I was watching T.V and a commercial for anti-depressants came on…..It said how it could help you…blah, blah, blah but then something made me think; the blatant irony ….” side affects may include nausea, vomiting or the increase of suicidal thoughts in children, young adults and adults”….Sooo this medicine has a risk to make people more suicidal than they are now….. but its supposed to work against depression? Its not guaranteed to work but it has a risk to fuck you up in the head even more? On what planet does this make sense? Hell, they might as well give you a gun with a single bullet and play Russian roulette
Ever since I can remember I have never been happy, I have always plastered on a smile to easy other peoples minds, to make it seem like I’m not bothered by my small wasted life. I’m drained, for years I have been fighting off suicidal thoughts but now it’s getting to hard, I don’t want to die, it will fuck up my family and friends but at the same time I can’t hold on for much longer, nothing I do helps, I go to every doctor to get anti depressantsÂ I’m scared of doing it, I’m scared of not doing it and living I’m scared and anxious and I don’t know how to fix it they work for a bit then I’m back to square one. I move to a much nicer and happier country, its good for about a month then I’m plunged back into this never ending darkness. So I move towns to be with my best friend, walking on eggs shells the whole time so I don’t upset her boyfriend and world war 3 breaks out but I think it has because now I’m meant to leave soon. But to where? I’m over trying to fix my head, why can’t the movies happen to me? Someone comes in and does all the saving for me? I’m starting to think it can’t be fixed, it’s natural selection right? The weak must die and the strong must live. I’ve tried so many times to get it right but maybe its time to stop fooling everyone and admit defeat? My brain wont get any better, not after 15 or so years.
I can’t take the emotional pain anymore. I’ve tried so many different anti-depressants. Do I need ECT? I just want some ******** to leave this world peacefully. I’m never going to accept my sexuality. I have unwanted same-sex attraction and at the same time want a family life. I’m 42 and time is running out. What’s the point of all this? Please god intervene, save this soul from hell and let me die peacefully. Psychiatrists, psychologists, support groups, friends, family, exercise, tried everything but I’m constantly thinking about suicide. Yes, I have some things going on in my life which I appreciate, BUT THE LONELINESS COUPLED WITH MY SEXUALITY WILL KILL ME.
I’m 49 years old and have had suicidal ideation since I was about 9. I’ve had a lifetime of therapy, over 23 years of 12-step meetings, and almost 20 years of anti-depressants. IÂ have many friends, I’m a licensed attorney, and I have the most charming house. Most important of all, I have the most awesome kid. When I read that I should not commit suicide because “things will get better,” I assure you, inÂ many respects things couldn’t get any better. However, the effects of child abuse are incurable and life-long and after being alive for almost half a century, I am confident that things, fundamentally, will not “get better.” Currently, my plan is to wait another six years until my daughterÂ turns 18 and then leave. I’ve held on this long.
I’m not sure why I feel compelled to share my story, but for whatever reason I’m not sure I can stop myself from typing these words. But I will try to keep to details to a minimum and will just cover the most important aspects to keep this short. In high school I was an introverted nerd, but the first year actually turned out to the best, and it was only downhill from there. I had large ears and a stutter, the latter of which would often limit the conversations and connections and I could have with other people. In grade eight I started to feel depressed and was put on anti-depressants, but the initial lift I got from my medication seemed to subside after the first few months. I also started to get painful under the skin acne, and for the first time in my life most of my concerns were fixated on my appearance as oppose to just my stutter or the general nervousness I felt around new people. In year ten I suddenly started to get head tremors that would cause me head to ‘twitch’ from side to side, which just made me even more of a prime target for teasing and ridicule. By that point it just felt life was kicking me when I was down, and girls in particular made fun of me a lot. And of course I never had the confidence to stand up for myself; without exaggeration I had no self-esteem to speak of. All the crushes and attractions I’d had to girls in my year level were unrequited, but it’s not something I’ve ever felt bitter about. Don’t get me wrong it deeply hurts to be lonely on a level which few people will have to experience, not to mention going through a life devoid of any kind of emotional or physical intimacy. But in my own head I never blamed the girl’s I liked for not reciprocating interest, I was hardly some great catch. That said, I did henceforth hold the view that women were the ones most likely to pick on me and use my vulnerability against me. But going back to the head tremors, that was the first time I’d experienced something akin to panic attacks. It felt like I was stuck in a nightmare when I’d try to sit still in class and I couldn’t stop my head from moving. I could hear the people sitting behind me and around me laughing at me, so I tried to skip as many classes as I could without raising too much concern with any school teachers. It just seemed so unfair that in a time when most of the people in my year level were working out who they were and what they wanted I was being beaten down with another ‘physical inadequacy’.
The head tremors did reduce by year eleven, but the damage was already done. I felt completely detached and alienated,Â but I was just trying me best to drag myself to the end even though I had little remaining energy or motivation to be there. But that point people were starting to consider who they wanted to see after high school, and I felt like as though I had no real place in anyone’s life. I’d only been to about three parties and I could feel the three friends I was close to begin to drift away from me. And all those casual friends and acquaintances just wouldn’t exist after graduation either. Going to the last exam and then walking home by myself was the loneliest I had felt at that point. Over the holidays I largely stayed inside my own house, leaving only if there was some essential family gathering and to do some part time work just before entering study. I didn’t get very high marks when graduating from school, so to get into my desired course I had to enroll at a University further than I would’ve liked. That was when it really hit me that thing’s had changed forever. It occurred to me that the only way I was able to get through school was by using my friends as a barrier for my lack of confidence and social incompetence. But I had no friends to shield my now, and although I tried not to draw attention to myself I began to realize that I was not able to fit in with normal people. I was experiencing new levels of anxiety and depression, and it was so overwhelming that after two weeks I transferred to the University at which my dad works. But it changed nothing, I still felt absolutely terrible around any of the students I would have to walk by or sit near in lectures. I could vaguely remember what it was like to be normal in my earlier life, and an entire year of that seemed like a breeze compared to a single day outside of my house. What I was experiencing seemed beyond comprehension, I mean how could I tell my parents that suddenly being around people felt like being punched in the stomach? It was much worse than the anxiety I had felt when the head tremors started or being expected to do a school presentation and expecting to stutter. My heart rate would suddenly start racing when I arrived at my University, and I started to develop new quirks like using my hand to block off anyone from seeing my from my profile.
I began looking into whatever mirror I could (bathroom mirror, car mirror, reflections etc.), and I began to notice how disgusting I found not just my acne but also my facial features. It went beyond just hating a handful of individual physical shot comings because now all I could see was this hideous monster staring back at me. My nose had never concerned me in the past but now I hated it’s bulbous tip and how far it projected from my face, which made me particular self-conscious about my profile. I hated how creepy and intense my eyes looked, even if they were completely relaxed, and my long, narrow face shape. Sometimes I would go to the opposite extreme of the scale and would manically avoid any mirrors or reflections. About four months into my University course it just became too much for me, it just felt like the whole world was against me. I would always get stared at and ignored by the students in my classes, I felt like an outsider to say the least. Other than my parents and sister it felt like there wasn’t a single other person I was important to, and for the first time in my life suicide had become a very possibility. It has crossed my mind a couple of times during high school, but now I began to think about methods and plan out the ideal dates. But nothing about me as a person wanted to die, it was merely that I didn’t want to deal with my circumstances. I found myself wanted to jump off one of the high story buildings at my University, but I couldn’t push myself into doing it. When I returned home I explained to my sister the frame of mind I was in and my suicidal thoughts which of course led to telling my parents. I was rushed to an emergency team who analyzed my situation, but because I hadn’t actually attempted suicide they didn’t feel it was necessary to put me into a psych ward. I started seeing a psychiatrist and went on different medication, but most importantly I dropped out of my study course. I told my parents that I had other plans, and to some extent I believed that myself, but really all it was just the beginning of my six year stretch as a shut-in.
My parents tried to encourage me to go out regularly, but the only thing that made sense to my was how I felt emotionally. And being outside and around people felt worse than a nightmare, it made me feel lower than low. But staying inside and playing a new video game or watching a new movie was euphoric, and to immerse myself further and further into escapism became my only goal. It was my only pleasure in life, the only thing that gave me something to look forward to. Although I was broke over the years I’d try to buy as many budget games and download as many movies as I could. After a couple of months as a recluse I had to acknowledge to myself that this was not some short-term problem that would vanish at the snap of a finger, nor was it something I had the strength or willpower to try and overcome. Although I have matured over time given that I was something of a man child back then, I am and have always been a weak person. I have always been much more emotional than the majority of guys out there, and extremely sensitive to any kind of criticism our ridicule. It’s not that I wanted to live life as a loser and a freak, It just didn’t seem like there were any other options. My depression and anxiety left me just enough energy to get up in the morning. I became entirely reliant on escapism, and although I’ve never suffered from hallucinations I became so involved with my own fantasies that I’d forget just how little was actually happening in my real life. So for the first four years of being a shut-in I almost subconsciously believed that I would saved in some magical way, that I was too nice as a person to be stuck with the cards I had been dealt. My life just seemed unfair beyond words and often I’ve tried to console myself by speculating that anybody would do just as poorly at life if they were in my shoes. There was just no way that I could accept that my daily existence was my life, and to get somewhat ahead of myself after years of deliberating and making plans for suicide it’s actually going to happen.
A number of other significant things happened in those first four years, but rather than go into any great detail I will just skim over them… Such as my initial loss of my sex drive because I just didn’t want to think about women. Or the tug of war match between my overbearing parents and my stubborn refusal to push myself outside of my comfort zone. Or all the different dermatologists recommendations and home remedies I tried in the futile hope of improving my skin. Or the suicide attempt via overdose that just resulted in uncontrollable puking and a tedious nine days spent in a psych ward. Or the plastic surgery I had done on my ears, but was severelyÂ disappointed given that I also had planned for surgery on my nose, chin and jaw but didn’t have the money necessary. Or my return to thinking about girls and getting stuck into compulsive masturbation and continuing to faun over pictures of pretty actresses. Or how on top of acne I developed a skin disorder called seb dermatitis in which my face is constantly dry and flaking. Or the stream of psychologists, psychiatrists and medications that I’ve been through only to eventually come to the same conclusion; that the problem was not my attitude, my perception. I could even go into more detail just how awful I feel when I see people stare at me with pity, laugh at me behind my back and treat me as though I’m so pathetic and tragic that I am so much lower than them and every other ‘normal’ person.Â Or the pure hatred and spite I felt for towards all people for being so judgmental towards me and not allowing me into their normality and society. For a long stretch of time I was fixated on the fantasy of showing people what I have to deal with on a daily basis and how much normal people just perpetuate my own anxieties and concerns. But mostly the fantasy that stuck with me was the one of looking the way I want to look, usually like a certain actor (most notably a young Val Kilmer). I would obsess over pictures of faces, and I’d dream of having perfect skin, no stutter or head tremors, chiseled masculine features and beautiful eyes. Without exaggeration there hasn’t been a single day in the last six years that I haven’t wallowed in my own self-hatred and indulged in the fantasy of looking like my ‘ideal self’. And whilst years three and four of being a recluse were difficult given that It became harder and harder to ignore the reality of my situation, years five and six (six counting as the first half of this year of course) have just been brutal.
The aforementioned seb dermatitis skin disorder has only gotten worse and worse, which only made me even more self-conscious than I had ever been and increased the frequency of people’s stares. I really grew to hate the way someone can communicate so much disgust and rejection just with their eyes. Sometimes prior to the fifth years my skin would improve temporarily and I would doubt that it was my worst short coming, but without a doubt it is the sole focus on my anxiety now. People look at me and immediately their own faces, which I suppose is some sort of non-verbal way of communicating their confusion and repulsion to flaky look of my skin. I put on cover-up to hide the red marks, but that only makes the dryness look worse. As with my acne I’ve tried everything I could think might help but to little avail. My head tremors would often be there in full force, so all in all it feels impossible to walk by another human being without standing out like a sore thumb. But perhaps even harder than that was realizing how much games, films and the internet just weren’t enough. Sure, I continued to immerse myself in these things compulsively but the euphoria had died down. And even though enough enjoyment still remained experiencing these things no longer felt fulfilling in the absurd way that they used to. And although I had been painfully lonely in the past it would usually last for a few days or a week. This year and the last loneliness has been like my default state of mind. I hit me just how much I wanted more then escapism, which in retrospect is a realization I probably want to bury into my subconscious. Escapism just wasn’t enough, it had merely been an adequate distraction for a few years. What I wanted was to look like my ideal self not just for my own peace of mind, but to have a real, proper life. I want friends to hang-out with, a girlfriend to experience romance with, travel and adventure, independence and organization and most importantly to be able to connect with people. The other revelation I’ve had is that in these last six years I probably haven’t connected with anybody no matter how much I wanted to? How many people in real life are going to empathize and be able to relate to my situation? How could I ever get past my own anxiety to actually look people in the eye when they are talking or through my body language and voice feign any kind of normality?
I haven’t merely been isolated in the physical sense, but I’ve been cut-off from emotional connection to anybody. I live inside my own head that is full of fantasies and daydreams and the only joy I get comes from things that aren’t real. The level that I’m on is so much lower than anybody else I could walk by or talk to, and in retrospect it seems like no matter what I could’ve tried in my first year as a hermit I would’ve eventually reached this conclusion. During this year and last I’ve had so many days where I just can’t stop myself crying, I’ve had so many empty nights wondering what it would be like to hangout with mates, to experience physical intimacy with a girl or to feel like you have real opportunities and goals at your disposal. A lot of anger I had for people subsided too, which only left me to further remind myself of my own loneliness and to mull over the embarrassments and disappointments of my past. So many times I considered killing myself from the loneliness but as usual my fear of death and complacency kept me going for a bit longer. I honed down on watching as many movies as I could and tried to use them as replacements for real life experiences. If I wanted to get a basic idea of love and intimacy was like I’d watch an indie romance drama, or to have friends I’d watch I hangout movie or a comedy/dramedy with a hangout aspect to it. Even films that were stylized I would try to use in place of actual experiences, but usually it would just remind me how much more I really wanted to go through these things myself and not through the detached state of looking at a television or computer screen. I wished that I could just experience the meaty parts of anybody’s life, anyone who has ever lived. And that I could experience a film not as though I was actually a specific character but as though I was really there as this passive observer. The disconnect between myself and the escapism I had on hand only reminded me that it could never stand-up to the real deal. And whenever I go outside and see everyday people I get jealous beyond words because they have been given what I feel a deserve just as much as they do. I don’t have a strong desire for fame, riches or excelling academically, athletically or creatively. What I want, and what most people have been given, is the chance to live a real, normal life.
I tried so hard to latch onto the next movie or game that might prolong my life a bit longer, but I’ve delayed my suicide plans for too long. I haven’t been able to deal with my life for six years now, and finally it’s going to be over. I won’t have to wake up and look in the mirror, only to see red marks from acne, dry skin from my skin disorder and a face so hideous that I want to cry. No longer will I have to walk out in public and see those awful, pitying looks and stares normal people give me. No longer will I have to deal with this anxiety and depression. So now that I am going to end my life on this very day I will say that the main thing I feel is disappointment. I guess I’m too tired and empty to feel angry at mankind, and although I look back fondly on some of my moments with movies and video games, escapism just isn’t enough to give me motivation to live for even another week.Â I do feel guilty for doing this to my family, the only people still a part of my life, but I just don’t see how I could be expected to deal with this any longer. I’m not scared of death, for I believe there is something better after it. But there’s nothing that shake this feeling of disappointment at the forefront of my mind. I really did want to have a proper life, and even if it took me a while to recognize it I really want to be around and connect with people. I wanted the chance to show the world I could make something of myself, not to to fulfill the expectations or society or the people in it, but to work at my own goals and to live a life I could be happy with. I wouldn’t reject the chance at having a care-free luxurious life, but ultimately what I desired was to have as much as the average person not more. Anyway, I guess this is goodbye from a stranger to a stranger. I hope you have a life worth living, and if you do by all means treasure it and make the most of it. Goodbye.
Iâ€™m reaching my breaking point. Last night, I wrote my letter. I plan to do the deed in August. I would do it sooner but I promised a good friend I would help decorate when she moves Â in July. Initially, I planned to go out on my 40th bday. You know give myself one last chance to make something of myself and turn this miserable life around but Iâ€™mÂ EXHAUSTEDÂ â€“physically, mentally, emotionally.
I got into a good college after high school but I ruined it by dropping out after my junior year. My life has been on a downward spiral ever since then. Â I’veÂ spent the last fifteen years trying to make up for my mistake. Last year, I finally finished my bachelorâ€™s degree. Now, Iâ€™m in a job making less than I did before I had the degree.
Since finishing school, I have had to face how empty my life really isâ€”I have very few friends and I am not close to my family. Everyone at work is either married or in a relationship. I don’t fit in at all. Â Iâ€™m 35 and I have never been in a real relationship.Â All the guys Iâ€™m interested in are in a relationship and/or simply not interested in me. Iâ€™m fat and most men find me unattractive.Â I know I will never be in a relationship, get married or have kids.
I suffer from chronic lower back pain due to a herniated disc. There are days when the pain is so bad all I can do is lie in bed doped up on pain meds. Iâ€™m in my thirties and already own a cane and a walker.
I’veÂ been in therapy for years.Â I’veÂ been on at least different anti-depressants. I actually do the work the therapist suggests. Every time I get my hopes up that things are going to finally change for the better, they seem to get worse. I know there is something inherently wrong with me â€“ I seem doomed to fail. Â I cannot nor want to put any more energy and effort into this life.Â I just canâ€™t do it anymore. Iâ€™m tired of being an outcast and being alone.Â I have no reason to keep on living.
I figure this is the best place to come & get advice for this sort of situation:
I just got my anti-depressants today (my first ever prescription) but I got it so late in the day that I couldn’t take any. Tomorrow I have my license test, and since my anti-depressant has the ability to really help my anxiety, I feel like I should take one before my test. However, I’ve never taken one, and it could have a negative effect, making me unable to drive.
Someone please give me some advice!!
I’m bored so….The first time, I was 14, I was scared to death my dad had a meeting at the school and he was going to find out I was flunking out. Â I went into the cabinet and poured a bunch of Aspirin into my hand and swallowed them. Â I laid in bed and closed my eyes. Â This was my most sincere attempt because at the time thats what I knew, I had heard on TV (lots of times) about overdosing on pills. My teenaged brain didn’t have the defense mechanisms it has today. Â All that happened was I ended up sleeping for 14 hours and then running away when I woke up. Â 15 years later my life was again unbearable. Â This time I had my own house. Â By now I had learned through media that sitting in your running car in an enclosed garage would put you peacefully to sleep. Â This time my objective was to kill myself so that the pain would end and certain family members would feel the pain that I felt they were inflicting on me. Â Unfortunately my brain didn’t allow me to sit in the car for longer than 15 minutes or so as I continued to see images of my 4 year old nephew and newborn niece. Â So I stayed alive, eventually I got on anti-depressants (for awhile) and fought through to now 10 years later where I find myself again looking up things like suicide by bbq and reading and writing on the suicide project. Â But I know I cant do it. Â My niece and nephew are awesome but their mom has kicked me out of “her” family. Â I feel like this will pass but I dont know for sure and when. Â So now I just am. Â I just sit and look at the wall, the ceiling, out the window. Â I get bored and check the 2 or 3 things that mean nothing on this computer. Â I’m never hungry but I’m always looking in the fridge, I usually just drink some water. Â I guess I’m going to go back to couch now and do the only thing I can do, close my eyes and dream of being in a better place, even though I know those thoughts will be interrupted by the real thoughts that I’m alone and even my own family hates me.
Even though I’ve been on anti depressants for almost a year now, and I have had my dosage upped twice, the depression persists. It figures because it’s chronic. But where I used to feel that at least something better was around the bend, now I feel like each passing year worsens me as both a person and a functional human being.
I can’t bring myself to meet goals or requirements. I’m always tired and I rarely feel good. I’m lonely, but I can’t make strong connections with anyone. I try to reach out but it’s never the kind of fulfillment I need socially. I haven’t had a mutual crush in years. Any feelings I develop for someone are rebuffed more or less immediately, making me highly aware of how undesirable I’ve come as I get more and more depressed, and less and less ‘new’.
I don’t care about things, but I do. I’m ridden with guilt every time I miss work or school, or flake on an agreed appointment/social outing. It happens a lot. Mostly because I haven’t got the energy, or I convince myself that I haven’t. Doing the daily stuff is this tug of war in my mind. Part of me just doesn’t care, the other part only cares because it knows other people will. I hate letting others down.
I want to die, if only because it means that things stop, but I can’t really go through with it. My mother needs me. I wish that she needed me in a way that involved her actually spending time with me and putting us first, though. She knows I’m not well but she has her own life to live. She doesn’t realize I’m living mine just to keep her sane. This July she takes a trip to our hometown, or at least mine. We haven’t been back in around 5 years, but she decided to take her boyfriend (whose abuses and issues I could go on about ad nauseum, but she will never leave him, so it’s hopeless) and not myself. I can’t help being bothered by it, since the return to Montreal should be something we share as a mother and daughter. She’d rather be around him. That’s what it seems to come down to. She claims she doesn’t put him, her house, her garden, and everything else head of my needs–but most of the time I’m always the first priority to get dropped.
I guess I sound whiny. I am whiny. I’m a depressed, whiny 24 year old, and that’s a big part of why I can’t meet anyone.
I feel like a loser, and a future cat lady.
I am suicidal. Because I’m extremely depressed. I’ve been depressed for most of my life. I’ve been on anti-depressants for four years. I’ve gone to therapy many many times. I’ve given up on life, and I want to die. But that’s not going to happen. I realized that I’m not going to die unless of old age or if I get really sick. I just left college, a really good college because of my depression. and YES I was smoking weed 24/7 and I was dependent on weed, but I am not addicted. I was just self-medicating. So once I left college in January I stopped smoking and drinking. And everyone tells me that my depression got worst because of marijuana. But you know what, if I’m gonna be stuck on this earth, I am going to do what ever I can to make me happy, and I am happy when I smoke so I’m going to start smoking again. I haven’t smoked since January and my depression is worst and nothing is working, my medication isn’t working, and therapy is bullshit. My family isn’t supportive and I have no real friends. I’ve got friends that don’t understand depression and I’ve got friends that understand what I’m going through but are too busy with their lives or simply don’t care. So I’m going to start smoking again and yes I’m nervous that it will make my depression worst, but I just can’t sit here anymore. I can’t keep waiting for things to get better. I am going insane and on the verge of going to the hospital for suicide watch. I just want to be happy.
I feel numb right now, Â maybe of the anti depressants im taking, they make me feel weird. I cant sleep even though ive taken enough sleeping tablets to knock me out 3 times. I dont have anyone to talk to. I dont have the energy to write details, but here is my basic story.
My life for as long as I can remember has been unhappy, Ive been physically & mentally abused all my life. It made me insecure, I developed an eating disorder, self harmed and was suicidal a long time, I told myself when i’m older I wont feel like this and it will go away. I broke free from the situation I was in, I started living in supportedÂ accommodationÂ and got away from my family life. I blocked everything out so much that it got to the point where I almost forgot everything, I never looked back at the past, and the rare occasion that I did, I found it hard to believe that was even me, I questioned whether it was even real, it seemed bizarre that I was that depressed for so long, and that I done the things that Â I did to myself, and had the issues I did. I lived a happy life, lots of friends, amazing social life and really popular, nobody knew about my past. I worked hard and saved money and went to the other side of the world, I promised myself that if things ever got bad out there I would never, ever return, even though I had a good life with my friends and social life, this place is always going to be associated with the bad people. 8months after being there things went bad, I wasnt getting a lot of work and couldnt afford to live, I was basically jobless and homeless on the other side of the world with nowhere to turn to. I had problems having sex with a guy I met. That brought everything back, the self harm, the thoughts of suicide. I remembered the promise I made to myself, I tried to kill myself. It didnt work, I was at a loss and didnt know what to do, so I turned to the people who I never thought I would, the only people I really had to turn to. My parents booked me a flight back, within days of being home the way things used to be continued. All my problems that I had got over come back, it was as if I had jumped back into this depressed person I managed to forget, instantly. I struggled with the fact I had come home to this, I would rather be dead the other side of the world than this. I was mad at myself for not sticking to my promise and forgetting how bad things were back here. I felt stuck. Things got bad so I went and stayed with a friend for a few weeks, when I got back home he did it again, I was screaming for my mam and he told me that she wouldnt be able to hear me. Thats the first time id screamed for her, in the past she just ignored anything that went on, but I felt helpless. I bit his hand to try get him off me cos its all I could do, he had me pinned down. My mam eventually come and he got off me and walked out the room, she apologised for letting this happen for so long and said she would leave him. This was the first time in over 20 years she had acknowledged anything.. A day later Â I went home and he had managed to persuade her that she didnt see what she saw. I was devistated, I couldnt believe it. My friend picked me up and ive lived with her ever since. Now im on anti depressants, i have nightmares, I hate that I come back here, I dont have a stable home, Im scared to go out, I dont see my friends, I havent had one phonecall or text off my mam to see how I am and its been months. Im angry at what hes done. The anger doesnt go away so I end up taking it out on myself, Ive slipped back into the person I worked so hard to forget. I knew that I wouldnt be able to handle it if i ever got this low again, I dont know what to do.
I’m 68 and have lived with depression since age 16. Anti-depressants help, but sure don’t solve everything. I’m single and have supported myself since college, but couldn’t handle the duplicity, meanness and emptiness of a corporate job and didn’t have the energy to start my own business. Besides, back in my day there was one career for women–marriage. I didn’t want that job unless it was a mutually fulfilling relationship, something I never found. As I told my mother once, I’m not a whore for sale and I won’t use a man that way.
I’ve managed to own my home. I have social security and Medicare and a good backup health plan. But I can’t pay my bills on that and no one will hire someone my age for part time when they can get a fresh college grad. I live in an area of NC with 3 universities.
The kicker is that when my father dies, I should inherit enough to have a very comfortable life; with money and assets, heâ€™s worth quite a bit; not quite a million but close; but he doesn’t see any reason to help me now. From his perspective, he thinks I’m young and can get a job. Well, I’ve tried. I donâ€™t’ have the energy for full time. I have some health problems.
Geez, this sounds depressing! Sorry. I’ve written my dad a letter, letting him know all this. Iâ€™m waiting to hear back and hope it wonâ€™t be the story about how he worked for 25 cents a week when he was ten so he could buy a bicycle.
I had planned to work part time at UNC after retirement. I wouldnâ€™t have retired except the position was deleted. Now part time isn’t there for me, even for jobs for which I have glowing references. At 68, they always find some reason to hire someone younger.
I have written a novel that deals with suicide. It’s not all about depression though, because neither are we on this website. But I haven’t found an agent or publisher, and even if I e-publish, without marketing, my chances of selling are just a bit better than winning the lottery. Any of you who are writers will understand. Iâ€™m trying to figure out how to get on Amazon Kindle and how to create a cover for Createspace.
Tomorrow is a new day. But tonight feels dismal. You on this website are the only ones I can open up with, be truthful. I do love my father and to wait for his death so I can be okay financially is a sick place to be. Any idea of how to break through to him that I need his help now in order to survive until I inherit? I hate being in this situation.
Oh, and BTW, I’m not even allowed to mention the name Obama when I go home because it might upset someone. Yet they make me listen to Rush Limbaugh. EEK! Because I was against the Vietnam War and the Iraq war and voted for Obama, my father has told me he’s ashamed of me, called me hopeless and ruined. Yet he was the one who raised me as a Christian. I’m not religious at all now, but I still have the values.
I am very grateful for what I do have–a home in the NC woods, three loving pets. But without enough money to pay property taxes etc., that home might be gone.
Okay, I’ve whimpered enough. I’ve tried suicide before. It’s just not easy to kill oneself. I worked in hospitals for a time and have seen the terrible results of failed attempts, people crippled for life and still depressed, even more so than before.
Bye for now, hang in there, the rest of you. Love you all.
I don’t feel like proof-reading this. Sorry if there are any errors or unclear ideas in this text.
I’m suicidal. I’ve wanted to end my life for several years, though I’m only 19 years old. I’ve been institutionalized twice, but I only had a short recovery after both. The medication they gave me stopped working, but things got drastically worse when I stopped taking them. Now I’m back on anti-depressants and mild neuroleptica. They worked wonders for about a week, but now I’ve gradually become more and more depressed and chaotic (in my mind).
Why is it like this? Why am I so fricking depressed all the time? Is it my own fault? Could I stop it? There are too many questions in my head and few answers. All I know is that I don’t really have any will to live. I’ve got things I like about life, sure; I like to sing, listen to music, play video games, you name it. But this isn’t enough to keep me from drowning in my own thoughts. I’m too weak. The world is to overwhelming.
I’ve been diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder depressive type. Once. What I mean by “once” is that, when I got out of the hospital the second time, the doctors didn’t view me as psychotic at all. I’ve talked to several psychiatrists and different people of the medical community, but I always get mixed answers. Some say I sound psychotic, some say I don’t. I don’t know what to believe. A part of me wants this diagnosis, then I can finally say I have an excuse, something to explain to others when they see me cry. Without the diagnosis, I’m just me. Where is my excuse then? People say my depression is enough, or that I don’t need an excuse, but I feel like I need something to stand behind, something that will hide me. It would be easier that way. I’ve had enough of being me.
If someone asks me “why are you suicidal?”, I wouldn’t know what to say. I want to ask them “well, why are you not?”. I know that death is the final stage and that my conciousness will be dead and gone once my heart stops beating and my brain shuts down. I will be gone forever. All I have is now. And yet I want to throw it all away. Why? Isn’t that a bit strange? Well, once you feel as wothless, as cowardly, as useless and stupid as I do now, anything else would be weird. I don’t deserve to live. My friends always viewed me as the useless and stupid one. They didn’t tease me directly about it, but I know they talked behind my back. They always implied things, too. This is also a part of why I want to take my life: revenge. I want them to suffer like I have. I want them to reconsider the way they treated me. I want to see them cry. “Oh, [my name], what have we done?”. Ok, I won’t see anything if I’m six feet under or sitting in an urn, but that’s not the point. I want their suffering.
Yes, I do carry a lot of anger. I want to hurt and kill others, but I know that would be a greater loss to the world than if I were to kill myself first. I might give birth to a doctor or an engineer if I’m so lucky that I find someone who will actually find me attractive, but that doesn’t help me. What will I do in life? Why am I important? That’s exactly it; I’m not important at all. Mybe my family would shed a few tears once I’m gone, but… so what? I know I’m selfish for thinking like this. “God’s sake, woman, don’t you think about the ones who love you?” I do. They keep me from actually killing myself, all because of guilt. Yet want to be able to swallow my feelings to end this pain. Yes, I’m a selfish *****. That’s part of why I hate myself.
People can read my thoughts. I’m constantly under surveillance. Or at least, that’s what it feels like 24/7. I know these are delusions, but they are so overwhelming that I can’t ignore them. If I have a thought or an idea, it’s not mine. It’s like I’m always screaming at the world even though I want to be silent. Everyone knows how stupid I am. Everyone knows my faults.
I might call a suicide hotline tonight. I doubt I’ll take my life, though I have considered it for several days in a row now. I will probably feel like this for a while, and who knows, maybe my life will end by my hand in the end?
To whoever is reading,
I give up. I’m a 19 year old, white, lower middle class, agnostic, who lives in California and I am killing myself on February 12th, my birthday. I’ve felt this way for several months and had thoughts of suicide for years. I already decided how I am going to go. I just felt like telling someone. I attempted suicide just over a week ago but was talked out of it. This time I won’t be.
I’m an exconvict on parole for possession with intent to sell. I’ve hurt so many people. Especially the people closest to me. This will hurt them but it will be for the best in the long run. I killed someone while drinking and driving a little over a year ago. I struggle with substance abuse and alcohol. I have major depression and even though I started taking anti depressants they aren’t making me feel any different. I feel so much pain and all I want is for it to finally end. By killing myself I hope to finally do something right.
I think I need to up my dosage.Â I’ve been on anti-depressants for 6 weeks and I haven’t felt any positive effect.Â If anything, I feel worse.Â Suicide resides in the forefront of my mind.Â Futility rules supreme in my mind.Â I’ll meet with my therapist, maybe she can help.
since 3rd grade i’ve struggled with trichotillomania. for those who do not know, trichotillomania, often linked to anxiety disorders, is a hair pulling disorder. many people think it is just a habit -like my mother- but it is not. my father believes this issue of mine can be fixed by using punishment, he’s fed this idea to my mum and she’s tried it. of course it didn’t work. my doctor suggested prozac -my mums against any anti depressants- i want it so badly. i want it so that i can have my hair grow back nice and thick, i want it because a side effect is suicidal thoughts and it’d be great as a little booster to push me off the edge.
but she wont let me have it, so im stuck feeling like this, dealing with this. everybody points it out, the fact that my hair’s gotten so much thinner within a few months. people always ask me why i ALWAYS wear a hat. they think im weird. odd. crazy. people i feel comfortable telling this to always just say, “why dont you just stop?” or, “you’re doing it to yourself, its your own fault.” but no, its not my fault i’m anxious all the time, they all make me feel that way, i cant control it. there’s hair everywhere. living a childhood with this disorder is difficult beyond belief and over the years it has torn me down. i have no self confidence what so ever, its terrifying. i’m never going to be beautiful enough…
if i were to die i’d no longer have to deal with this.
Every day its the same thing, like a movie over and over.
A company who I spent three hundred dollars on their self help programs emailed me an ad trying to get me to buy more. I have been doing their programs all year! I definitely feel like I wasted my money on greedy people! Because they wrote me trying to sell me more with an ad titled “They Did it to me!” And that takes the cake!
I beg to differ. What does a person do when theyÂ REALLY did it to me, and in great numbers, continue to do it to me, and no matter what positive attitude have, no matter what fantastic in-genius ideas I have, no matter how much I pretend to love them like friends, they go on doing it to me. No matte how I serve them, no matter what I do, even the police have conspired. My civil rights have been insanely violated! And I am not crazy, but what they want is to not let me have any kind of fun no matter what. I have lived in Glendale and Burbank for 23 years now. One thing is for sure. I have not had even a date with a any women for 23 years and I feel like suing America for not having any domestic tranquility! I WAS a very good looking young guy, now I have had a big-time nervous breakdown and I am on anti-depressants and aI bought a bunch of your programs and have done them faithfully.
Â So far, nothing that I do it seems can break this conspiracy. I would not even sentence Hitler to the life I have had here. But I have traveled to other places and it seems that no matter where I go, the people know about me and treat me a certain way. Even though I am on tranquilizers and anti-depressants, I still feel like jumping off a bridge or going on a roof of a building, hoping I could state my case to the news. Right now, I have gotten fat from the drugs I have been on and I am old and ugly and have no teeth! So, my whole dreams of being with a young princess is totally gone. Even though I am intelligent talented man who plays a lot of instruments and has written many love songs that would be hit records I am sure! But now, I hate the masses of people and I do not feel like entertaining them anyway! And I started smoking like a chimney and cannot sing anymore! DO YOU HAVE A CD FOR THAT!? IF YOU DO, I NEED A FREE ONE BECAUSE I AM BROKE!-Thomas Kerry
I’ve tried turning my life round, but yet again I’ve failed. I keep trying to better myself but everything ends up being a false dawn of hope or another fuck up to add to the ever extending list. I’ve always been a bit melancholy but I love having a laugh. I want to be in love again but I can’t open up. People say that I sometimes come across as cocky or supremely confident, yet I’m actually shy and unsure of myself. I’m one huge contradiction. I can easily identify with those who say they wear a mask in front of others and hide what they’re actually feeling.
I’ve got close friends, vast numbers of mates and a good family, but I still can’t change the way I feel about life and I can’t open up to anyone about it. I’m more complicated than people realise and I don’t want to be a burden, I don’t want to bring others down with all my shit. I wouldn’t even know how to put it into words. Little things spin me out of a positive mindset and back into morbidness. Lack of money, dead end jobs, being single, Â instability. They all wear me down day by day. I was on a course of anti-depressants in the summer for a month and they helped, but I’ve been dipping gradually ever since. What am I supposed to do?! I’m not taking anti-depressants for the rest of my life. I’m 24 and I have nothing to show for it. A failed university course, skills that I’ve learnt but not mastered. My close group of mates are racking up the life experiences; Travelling, holidays, London piss-ups, festivals. What do I do? fuck all. Maybe one festival a year if I’m lucky (that leaves me living on pennies afterwards). Others have started buying houses, decent cars. I’m still stuck at home, driving a shit-heap, getting paid a pittance with no prospects and a mountain of debt that I have no hope of ever paying. I only realised how bad it’s been going now it’s christmas, when being skint really hits home. I’ve been on a self-destruction mission for a few months without even realising. Spending all my wages midweek getting drunk, drink-driving home, hating being sober. It’s not alcoholism, it’s the fact that at least when I’m steaming I don’t have to think about how shit my life is.
We’ve always had to struggle as a family, financially. But now everyone else is prospering and I’m the one who keeps making shit career and life choices, keeps making mistakes. I’m the 4th of 5 kids and whilst the others have good lives and careers I’ve got nothing. My last venture is to start up a business with a mate. Well he’s even more useless than I am and seems to be doing his best to fuck the whole thing up. I’m a failure and I always have been but I can’t go on failing and disappointing anymore. When I was considering taking my own life about 6-9 months ago the thing that held me back was family and friends. That’s not enough for me to reconsider anymore. I feel lessÂ attached to everyone now, like I don’t belong anymore. the last 2 weeks since work finished for the xmas break I’ve done nothing. I lie on my bed, watch tv, I do nothing worth while and I can’t change. I’ve stopped eating over the last 3 days, I don’t speak to anyone and no one speaks to me. I’ve accepted what I’m going to do. I’ll wait until after New Years Eve ’cause I don’t want to ruin everyone else’s night. I might do it on New years whilst my friends and family are busy doing their own thing. either way, I can’t go on, I don’t want to keep slipping in to this frame of mind every few months. I don’t want to keep tailoring my dreams and aspirations in life accordingly for each fuck up and failure that happens and lowering my expectations. I was emotional when I last went through this but now I’m not even upset. I feel dead already.
If anyone I know reads this (unlikely) then all I can do is apologise. I really am sorry, but don’t be upset. Move on. I’ve never felt truly comfortable in this life. TheÂ experiences I’ve had with my mates have meant everything to me, but they’re becoming too few and far between and that’s my fault, not yours. I’ve hated my life and the direction it’s been heading for years, but when I try and change it it only seems to get worse. I’m self destructive and unproductive. I don’t really know why I’m writing this anyway, I suppose I’m just looking for what everyone else on here is too. That feeling that someone else understands, maybe? Or maybe just a bit of fame and attention? I don’t know, I don’t really want the attention or “you’ve got so much to live for. Don’t do it! Things will get better” ’cause it’s all bullshit, small talk and lies.
For those who have taken the time to read this then thank you, and I apologise for my cynicism and self-loathing. I’ve always been a pessimistic little shite.
Maybe I just wasn’t made for this life, maybe I’m meant to skip to the next one?
See you on the otherside x