Hello everyone,Â Nice to meet you.Â I’m 28 years old male, unemployed and just looking for ppls to chat with.
i live with my parents (again) and i’m 28 years old, nearly 29. i work on computers for 40 hours a week. over the past year i have cleared up a lot of debt (largely in part because mom and dad have not charged me rent and put a dinner on the table for me). i’m coming up on a year at my current job; the end of May marks both my 1-year anniversary and my birthday.
about this time last year i was calling the police on some dumb ***** and her self-centered daughter when she threatened my life. i was such a wreck, racing down the street on foot with a hiking backpack full of what little possessions i could carry inside, i half-panting and half-yelling into the phone explained that she pulled a knife on me and threatened my life before i left the house in a hurry. i quickly hung up on the 9-11 operator who wanted me to stay on the phone and paced out of the neighborhood into the thick Virginia forest across the street.
i had been here before; in the weeks previous as things deteriorated around the house, i came here with a flask of Jack Daniels to be alone and drunk away from all of the pain. my plan was set now; part of the flask of Jack from my last trip out into the woods was already in my stomach and the railroad tracks used for a variety of purposes lay just ahead. it is difficult to recall what it felt like as i crested the mound of dirt upon which the tracks were lain among the wet, mushy ground of this forest away from the shopping center. the day was sunny and i’m certain i was sweating from all the drunken effort of racing to the rail lines with a 50-lb. pack on my back. i think a certain sense of elation arrived at first, happy i was finally here, looking upon the place i would die. this wasn’t the first time i’ve seen this place. or thought those thoughts. god damn i hoped i could stay strong and finish it this time.
then the fear hit me, slowly at first, but the gravity of my actions did start to weigh down on me. i had a few minutes to reflect on the matter. i rest my pack on the rails, taking seat on my pack, and checked the time on my $10 phone. i give a few more thoughts to the horrible thing that just unfolded with the family i was living with. no regrets there; i was nice, polite, respectful, and i never did anyone wrong. homeless in Virginia, with no friends, limited funds, and a family in a state thousands of miles away who you don’t hear from or feel like you will ever be close to again, things were adding up fast. and that was good because within minutes of my arrival i heard it; the sound of the approaching train.
i wouldn’t be able to see it until it was somewhere between a quarter and a half mile out, rounding the bend and coming out from the cover of the trees. i tossed my pack into the ditch next to the train as it came around the corner, laying down to place my next on the steel of the rail. smooth and cold, i jerk a little as my skin contacts the track. i can feel the train now too. the conductor is already blaring his horn, i’m fairly certain he saw me lay on the track. the breaks are screeching now. i haven’t been able to see the face of the conductor since my head hit the track; i assume he has lost sight of me too. the train is close now, maybe 10 seconds out. i jump to my feet and flip the train off, shouting fuck you. there is a cattle guard on the bottom of the train; if it didn’t kill me pushing me aside at a high speed, it would surely leave me a vegetable.
i grabbed my bag after a few quick thrusts of my middle finger and darted off deeper into the forest. the train continues to screech to a stop for another minute it seems; i’m far enough into the forest and up a hill that no one would easily spot me in the dense foliage, watching as the train comes to a final stop. the sour of the whiskey stings, but i hardly notice in my rush. charged with adrenaline and still desperately seeking an end, i pace around the forest, never straying more than a mile from the tracks. at some point i dropped my phone or threw it into the woods because i start to frantically look for the phone to dial for help. waves of guilt and conviction and hatred and anger and sadness and loneliness wash over me as fast as a breeze and i eventually crash into a seated position out of exhaustion.
with some local police checking the area around the tracks, but not venturing into the woods, i’m safe where i am for the time but before the sun sets i’ve decided i need to move on and out. the train has resumed its course and moved on some 4 or 6 hours after i stopped it. the police appear to be gone too. a second train, this one carrying people, comes down the track shortly after the first left. i walk a hiking path that parallels the tracks, observing the faces in the window, wondering if any of them are asking ‘is that homeless guy the one who stopped the trains?’ a local neighborhood road takes me farther away from the train through some quiet neighborhood with big, woodland lots. when i finally reach a main road that connects to the highways, i press on into the setting sun. i think i got maybe 20 minutes into my road-side hike when i saw the roof-mounted lights in the distance. i paid the police no attention as they passed me but i could hear their cruiser slow, and turn once it has passed behind me. a few seconds went by without anything happening, just me pressing on. then i saw the blue and red light reflecting off the day-lit surfaces of my surroundings. the car pulls up a few feet behind me and the door opens.
the police office says something to the effect of ‘stop, i want to talk to you.’ i’m a wreck right now and this is only adding to the anxiety. i turn around but continue to walk backwards trying to tell the officer i don’t want to stop. he keeps coming closer and asking me to stop and i keep telling him i don’t want to stop and i just want to keep going. he gets real close to me and i try to tell him not too touch me but it’s too late and his hands are already grabbing my arm, he’s using his weight to throw me to the ground in the ditch next to the road. he tries to blame me but the only reason he is dirty is because he acted the way he did; i didn’t resist him once he had grabbed me, i just didn’t want him to touch me. i still hope that fucker gets punched in the balls for that. and he stole my jacket. fuck you. you’re why i hate humanity. piece of shit.
anyway, at this point it’s all over. i’m going to a hospital where they keep me on watch for like 6 hours and draw blood and do all these tests before sending me off to some hospital 3 hours away in the middle of the night in shackles. i spent two weeks there. the judge came in and said he was keeping me on some legal hold thing and that i wasn’t mentally competent and that this would affect my legal rights in the future. i didn’t care. i was so out of it. the first 5 or 6 days i was there i never left the bed, hardly moved, slept mostly, and only ever thought about the image of my head being mashed under the wheel of a train. about how clean the cut would be if i let the wheel sever my neck. eventually i got out of bed and had a change of heart; after several days suck in a hospital i wanted to be free and that caused me plenty of anxiety too.
i ended up moving back to Colorado with family. i’ve been here almost a year now. i got my job a few months after i showed up in Colorado. i will celebrate 1 year of employment at the end of May when I celebrate my birthday.
i’m still hopeless, alone, lonely, sad, bored, afraid, scared, loathsome, depressed, angry, mad, disgusted, and many other words that describe my well-being. i am trying to look for a place to move into now, but i’m only half-heartedly looking. i know how much more alone i will be once i move out. life will get worse. there’s no doubt in my mind. going home to nothing every night sucks. i’m not the kind of person to hang out at bars until the odd hours of the morning and being interested in people of the same sex makes that even harder. i work with people who are nice, but it’s a high-stress work environment and i can’t count these people as friends. even my boss was quick to tell me not to trust anyone after i got hired.
so here i sit on my ass in the guest bedroom of my parents place. my nieces toys are piled up against one of the walls in here; this is not my place. not even my bed, to be honest. my bed is leaning against a wall in the basement with a few other things i will take when i leave. i don’t even own a dresser; my clothes are in produce boxes on the floor or in the basement.
who really cares though? if i stopped coming into work tomorrow that would mean the second shift would actually have work to do and the nigh shift would probably end up picking up residual slack, but it wouldn’t matter. if i stopped showing up at my parents place every night, they’d save money, have less to worry about, and have their place to themselves (and yes, they do not enjoy me being in their space). i never hear from my brothers unless they come over here so i’m sure they’ll hardly notice. i don’t have any friends that ever call me for anything. at all. ever. my phone doesn’t ring unless its a bill collector or a wrong number. period. these are facts. the people i play games with online wouldn’t care; i haven’t been active on Steam or in our TeamSpeak since Octoberish and before that I hardly talked to them anyway. point being who cares nobody.
i want to end this soo bad sometimes.
i started smoking pot again. last august i stopped taking the meds. in november came the pot. immediately i launched into heavy use again. quarters of weed gone in a week (that’s a lot of smoking around working and the rest of your life). it’s been like that since. i put my pipe in the trash can by the curb as i headed into work this morning. i’m sure part of the reason i feel bad and want to die right now is related to the fact that i’m not high or getting high like i usually do at this time. but i’m also sick of it all, i don’t care, it’s not fair, i’m smart, i work hard, i do right by others, i have nothing to show for it and my actions go unnoticed and under-appreciated. it’s hard to stay motivated about living this kind of life, i hope you can understand (but ultimately don’t give two fucks weather or not you do in fact get it).
i honestly don’t know how much longer i will last. i’ve thought about getting a taxi cab into the middle of nowhere and then hiking away from everything so i can shoot myself or something effective like that. i may just wait until i get moved into an apartment so i can do it away from family. at the very least i don’t want *ANYONE* from my family finding out that i’m dead. in fact it’s imperative they don’t. my disappearance should go down in the books as unsolved. i don’t want a marker. i could care less about cremation. i want to return my body to the earth and let my consciousness die into non-existence. i want to be away from it all, from them all, you all. i want to be alone when the bullet shatters bone and scrambles the squishy pink innards of my skull.
maybe i should go back on the meds. that’d be just a mess. can’t do it until i’m out of this place though because it would just cause mom and dad more trouble. ahh fuck this all. fuck the meds. don’t even care about finding a place to call my own most of the time. i want to be that skeleton in the forest around mt. fuji; dead for a long time, alone, and at peace.
i’ll go to work tomorrow. and maybe i’ll find my way to the greyhound and get a ticket to san francisco so i can plunge myself off a bridge with a beautiful view.
I’m 28 years old and my life is a complete waste. I am the youngest of six children, there’s a seven year gap between me and the rest, the eldest of my siblings being sixteen years older than I am. (just giving you the background here).
Life in my family was never easy, we were considered free labor, we cleaned the house, cooked the meals, did the laundry, kept the yard did the shopping and washed my dad’s collection of cars. These chores started as young as five years of age, we’d walk two miles to the nearest supermarket, and then carry the groceries home, this was generally a whole week’s worth of groceries for the entire family. But that’s not what’s getting me down now, my dad died when I was 7, and everything went to hell very quickly, my mother who had always behaved in an unpredictable manner dialed it up to an 11.
After my dad died, the eldest three siblings left the house, and not long after my other sister also left, the remaining sister worked double shifts (probably to avoid being around our mom) She left the house at 7am and got back at 2am and then slept, so she may as well have not lived there. Since I was only seven at the time, I had no choice, I was stuck there, and because of that I became my mother’s punching bag, I’d get beaten as often as five times a day, with anything she could reach, I was verbally abused, I was never called on my name, it was always “brat” or “bastard” or something along those lines.
I’ve never approached anyone about it, because I was too scared, and the times that someone did get suspicious my mom would smooth talk it away, telling people that I have “behavioral problems” or that I’m just very withdrawn, the bruises would be attributed to playground injuries, and when the bruises raised too many eyebrows my mom resorted to using a wet towel, it hurts like a whip, but leaves no real marks, and so it went on throughout my childhood.
During my teens the abuse escalated to the point where any medical condition would be ignored to the point where I’d have to be hospitalized when I was finally admitted. My eldest sister, as well as my eldest brother left the country, and cut off all communication with the family, this was followed by my second eldest brother also cutting off communication with the family, the two remaining sisters stayed at home for a short while, and became aware of the living circumstances that I had to deal with (my mother is a hoarder, and at that stage had reduced the inside of the house to such a state that no one was allowed inside, just me and my sisters) this raised a lot of questions at school, as to why teacher’s couldn’t come over for a parent teacher visit, or why friends couldn’t visit or sleep over, as a by product I ended up having no friends in my later years, because they couldn’t visit the house, and due to the condition the house was in I had a “moldy” smell all the time.
After two years (I was about 14 at the time) my other sister left the country as well, leaving me and my other sister alone at home, she had continued to work around the clock, and thus never really paid any attention to what was going on in the house. Eventually she was diagnosed with high blood pressure, diabetes, and was forced to work less hours.
I apologize for the long post, as I am only getting around to the gist of the story now.
I am 28 years old, single and unemployed. I had been engaged once, but after several months of emotional blackmail I broke it off with my fiance, because my mother had threatened suicide if I were to move out. I had been unemployed for nearly two years now, and can’t find another job because I had given up on college because, once again, my mother threatened suicide if I left, I am stuck working jobs that pay below minimum wage, and I don’t see a future for myself.
Whenever I do get a job opportunity, which happens to fall outside of walking distance from the house my mom does everything in her power to make sure that I either get fired, or get guilted out of taking the job. She’s never done this with any of my older siblings, and they were never threatened with her suicide if they wanted to leave, yet I constantly feel like I have a leash around my neck, because I am not allowed to do anything.
My unemployment and lack of a relationship is also used as regular ammunition against me, I am constantly told that I am useless, lazy and have no motivation, and that no one would ever want to hire me, and that she takes care of me, and without her I’d be nothing and living on the streets. I am also constantly reminded that no one in their right mind would ever love me, and that my fiance left me because I was such a disappointment (I was told to break it off, by my mother, but that doesn’t matter).
This all came to a head this morning, for the first time in nearly eighteen months I had landed an interview at a large company, I had the opportunity to get a decent job, but being unemployed for as long as I’ve been I didn’t have any money, the interview was in the next town, 7miles away, I had asked around for a lift to the interview, but no one was able to help me out, so I decided that I’d take a bus and walk the extra mile from the bus stop to the interview, I had discussed it with my mom on friday, this whole weekend she was fine with it, we even went to go visit her sister (where I was instructed to lie, telling them I have a great job, and that I’m seeing someone). Then this morning, half an hour before I had to leave for the interview she tells me that she won’t pay the bus fare. Naturally I could have attempted to walk the seven miles, but I wouldn’t have made it on time, I’d probably have been late, I’ve never walked further than five miles, I don’t know how long it would take me.
I asked my sister, but being the time of month that is was (and my sister pays for all the groceries, and any other expenses as my mom refuses to pay anything, because we live in her house, even though she won’t let us leave) she didn’t have any money. So now, here I sit, the first interview in nearly two years, and I couldn’t make it because my mother wouldn’t let me. I am trapped, I have no idea, or means to get out, and the only option that makes sense now is suicide.
I don’t want to be talked out of it, I don’t see a light at the end of the tunnel, because my life has been reduced to the point where either she dies or I do before any of this will change.
So now I need advice, decent advice:
I want to know how I can commit suicide in a clean manner, that is relatively painless, without any nasty side effects (such as nausea and cramps).
Any feedback will be welcome as soon as possible, I greatly appreciate it.
PS: Please don’t try to talk me out of it, and don’t tell me that I should consider councelling, I have been through three psychiatrists and two therapists in the past eight years (which my sister pays for, without my mom knowing) none of them could help me, and none of them have been able to give me any decent advice on getting out of my current situation, one actually felt sympathy with my mother. The most advice I had gotten out of my psychiatrist was to get a job, move out, and try to lead my life as normal. Obviously I am struggling to just get to square one, because I have no friends in my immediate area (one of them is working in Japan, and the other in Canada) and we have no family left in this country, except my sister, and she’s completely incapable of helping me. So no, I don’t need to seek “help” from a professional, because so far they have been useless, and I don’t/can’t talk to anyone else about it because there isn’t anyone.
I have done several searches online for techniques and everywhere I go people are so hell bent on saving my life, this isn’t helpful, because I am only being forced into doing something that I really don’t want to do anymore, and that’s live.
I can’t get a hold of any “hard” drugs, so don’t tell me about some medication that doctors might prescribe on a rare occasion, and I don’t know any dealers. I can’t get a hold of a gun, or a rope or any of those things, and no… I don’t have a car, there is no car, and I don’t plan of suffocating myself in a stranger’s garage.
So: I need something that’s quick, clean, easy to get a hold of, and most importantly as painless and easy as possible.
I’m really not seeing a reason to continue fighting my debilitating depression and anxiety. I have never had a reprieve in my 28 years, despite various medications, spiritual journeys, and self-help literature.
I have always held myself to a very high standard and have been relentless with trying to reach success from a very early age. I survived an abusive childhood with an alcoholic father. Â I thought that getting married, getting a Masters degree, and starting my career would bring me the happiness I so desperately want and the outside validation to prove that I am a good person.
I loved my husband with all of my heart, but made bad choices because of my self-loathing and incredibly low self-esteem. I hid my bulimia, spending habits, substance use, and even reaching out to an old ex-boyfriend from him. He eventually found out about all of these things, and it crushed him. He did try and stay by my side for a little while, but one person can only weather so much. I will never be able to forgive myself for what I did to someone who really did love me. All I’ve ever wanted is love and security, and I got it, and I sabotaged it. I will never have that again because I am truly a bad person with some serious problems. He is divorcing me.
Now, I am alone, with a ridiculous amount of debt that I will never be able to pay off. Literal money debt, and also debt to all the people who ever loved me, especially my husband. I have no dreams or hopes for the future. I chased what I thought were my dreams–a husband, an advanced degree–and I am still at a loss. I have nothing else. I have a career, but I am miserable, I live in the middle of nowhere and am getting older every day. Here, my chance of finding someone who loved me like my husband is slim to none.
I can’t get myself to clean my house, exercise, and work is quite a struggle. I truly feel I have suffered enough and all I see is more suffering in my future. I think if my family and close friends knew the pain I was feeling, they would be appalled and terrified. I am appalled and terrified, and have no clue how to live a satisfying, least of all content, life. And I have just dug myself quite a hole with no energy to get out of it.
Is it really selfish to kill oneself because you’ve had a lifetime of misery? Why is it ok to force someone to withstand many numerous years of unending misery to save a few people a few days or weeks of pain? I am a suicide survivor myself. I was 15 when my mother took her own life, and yes, I have remained angry with her for the last 13 years, but that was different. She had a 15 year old child and a 6 year old child she was responsible for. I have no children whatsoever, and don’t intend to have any. I recently tried to save someone special. An ex, whom I am still in love with, and I showed her PROOF that her current S/O is not only cheating on her but also USING her and she doesn’t seem to care. So I was sure I wanted to just say goodbye, but as soon as I did I couldn’t take the pain. I sliced up my arm pretty bad and couldn’t stop crying. I am NOT a liar and she knows it, but nobody wants to believe my truth. I recently came into possession of my mother’s belongings, and happened to have the.note she left. And honestly, I feel EXACTLY the same. I am so tired of messing up everything I do. Everyone I come into contact with’s lives. I am 28 years old and have NEVER been able to do anything right. I think it would be me doing everyone a favor if I just ended it now. Hell my so called friends who claim to care don’t even have time to be there for me when I need them. I think I need to just do everyone a favor and exit. Stage right. Everyone thinks it is selfish. I think it is a favor.
I am 28 years old still living with my parents and I am ready to give up. In fact giving up is something I have become good at over the years. I now have no money and thousands of dollars in debt (never finished college) oh and by the way my mother is an alcoholic and my father has cancer.Our home is also infested with bedbugs and we have 4 dogs that all they do is bark and go to the bathroom all over the house. I have never had my own car I did move our briefly when I was 23 but that didn’t last long. I feel like a failure. The only thing I have going for me is a loving girlfriend but she is thousands of miles away. I quit my old job for a job I thought was better but now I am not so sure. All I want to do is sleep until I don’t wake up. I just keep making all the wrong choices. I just want this pain to stop. I need something good to happen in my life. If anyone out there has ever gone thru something like this I really could use the support. I don’t want to kill myself but the mountain before me seems to tall. I really do want to be happy and on my own but it feels impossible. Maybe when I was in my earlier 20’s but now I feel my opportunity has passed and my end will come soon.
“I sit here contemplating my life, I wonder what it has become. I raised four beautiful children on my own who in turn have given me two beautiful grandchildren.” Now why would someone who has that want to commit suicide?
Lets take a deeper look into the life of this young woman who seems to have it all: She’s a single mother who’s children have grown and started their own live’s in other cities, even in other states. She hears from them maybe once a week if not longer unless they need something. They know she’ll always be there. A woman who finds herself alone and empty.
Now this woman does have a boyfriend, she’s no old hag. But the relationship with her man seems strained. He tells her she’s going through menopause as she is moody to all get out. And today she found out he bought his roommates daughter a dozen yellow roses and a Mother’s Day card from her son teaching him a tradition his father did with him for his own mother. The woman admires the man’s incentive and honor, but becomes a little more depressed as she never was on the receiving end of something as wonderful as that. He tells her if you had one of my children I’d do the same for you. (the little boy isn’t his) Now don’t get her wrong, her children when they were little would make homemade cards which she still has today. It’s just, what would it be like for the man in her life to buy her flowers in support of her just being a mother? But one of her children did send her flowers and a wonderful note. It had been years since she had received any thing like that.
Add to this, the woman lost the one and only person who cherished her, kept her and fought for her. The only one who rocked her in their arms not long before they died… her own mother. It had been 28 years before that,that she would spend the last Mother’s Day with her own mother. There had not been any one to protect her over the last 28 years and time had taken it’s toll on her. Two divorces, a marriage of convienice, and many men saying they loved her later all to end up being cheaters and or beaters, she had about enough. Working 2 jobs 7 days a week, she was at a loss. Seeing those around her with someone they could turn to while she had no one. Not one who would understand. People saying we love you but just not there for her.
At home it was just her and her cat. Time for her to think on what she had had and what she had lost. Working in pain everyday from a muscle disease that leaves her crippled at times, vision that is going fast fighting everyday to see to perform her job. Wondering month to month if she’ll have some place to live, wondering day to day if she’ll be able to afford to eat. Worried if she’ll have a job each day. Fed up with society so fixed on outer beauty while turning a nose up at those who seem lower than themselves.
So on this Mother’s Day eve, I sit here as that woman, wondering what good am I in this life. Being so messed up in the brain from a life time of abuse, not seeing anyway out. Feeling like thrown out trash destined for someplace worse off than the curb. Doing for everyone, sacrificing myself and sanity to make sure they are taken care of.
Do know to those that know me, I love you, really I do. I’m sorry.
I’m 28 years old. Â I’ve been what I’d call a depressive since I was probably 14. Â I tried to kill myself when I was 16 by overdosing on my anti-depressants. Â I haven’t tried since, mainly because I saw what the first attempt did to my parents. Â I was very fortunate in my parents; they’re loving and supportive, and I probably wouldn’t be writing this if it wasn’t for them. Â I swore on my Grandmother’s grave that I would never try again. Â That vow has also helped stopped me. Â But it’s losing its effectiveness. Â I don’t see the point anymore. Â Why should I go through life in misery just so I don’t hurt them? Â I know it sound selfish, but there are times I resent them for it. Â There are many times I wish I would get a terminal disease or get hit by a bus so I could die Â guilt-free. Â There are only two times since becoming a teenager that I was actually “happy.” Â Both were when I was seeing two – not simultaneously – Â of my ex-girlfriends. Â (I’ve only had four, all of them dumped me). Â None of them lasted longer than two months. Â They both ended it because of me. Â I’m afraid I’ll never have a lasting, loving relationship. Â That it will always turn to crap. Â Worse, I work with one of those two exes, and a lot of the time just being around her is painful. Â It’s becoming so depressing that I’m thinking of quitting because of it. Â I know people say “it gets better,” and for some people that may be true. Â But it’s mostly just an empty platitude. Â How long do I have to wait? till I’m 40? 60? Â I’ve been happy in my adult life a sum total of about 4 months. Â I think about killing myself often. Â usually with an overdose of sleeping pills. Â If I killed myself, would some people be sad? sure. Â But they’d get over it. Â Like they get over someone close who died due to an accident or illness. Â Sometimes I wish I could fake my own death and find out who actually cared, and who just pretended to.
Iâ€™m 58 years old, working in Iraq so my wife could spend time with her sister and our nephew who died of brain cancer 1-Nov-11. I came here for her, for my family and stayed though I hated being away from my home and family, I stayed because they were proud of me.
Up until coming here in May-2011, the longest Iâ€™ve been separated from my wife was three weeks while she visited our son in Japan. She has wanted to go to Japan for as long as Iâ€™ve known her and when our granddaughter was born there, my son was in the Air Force, it was something I felt I could do. Make her dream come true so to say. For me, it seemed to be the longest three weeks of my life.
I was laid off Jan-2011 from a job I held for 28 years. A job I hated and that was draining me of life. I had fought an illness for as long as I can remember and have tried a number of times to take my life over the years. I tried twice to die to protect my family from my illness even though they think it was only a cry for help. I know the truth and there was no cry for help those days. I chickened out my first time, but they donâ€™t realize, I called no one my second time. I intended to simply die.
After my last attempt, an overdose of Valium that I didnâ€™t realize wasnâ€™t lethal, I finally felt that I had my illness under control and was beginning to live my life, just enjoying my wife and family. We have two grandchildren now and I love them with all my heart. I found something worth living for and could only thank God that I was still alive.
Something I did while ill almost four years ago came to light. My wife now wants a divorce and my children canâ€™t even tell me they love me anymore. Iâ€™ve put them through so much, but finally got better and now God seems to have taken them from me. There is nothing left to live for anymore. Nothing. Just this pain.
I am the type of person who needs to feel loved and have someone to love. I prayed to God and do believe in Him, but I need an earthly type of love to heal from the pain Iâ€™m in now. I have given all I can to my family and now they have turned their backs on me when I need them the most.
Here I am, putting my life in harms way, just so they can have the things in life they want. My wife, all she is concerned with now is the money we have saved. Our house that is paid for and she wants that as well. I felt she only looks at me now as something to take from, not the person who has given so much. She feels like she deserves it I guess. Maybe for putting up with me for so long. Who knows, I donâ€™t think she ever really loved me now just that she stayed for the money or that she felt she could do no better.
Since returning to Iraq, I found God and was amazed at how He changed my life. What I donâ€™t understand is why He seems to have left.
I really donâ€™t know what awaits me when I return. Iâ€™m guilty of the thing Iâ€™m charged with, but know that it wasnâ€™t this mind. I tried many times during my years in therapy, to try to explain this to them. Even now I try, but no one wants to listen. I am dead to them now. Maybe even to myself.
There really isnâ€™t anything I want to live for. I keep asking God to give me a reason to go on, show me something maybe. You see, He has shown me little things. Things you may write off as coincidence, but not when they have happened so many times over the years. It just doesnâ€™t add up, you know?
But Iâ€™m bound by so many things. My vows to my wife, promises Iâ€™ve made, my belief in God. All this leaves me with too much to understand and no answers. I canâ€™t talk with anyone anymore. If I mention the word suicide, everyone goes crazy and wants to lock me up. So I just say nothing, and get no real help because of it.
Iâ€™m not writing for advice or help, and to be honest Iâ€™m just writing to fill the time here until I leave. I have made no decisions as to what Iâ€™m going to do when I return, only that my life for me is over. All I need to do now is close my eyes for the last time and simply go to sleep. I wish so much for that, just to go to sleep and never wake up. I would try drugs, but Iâ€™ve been down that road and only woke up in another hospital.
I would rather be homeless and alone than spend another day in one of those places. Maybe they are good for some, but not for me. That part of my personality that I hate so much is the only thing that shows up, so I can never really get the help I needed there. I finally got that help, and I found it in myself. I began to devote my life to my wife, to truly devote myself to her happiness, but now she is gone. Iâ€™m dead in my childrenâ€™s eyes so nothing there either.
So again, Iâ€™m not sure why Iâ€™m writing here. Maybe looking for someone, or some words, but I donâ€™t thinks words are enough to live for anymore. Words without people just are empty to me. I need someone in my life, of that Iâ€™m sure, but who? Where am I to find that now? Iâ€™m married and swore to forsake all others till death due us part. I swore this to my wife and before God in church, so that leaves me little hope of ever obtaining true happiness.
I’m glad there is a forum like this that I can relate to. I have a wife and 3 kids and I am 30 years old. I’ve been thinking of suicide for years now and over the past few months have gotten past this weird barrier that I had before. I was so cautious and scared to kill myself before and now I feel like nothing is stopping me. Sort of like a green light. Now I don’t obsess about it as I used to and have moved onto phase 2 in finding the right way to do it. One thing I learned is that I will probably leave town before I do it. I had a parrot for 28 years and couldn’t take care of him anymore so a lady I knew who lived far away came and picked him up to take care of him. He was at the end of his life and I knew this. He died about a month later and it didn’t seem to affect me like I thought it would. I think this was due to him being gone already.
I feel like it would be easier on the kids and wife if they already said bye to me and then I just didn’t come home. Just like many of you I have that hopeless “I’m not worth anything” mindset and I can’t do anything about it. But I’m also on the other side of the fence because I am a born again Christian and believe that although suicide is a sin, all sins are forgiven through Jesus Christ.
What’s stopping me from doing it is a whole slurry of other things that would happen to complicate my family’s lives. I feel like I need to control how everything goes down, even the funeral and arrangements. I’m worried that my life insurance won’t pay my family since it would be a suicide and I’m afraid to even ask them about this in fear they would drop me and my insurance.
Is there anyone inÂ Iowa that would like to talk to me in person? I feel like the best thing for me now is to talk to a stranger and not family/friends. Thanks for listening, fisherminisher
Well it’s been an interesting time in my life. I’ve spent almost 2 months of it in a mental hospital separated with a girlfriend of almost 3 years, mother of my third son who will be 2 tomorrow. Â Started a relationship with another woman who I have to say, I love dearly. Â I just don’t know what to do with myself anymore. I can’t bring myself to live a ‘normal’ life where I am a responsible adult and 9-5 and family one weekends. I left out in disability in December of last year about 3 months after FINALLY seeing a psychiatrist and being diagnosed with Bipolar disorder. It was my youngst’s mother that basically forced me to do something about my mood swings and random personality changes, things I just delt with for as long as I could remember.
My family doc started me on citalopram and the psych moved me to Zoloft and lamatical. Things never felt any better and I began to feel progressively worse about things because I TOOK that step, I got help, just like all the directions tell you to. Â I’ve had more then enough stress too throw on top of all that as well… I lost my car to repo because of the price of everything skyrocketing, next I barley made enough to feed my son, keep a roof over his head and pay the support for my other 2 boys. I lost our apartment, which was a fucking hole in the wall disaster anyway but it was HOME. Never could get anywhere with the landlord because he was my brother and he too wanted the money to pay HIS bills. I had to suck it up and move back home with my step-mom. First time in 28 years I actually asked for help from my parents.
I never wanted anything from anyone. I always thought I was raised to be self sufficient. If I couldn’t achieve Â for myself, I was a failure and that was of course not an option. I asked for a place to stay. I didn’t want it to be more then 3 months at first, but; all the plans for a new apartment fell through and I had no other options. Â Once everything finally hit me I was as low as I could be. I was that failure. Things began to suffer at work and I was placed on disability to save my job.
Now I had nothing. My son went to school with his mother and I took to sleeping 20 hours a day and waking like I needed a good long nap. We started to send my boy to school part time to try and save us some money in daycare expenses and to give me more time with him. It was even more of a disaster. I could barley stay awake with him most of the time. Most of the time I could only dwell on when was he going to take his nap so I could get more sleep and when was his mother going to get home to take over.
My step-mom basically became annoyed that I was so lazy. It was very clear to her I was just abusing her and something must be done. Â One day when my son was at school I woke with the feeling that I didn’t want to be alone. VERY VERY out of character for me. She took that as a ‘cry for help’. Call your doctor and ask if they might prescribe you something to help you with your anxiety. I thought it was pointless but, because she asked, I did. Â My family doc said I should just go to the ER and let them deal with it so I passed that info to her. “Get your shoes,” she said, “I’m taking you to the hospital.” What bullshit.
We got there and I didn’t even know what to tell them why I was there. “He’s very depressed and needs psychiatric attention,” says my mom. Let me tell you, I never got into a room and seen so fast. Of first note I had started self injuring, burning my left arm with cigarettes. That was an obvious red flag for hospital staff. I never knew how many doctors the hospital had in the ER until the 5, yeah, 5 came in to each check my burns for infection and other signs of physical injuries. Then came the social worker. After that twenty minute interview she brought my mom back into the room.
“So where would you like to go?” “What?”, I said. “Well, in your current condition, the hospital feels it would be best if you got some treatment for your depression.” “Oh! I’m fucking crazy and you are telling me that if I don’t ‘allow’ you to find me help, you’re going to ‘get’ me help. Is that what you’re saying?” “Not like that but…” I didn’t even bother to listen to the rest. I knew I was off to the nut hut. I was playing nice so at least they would try to put me where I wanted to go rather then any old place. So I chose the hospital I had heard of since I was a young child, it was the closest to home and WAY better then the state hospital.
Aside from burning with a cigarette, I had actually done a good job of quitting smoking at the time but I made my step-mom go and buy me smokes. I had no idea what to expect and I wasn’t going in totally unprepared.
Well again, two months, a total of 3 hospital stays later, I was out. Now my relationship with my son’s mother was strained beyond repair, my step-mom actually mailed a note to the both of us a day before I went in to the hospital the second time telling us we had used up her hospitality and it was time for some ‘tough love’ and we needed to go. Â I was still fighting with my insurance company to pay me some of my short term disability and now I’m being kicked out.
Fuck, I’m just rambling on.
right now, right fucking now I don’t know what to do. I need to see a doc but I can’t afford it because I never got the STD money, my ex got the money in the bank and used it for her and my son to get an apartment. I have been living with my new lady, and she has been very generous which is also killing me inside. I applied fior medical assistance, and found when I was forced to apply for food stamps that the application was ‘misfiled’ so nothing had happened with it in over a month. I got shit from my insurance company that they will not do anything about my long term disability because I need to have doctors fill out the paperwork, which again no money- no doctors. I applied for Social Security and again the doctor pitfall. Now the courts want my ass in jail because I haven’t been paying my child support. My God daughter’s birthday is next Sunday and I had to tell her father that I will be there if I haven’t been hauled off to jail. The court also needs me to see a doctor to fill out paperwork saying I’m disabled. It’s not enough I haven’t been working and have been playing the paperwork game. DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO FOCUS ON PAPERWORK!?! THIS IS WHY I WAS GETTING SHIT AT WORK, MY FOCUS WAS OFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I haven’t been able to see any of my boys in over 6 weeks and I’m STILL FAILING AT EVERYTHING TO TRY AND CHANGE IT! Â OH and btw, because I still have private insurance through work, I was told that getting medical assistance is more then likely not going to happen.
Here is the final problem. I WANT to be dead and gone. My last wishes have all been well explained. There’s no need for a will because whatever money there is would go to pay off my debts. Â I’m a burden alive, and a burden dead. HA. My kids are all young enough that their mother’s could find a father figure for them and that would be ok. My girlfriend would be fucked up but she too would be able to move on and keep her focus on her life. Everyone wants to say 29 is young, good then they should all have plenty of time to move on. I don’t need to be here to fuck anything else up. If I were to die the boys would get social security and there would be one less crazy person burdening the system. I’m sure you American tax payers don’t want to take care of me.
Problem is, WHY CAN’T I JUST FUCKING DO IT!?! I’ve attempted it twice before, obvious failures. I tried to hang myself with my school neck tie, fucking thing ripped, and sleeping pills, just slept for 4 days.
I lost my driver’s license because I was just going to drive off the highway into trees and now I think I’d just walk a few blocks and play in traffic on the highway.
WHY CAN’T I JUST DO IT??? I want to go back to a hospital but I don’t everything is just fucked. FUCK. This was supposed to make me feel better, writing it all out but no. I’ve managed to burn myself again and just get more pissed. WHO WANTS TO HELP
Happy birthday Max. I love you and miss you soo much.
This is a vent or rant. I believed life would be fair. I watched tv and it rotted my brain.
I thought one day I would meet a special guy. I met one that I thought was special 9 years ago.Â He really made me forget about the guy I had a crush on for few years. This man was my first boyfriend at 28 years old. You can believe I thought I would have met a guy that actually was attracted to me before then, but that did not happen. Now I question what if any feelings the guy I met back then had for me back then. So today I struggle to continue to live. My dream of loving and being loved has not happened.Â This is my luxury. I’m not struggling for food and shelter or safe drinkable water. I’m suffering from loneliness.Â I can’t believe that if I was starving I would be thinking about wanting a guy to like me. Yet that is my starvation of an unfulfilled dream. I also know be careful what you wish for because it might come true.Â Living in the grey area sucks.Â I hate that I’m trapped in a body that is unattractive or not easy on the eyes.Â You see the statistics are out there. The odds are that I will not meet a special guy. Black american women are not seen as attractive and if I dated within my own race the guys are in jail.Â I grew up in a place where the only black kids in school were me, myself and I and sometimes my brother.Â Anyways,Â why can’t I be happy that for now I have my health? that I’ve lived and traveled abroad? I know that most of the poor in the U.S. do not know real poverty as I’ve seen it in other places in the world. Yet, still I’m thinking about purchasing some charcoal and ending my life because as someone mentioned that I’m just a waste of space.Â I have ancestors that survived slavery yet I’m thinking about ending it all because guys don’t find me attractive when frankly who would if I’m thinking about cashing in my chips/kicking the bucket/ whatever phrase you want to put in that sounds a bit better that suicide.Â Â When I was at the mall shopping last year a black couple (teens) walked by me and the guy said “fugly” while pretending to sneeze.Â I’m weary. Whatever so called coping resources I had are vanishing.Â I sent a message to jo and no one answered my question. If youÂ believe you’ve done everything you’ve wanted to do in your life, yet being loved is something out of my control and the writing is on the wall that it probably won’t happen why continue to live? I used to tell myself killing myself isnt worth it because anything can happen. That phrase no longer holds water for me. I’m glad I stuck around for as long as I did, but that was because I had other things I really wanted to do.Â The Future no longer seems interesting to check out. Being lonely, watching my parents get old I don’t know how I’ll be able to handle that.Â I’m already worried my father will have Alzheimer’s like my grandmother. This is my vent. I know some part of me wants to stick around but the voice isÂ so faint and weak.
I have always been a VERY strong person. I am the one people would come to for advice and for strength but lately I find myself completely without strength and it also feels like no one I have ever been there for is there for me now. I have rheumatoid arthritis and I’m 28 years old. I was born with the disease and my whole childhood was destroyed by the illness. I never had a normal life. So I grew up knowing how to deal with pain and suffering. However, I went into complete remission when I was 18 and my life became wonderful. I did everything I never could do before. I had a great career in radio as a reporter and writer, the things I always wanted to do. Then when I was 25, around my birthday the rheumatoid arthritis came back. At first I was in denial but pretty soon I had to accept it. I had to quit my career because working in media requires the ability to be mobile and full of energy. Rheumatoid Arthritis takes away your mobility as well as your energy. Now I am 28 and I feel like my life is just completely over. Every dream, every want, every thing I have said I’d do in life is now impossible. I have to live on my Social Security and I can barely even work part time. I’ve been trying to find part time work to help with the complete lack of anything going on in my life but I have not found one yet. I just sit at home all day, everyday, except to go to the grocery store and while I sit I am in pain. I am in terrible pin when I first wake up. It’s the worst when I wake up. I take narcotic pain killers that are legally prescribed to me but those also present a problem…they wear off and I feel worse than before. But without the pills I cant walk at all. But even with the pills I’m not as mobile as a normal person. And I still have pain. My doc said the pain can only be expected to be 40% less than what it would be without the pain killers. 40% is better than nothing but it’s not complete. I am still in awful pain everyday, every minute – every second that I’m alive. MY existence is shit and there is NOTHING anyone can do. I don’t respond to the medications they have for the illness so I’m left taking naproxsen and oxycodone. I can feel my bones wasting away. The really crappy part is that NO ONE knows what I am going through. People pretend they understand but no one can really get what it is like to be in chronic pain every second of every day. They don’t understand how it can affect a persons well being. I am not myself, I find no joy in anything. Songs I used to love mean nothingÂ to me now. I find no happiness anywhere. The only person that I know cares about me is my husband and he works very hard to give us a good life but I know even he is frustrated that I can’t do more. He would never say it but I know normal people don’t understand what I’m going through and they don’t seem to get why I can’t just “be happy” or just “live with it”. It’s incredibly hard to ignore terrible pain.
Today I woke up and I really wanted to die. I just wanted to lay down and give up. From what I’ve read if you are like me, born with this disease, and it comes back later in life, you will never get rid of it again. So where does that leave me but with a crappy life where I’m constantly in pain and then I die. It seems so empty and so pointless. We own a gun,Â I could just shoot myself….I just keep trying to live “day by day” as my therapist always reminds me to do, but it is so hard at times there are just some mornings I wake up and I just want myÂ life to end. There is no happiness to look forward to anyway, my condition will never change. The US govt’ is so wrapped up in religion that they are not letting science progress as it should so I can’t get a cure for this disease, so in my lifetime I will never be cured. I”ll be a cripple with awful pain my entire life. I know husband is going to want to have kids soon…how can I carry a child, i can barely walk as I am now. I hate myself and I want to die. I mean this type of existence is pointless. I will not get better – I will just get worse…it’s proven science…and I don’t have enough money or insurance for knee replacements so I will be so bad off I will be wheelchair bound soon enough. It’s all down hill from here. Whats the point in living.