted away after I turned 15… then im back in it again. Oh how the world goes in a circle.
i get paid with unemployment money, I mean it’s not a lot, hahah America. but I feel.. not happy? I just.. feel safe.
I feel safe he’s not gonna grab my neck and choke me out.
I feel safe.. calmer..
Im not saying my depression and suicidal thoughts are gone, nah.
They’re still there. I always hear them, that I’m not good enough, or I’m a piece of garbage. Hah.
I go “Ay Naku!” Everytime i self deprecate. It’s terrible.
But sometimes I’m happy where I am, my art has improved so much over the years, and I’ve grown as a person to help my friends. Sure I have my panic attacks, anxiety attacks, mental breakdown, trauma… but I know things will get better. I just have to keep living.
I hope you guys can all too. It’s hard, huh?
I’ve been scared, I got lost within the darkness..the shadows keep me awake.
I know my truth, while you scream that “it was all fake.”
you have to face yourself in the mirror and what evil things you did.
you not only scared me now, but you brought up memories I buried from when I was a fucking KID !
Facing trauma daily because I’m afraid I’m going to be hurt again, then when nighttime hits, I’m left with thoughts of how I just want this life to fucking END. I don’t want to live but I don’t want to die, I don’t wanna be numb but I also don’t want to cry. Racing thoughts, racing fears, fighting back all these damn tears. Blood threatening me, you trying to scare me into staying quiet, NO I deserve justice! I will start my own riot!
Forewarning: this post may contain triggers for victims of sexual assault, drug addiction, homelessness, domestic violence, self harm.
Resilience has always been my ally. I first posted to this forum for help when I was 12. To be completely honest , I’m a little surprised to be writing this right now.
Unfortunately, although my resilience got me this far (I’m to turn 23 on January, the 5th), I’m struggling to see beyond the current moment, unless I want to feed the intrusive thoughts and disgust that I feel. I can’t fake positivity and I don’t have the energy to pursue real happiness. I feel like some sick dramatization of a malnourished ivory lab rat. It’s ruby eyes dancing wildly through a maze, that I never willingly entered. And, I’m to feel selfish for wanting out?
I’ve been unemployed since April 2020. Since then, I’ve done whatever I could to make sure I kept myself off the streets again. I ended up living in a barn for three months outside of Portland OR. To my perplexity, I somehow managed to keep my estrogen levels relatively stable during that time. And, was able to avoid any major mental breakdowns. Despite jumping off a bridge, an awkward family reunion and getting attacked by 4 people in a parking lot… the summer seemed pretty normal. I was fortunate enough to move into a cozy house with 3 friends. I really love it here but, I get denied nearly every job that I apply for. Most of the time, when I do get selected for a position, I’m turned away before even starting due to my criminal background (from 3 years ago) when I was shooting meth and heroin.
Side note: After over dosing a handful of times and realizing I had hope, I was able to gather myself and save enough money to move to PDX and escape my old circles.
Sorry… as I was saying. Finding work has been tough. I started doing full service sex work without telling my boyfriend because, I know he doesn’t have the money and if I don’t pay my rent, I’ll have to move back to where my corruption started. Where everyone knows me as a boy turned woman. And, I know that he isn’t attached enough for a distanced relationship.
Onyx (background) skip if my love life doesn’t interest you??: I met onyx a year ago after breaking things off with a ridiculously abusive partner. This past partner went as far as to pour lube on my head and spit in my face (because I refused sex), pushed me in front of a moving vehicle and spread my contact information and social media on Reddit. Following this final stab, I received hours of call after call and man after man asking me for a $20 blowjob or threatening to come to my address and kill me for being trans. I was feeling pretty low and living in a mold covered apartment with no real path in sight. And then Onyx popped in. I felt excited to wake up and found myself full of energy even if the day was long. But, this was short lived and he slowly clued me in on Nicolette. She’s everything I could’ve possibly wanted to be at that time and couldn’t possibly achieve over night. Things got muddy and he ended up ghosting me to continue his relationship with her. During these months I worked at a sex club and was raped at work multiple times. I tried telling a co-worker and they told me it was my fault because I didn’t yell for help. A few months later, Oynx and Nicolette broke up and I was seeing someone else. But, on the same exact mf day that I broke up with that person, Onyx texted me after 3 months of silence. I debated ignoring him but, I just couldn’t. And now, we’re still together but, I feel so alone in the relationship. And with the secret sex work, I just can’t see a future for us. And when I try to be a good girlfriend, it just feels fake. I asked him about monogamy and he basically said it would hurt him if I was seeing anyone else but, he shouldn’t be expected to love me forever…
Which means, I’ll have to handle my new job moving bodies for a morgue, practically by myself with no solid support system. Moving. Bodies. …
I’ve seen relatives in caskets, best friend died in her car and 3 people have tried to commit suicide in front of me. The first one was bloody. The second was drug related. And, the third was probably the worst. So, I’ll leave it at that.
and I’ve attempted with intent to kill, 3 times myself.
I don’t want this career to ruin my sanity. I know I need a therapist but, I don’t like meds or trusting strangers. And, I want to be with Onyx but, when I try to talk to him about what’s going on and how I feel, he just checks out and tells me that my feelings are my responsibility. I just wish he would take the time to deal with me. I’m supposed to go back to where I’m from in 2 days to see my aunt; for the holidays. I’m hoping the trip with be a sort of refuge so I can gather my thoughts and decide if this shit is actually worth it to me anymore. Until then I guess.?? And thank you for bearing with the mess; if you have. I appreciate you.-MustardTea
This is my story about why I almost killed myself back in late November of 2019. Most of the time when we hear suicide we get this idea of someone doing it because they want “the pain to stop” or they feel that suicide is the only way out. Well, that’s not why I almost killed myself. I did it out of sheer guilt. A little backstory as to what lead to this was that I had a friend that I unintentionally made feel uncomfortable multiple times throughout the fall semester of my junior year at college. Nothing that I did was sexual in any way, but I didn’t find out about this until she sat down with me and said that my behavior appears to be possessive along with me having a crush on this person. However, I did not have a crush on this person and even if I did I would’ve suppressed it because this person is asexual so I never would’ve attempted to try and pursue an intimate relationship. Unfortunately, when they told me this I was already in a dark place and I didn’t give this person the apology that they deserved because I just shut down and was drowning in remorse. Then security is knocking on my door at 1:47 and says that they received a call that someone was a possible danger to themselves and they were right because I was. I told the security guards my story and they said that you seem to be drowning in guilt and even then “your life is valuable” along with the nurse that checked me into the wellness center on campus. I had to actually fight the urge to scoff and even laugh when they said this because I a pretty hard time believing that my life has any value. The next morning security comes back to my room and says that the person has issued a non-communication order as it was usually recommended by security when you call them about an individual, but I understood and asked them if they could at least tell the person that I’m really sorry about what I did. This was at the start of Thanksgiving break, but I didn’t try to kill myself until after the break when I was walking down a street at night when a voice in my head says “why don’t you just kill yourself you worthless piece of shit. No one is going to miss you and the world really would be better off without and it’s what you deserve.” And I almost did it, maybe less than half a second more and I would’ve thrown myself in front of a moving car and that would have been it. Through the months after that, I tried to heal, but today I had those emotional wounds opened up again because one of my friends found out and essentially threatened me, causing the region below my stomach to ache as well as my forehead. It made me re-evaluate whether I’m even a good person and whether I made the right choice of not killing myself back in November. Sometimes I look back on that time and the thought of “I should have died that day” comes up sometimes, but what do you think?
Ive been betrayed, abused, mentally fucked, cheated, lied to , spied on, stolen from, robbed of happyness and all my belongings, caged in psych wards, my entire life… But it occured to me, a few years ago… That I too, live in some kind of floating box CIA prison , the same as Terry A Davis claimed he did, and explained… For over 20 years. Even in my youth, people shit on me, talk down to me, betray me. .. fuck me over… The suicide attempts, the depression, the pain i went through, the betrayals…. I never knew I lived in some kind of prison that followed me around until a few years ago, I didnt know that this life was a construct around me, with the deliberate purpose of torturing me… the entire “gangstalking” things is a cover up, honey trap, for the real victims to run to online, where they just abuse them more, and discredit them.. a whole fiasco, a shit show. a mockery of the true “target” of theirs. .. . what a fucking joke. the jokes on me. as Terry A Davis said, “i live in a cia prison, a ****** runs my prison” …… yeah…. Yeah sure, we developed all the symptoms of schizophrenia, most heavily abused people do. It didnt come natural. We werent given a chance in life. To be normal. Because we think differently. We dont suck societies cock. We arent pussies. We dont conform like sheep following a trend. Thats cool. Thats punk rock. Terry A Davis , id like to say I can make it until the day comes, where this torture shit , the truth is revealed. And i will try. But today is a bad day. Im pretty down. I joined this site to rant. To express my pain and sorrow. Sometimes I dont know if I can make it another day. What a shit life. I will try to see the day this is exposed and get some kind of vindication for you. If for nothing else.
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