Suffocating is how it feels. I am drowning in every breathe I take. It’s not getting better, maybe for some of us this is the best it gets. I am not a genuine person, I lie so people don’t see me. I lie so people like me. I lie so people don’t see what a colossal fuck up I am. To the people I am myself to, I feel like a burden. Like they’re only my friends out of pity. I am pitiful. This anxiety makes me weak and it steers me into making bad decisions. I don’t blame anyone or anything because I know that everything is my fault. I have been fighting myself for years, I think I’m just ready to throw in the towel. Some people will cry, but life goes on. People move on. Selfish or not, I need to be euthanized from this mental disease that only makes me sicker by the day. If mental illness can be terminal then I am stage 4. I am weak, and I am my depression that I am consumed with. I thank God for everyday he’s given me, but I think this is the end of the road for me. Happiness isn’t meant for people like me, I’m just here to bring happiness to others. Pretending I’m okay is exhausting, waking up everyday is a challenge. I just need to go to sleep now, and hope god has mercy on me and takes me in his arms while I dream restlessly in the night.
Hi, my name is kristen and I’m 15 years old. Ive had anorexia for almost 3 years now and it has made me a manic depressed. I have had suicidal thoughts for 6 months now. I just CANT do this anymore, I hate living like this, I feel like I’m trapped. I’m forever being bullied my people who I thought were my friends. People just think they can walk all over me and I’m done. I don’t know what to do anymore… I’m getting worse and worse each day.
Can’t take it!! I feel like a constant failure all the time, everybody tells me that I’m great, that I’m awesome, brilliant, smart… My family loves me, my brother cares more about me that I do, my friends always bring me back up, but I just had lost it…
I suffer from anxiety and depression, I went to therapy when I used to cry every single time at any hour the second I got up my bed, it helped a little, but to be honest I never told her my truth feelings, then things at home got bad, my thoughts about family went from ‘amazing’ to ‘shit’ , I got sick thanks to a jerk, my grandpa got extremely bad, and I felt like shit… Again therapy helped a little but I continued hidding things from her.
Now I had a crash accident yesterday… I was driving, nothing bad happened but I feel so guilty, I could have hurt my brother or his partner… And although everyone is fine I can’t stop wishing to be dead… I really really hate this… It hurts to breathe, to waking up every morning and live a monotonous life, I hate that the only reason why I’m still here it’s cuz everyone wants me alive… But I’m too coward to kill myself and so I beg every night I don’t wake up in the morning…
I know I need help but no one really thinks I’m this bad… No one really takes me serious when I say that I want to die, and when they get worried I say I was joking cuz I feel stupid making them feel bad or sorry about me, and when I say that I’m depress no ones believes me, besides I don’t know how to tell my family that I don’t wanna be alive anymore, that I don’t care if they love me or they will miss me or anything… I just don’t wanna be here anymore!!! What’s the point??? I’m a big mess since I was 15… 10 years later I still haven’t gotten any better, I keep messing it up over and over again and I dot want to drag anyone into this mess anymore!
For some reason I feel like I’m alive to be everyone’s collection doll, and inside I just feel so empty, useless….
Life will be much better without me.
I have always struggled with anxiety and depression.
It started when I was 10, I had just started middle school.
I was Bullied. Badly.
Everyday after school I would rush out of the school and try SPRINT home so that the bullies wouldn’t catch me.
They usually did, And I usually went home physically and mentally abused.
I was depressed… but I NEVER thought about committing suicide.
It took a while but my parents finally noticed how depressed I was.
I went to counseling.
It helped, but It didn’t stop the bullies.
That February we moved cities to get me away.
My new school was much better.
I made friends, True Friends. I had my first Romance.
My 8th, 9th, and 10th grade years were the best of my life.
I was Happy.
But then this year, my 11th grade year, everything changed.
My friends, while still close, have other friends.
I was left to my own devices.
I am not the most accepting person.
I don’t put up with crap.
That’s what getting bullied taught me.
Other people don’t like it when I call them out for being rude, or for doing stupid things.
“*****” is a common nickname for me.
I get made fun of in all of my classes, and Online.
The few friends I have made have turned on me, but don’t explain why.
They tell me “Its Your Fault. Everything is your fault.”
I go over every situation, every conversation.
I feel confused, frustrated, anxious, and depressed.
I have good parents, and I am a good kid. Â I get in trouble like every other kid.
But my parents add to my confusion, frustration, anxiety, and depression.
In the past 3 months I have had more panic attacks than I can count.
I can’t stop crying.
I just want it to stop.
My best friend turned on me today. She didn’t even explain why. Just called me a “*****” then walked away.
I haven’t stopped crying.
It hurts. Feeling like this.
My chest feels like it is on fire.
And the worst part is That nobody really cares.
I have a stun gun. I have used it on my self several times.
I forget for a while after using it.
I suppose its my way of cutting.
but it doesn’t leave any real marks.
they fade quickly.
It hurts. I can’t keep feeling this.
I can’t keep getting told I am worthless.
I just want it to stop.
I have intentions to be productive for myself. I want to be helpful and do right, for myself and others. I like to impress and make people around me proud. I have a standard to live up to. My family expects my fullest respects, and endlessly utter my continuous responsibilities. My friends just expect me to be there. Usually I’m quiet, but if I’m around long enough most are bound to get a piece of my mind. After that I kind of just do what it takes to blend in. Even though I’m more than use to sticking out. The feeling is like: hope–To be freed. Although, after I’m gone its the last thing I feel.
I’ve reached a barricade in my path. I know that the only way past it is to climb over, but my pack is too heavy and there is too much to lose. I’ve come upon these before and became use to walking around; through the thistle, and poison ivy. I’ve lost so many important things on the way, and got quite a few scars for it. The transition is clear. Its a hard decision to make, yet an easy thing to do. I know that if I throw everything that I’ve deemed useful down, the trail would be easier to travel. I want nothing more than a fresh start. Its difficult for me to openly say I’ve wanted to be freed from all of my restrictions. As if all of my burdens would weep at my departure.
It has always been hard for me to make friends. Most of the people I become close to attempt to take advantage of me, or make a fool of me when I’m not around. The relationships I have now began in elementary school. They’ve been through, or witnessed pretty much everything I’ve succumbed. I cant control it, but when I meet someone new I tend to tear apart why they act how they act and the bends of their personality. Until that’s happened, if they’re not too freaked out by my awkward behavior, I begin to relax and be myself. Cause: post-traumatic stress/Repression anxiety/Depression. All due respect to those I meet, I honestly mean all well in doing so. Even for those that don’t check out. It has helped me not act too rambunctious or even too cautious around those that are short tempered. I’ve realized that I tend to accept those that ignore my beginning behavior because they’re letting me be myself and I feel comfortable. Those are usually the ones that put me in the worst of situations after I let them in to my life. Being hurt comes natural to me.
I am strong. I can Take it. The pain in my chest has moved farther and farther up in my throat, over time. I’ve taught myself to swallow it back, but it keeps getting stronger. When I cry it out I tend to act ruthless (yet respectful to others) and start showing the colors of my life. I suppose you could say I become the center of attention and enjoy life. Not a lot of people tend to stand for this behavior from me for long. I’m getting tired of repressing my colors. My family tells me its jealousy, but I have trouble seeing the great things in my life. & honestly believe everyone deserves to shine and be noticed.
I feel Blind. Every step I take to be myself is a step out of line, to those that are closest to me. I feel like a toy. Something kept around to be entertaining for guests. Â I feel lost. Like a diamond in a pile of coal.
I think about suicide every night before I fall asleep. The only reason I can’t: My nieces and nephews, My brothers, My cousins, My aunts and uncles, My parents. They’ve made it. They are looking forward to it. They are living it.
I want to see the beauty in life. I want to feel the beauty in life. I want to shine without being bullied. Maybe I’m asking too much. I just can’t take it anymore.
This song makes me smile: SixxAM- Life is Beautiful
I’ve read a few stories of sexual abuses, and I can relate. I guess that’s a round about way of putting it. After finding myself with no place to live at eighteen, I joined the Marines. After boot camp, I married my high school sweetheart, who then had an affair with my neighbor while I was at work. Shortly after discovering that, while working through a law suit, I had to then work through no pay due for three months… Begging charities to put food on the table for my wife who was sleeping around behind my back.
I meet a new woman, who’s the love of my life. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted, someone I could respect and trust. Shortly after us marrying, she convinces me to leave the military, and we move to a home away from both of our families. It just so turns out that not only is the area economically depressed, it’s also known for prison releases and meth. To top it off, the love of my life, the woman who had been holding me together through diagnosed major anxiety and depression told me that she no longer loved me, and left. So now I am here alone, with no family, no friends, no wife, mental issues bordering on uncontrollable at times, and a trusty sidearm, good rope.
I told my second wife that I’d never love anyone else after her, that she had my last capacity for love. I guess I just didn’t understand at the time by what means I was willing to keep that promise. Wasted youth. Twenty four and down the tube.
I’m so fucking sick of people wondering why anxiety, depression, and suicide are starting at such a young age. It’s happening because of our fucking schools. They give way too much work all the time and don’t give a single fuck because they don’t have to do it & once a student crumbles under that pressure they pile more work on. I have had to take so many absences lately because my anxiety has gotten so bad with school. I can’t fucking deal with all this and the expectation of being able to get it all done and teach myself everything I need to know to pass these fucking classes.
I just wanted to share with you guys why even though I think life is pointless I still chose to live on
Why live? Is Iâ€™m going to die anyway, if there is nothing after this, if my life has only been eating disorders, social anxiety, depression, ADDâ€¦ Why live if I have already given up on ever having a romantic relationship, let alone a family, because only thinking about it exhaust meâ€¦ Why live if I donâ€™t want to achieve anything?
After all, for a nihilist life is pointless, why all these people keep procreating and suffering? Why not just give up on existence?
Whatâ€™s the point of life?
A question I do not have an answer for; but even if I did or even if I took my life away it wouldn’tÂ change a single but crucial fact: Everything might be a Lie but Pain and Suffering are NOT.
Even if I die people and other living creatures will suffer.
Pigs and chicken will have to live sad existences inside crowded cages. Cows will be cruelly slaughtered without being stunned before.
Kids will be abducted and forced into prostitution, hardÂ laborÂ and war.
Humans will keep hurting and killing other humans.
The pain everyone of this beings experience right now is real, never mind there is a point in existing or not.
If I die now itâ€™d be pretty much the same as if I die in 20 yearsâ€™ time with a degree, material wealth, fame and familyâ€¦.. But if I choose to live on I can put all my efforts into helping one of those existences to stop the suffering, I can help spread that work, maybe that will help to stop the suffering of another 2-3 or even 1000 beings?
And what do I do meanwhile? Enjoy of a beautiful rainbow or eat a tasty red apple or go swimming at the beach with no pressures to be pretty, slim, have a career , money or family or achieve anything I donâ€™t feel like achievingâ€¦. Because after all
Existence is meaningless the pain some people and animals are experiencing right now is real and if something can be done then Iâ€™ll do all I can to change an existence for better.
I am a dreamer, I admit. I am not always realistic. That’s a fact. I followed my dreams. I was never afraid to chase after the crazy ideas in my head. The processes has been painful. I have failed again and again, yet managed to slip by. I watch as my grades hit catastrophic lows and my social life deteriorates. All of my dreams are slipping through my fingers. Why can’t I do what everyone else can? I am intelligent. I am creative. I have endless possibilities. â€¦But that’s all they’ll ever beâ€¦ possibilities. While I could write a poem that would bring you to tears, write an essay that would change your perspective on life, solve an advanced mathematical equation with ease, or retell the entire history of ancient Rome in an amusing and light hearted way, I can’t live a normal life. I can’t walk into a classroom, I can’t turn in assignments, I can’t ask simple questions, I can’t keep track of anything, for fuck’s sake sometimes I can’t even get out of bed. My anxiety and Depression stop me from functioning in everyday life. How will I ever hold down a job? How will I even finish school? How will I face my family? How will I face myself? How will I even survive the next two months? How the fuck am I ever going to reach my dreams? I love school. I love learning. I love class. I even love class work and tests. â€¦But I love them too muchâ€¦ I love them so much that I want myself completely absent from themâ€¦ as I perceive myself as a threat to these things. I am a threat to art. To society. I push away my close friendsâ€¦ I want to shower them with love and affection but that would only cause them to return the favourâ€¦ Pleaseâ€¦ Don’t get involved in this mess I created. The only thing I have ever been good at is breaking hearts and ruining dreams.
I literally have suicidal thoughts in my head all of the time. I can’t even cope anymore, I have no one now me and my boyfriend broke up:( Â I thought he was going to help me get through everything but clearly not. It all started at the beginning of 2012, we started talking and I was so happy but then I Â started to get Â bullied. I then developed an eating disorder, anxiety disorder and depression. I started to cut myself and ended up having cuts all up my wrists and thighs. I would go home and cry for hours. During this time, Â Josh, my boyfriend, would mess me around all the time. This went on for a year. When the bullying had stopped and josh had stopped messing me around, we got into a serious relationship and we were happy. He took away my blades and I started eating a lot more around him but now I’ve relapsed and I’m starving myself again.
Â this is pretty much what I would say…
First of all, I don’t think I can explain why I’ve done this so if you’re hoping to get that from this letter, just know I will probably disappoint you. Second, also know that I have always detested suicide letters. I think it’s a load because I know nothing I say is going to matter. The only reason I can think of for doing this is so that people canâ€™t ***** that â€œShe didnâ€™t even leave a noteâ€ – blah. As if it will make a difference. People will draw their own conclusions and forensic psychologists and the likes will pick it apart anyway. I expect some “expert” whom I’ve never met will analyze it and deduce that I’m a nut. I’m sure it will be found that I have at least one personality disorder (eye roll).
I wish you could be me. Maybe then you would understand. If you could be me for a day – and then go back to your own life, maybe you would understand. (Those I know think you already understand but I think being me would surprise you.)
If you could take what I say – for my word and thoughts – and not try to analyze it, you might understand me better. If you try, really try, to connect on an emotional level maybe you would be able to feel it… my anguish. Maybe you could feel the anxiety and know the resulting depression. Maybe you could feel the intensity and the depth in which I connect with everything and everyone around me. Maybe you would understand how tormented I am.
When I donâ€™t have anxiety, Iâ€™m pretty good at being rational. But when I have anxiety, itâ€™s like being shackled to the back of a speeding train that I cannot outrun. I wish you could feel it – my anxiety and depression. I promise it would bring you to a depth of pain that touches your soul in a way that youâ€™ll never want to experience it again.
I’ve pounded myself for a long time about how I should be able to snap out of this. To “grow up” and (to simply) not let things bother me. I blame myself and think I’m weak for not being able to do that. Even now. Even as I type – I feel like such a weak person. But, itâ€™s who Iâ€™ve always been and is how my brain chemistry works and I donâ€™t know how to â€˜fixâ€™ it. I struggle to communicate and end up isolating myself because of it.
If you could really understand all this and not just think you do, maybe your thoughts of me right now would be different and you would know that there wasn’t anything you (or anyone) could do to help me. You would see and understand what it’s like for meâ€¦ and that maybe I wasnâ€™t weak as much as I was helpless. Some things just “are” and there’s nothing anyone can do to change them.
Sigh. I know you can’t. Not now, but you will one day. You may be sick or just old and tired, but you’ll know. You’ll finally know what it’s like to feel so helpless and unloved and in so much pain that youâ€™ll to want death to come.
I think most people believe they have some reason to be angry when someone kills themself. I think that’s selfish. Why is it that people want others to stay when they are so miserable?
Here’s a thought: If you have an illness, people hate to see you suffer. I’ve heard people say, “Death would be the best thing for so and so.” But when you are depressed no one seems to understand. I get that depression isn’t a terminal illness… but maybe it is. I mean, how long does one have to suffer with depression and anxiety before it begins to affect their overall health? Just because it’s an emotional illness, doesn’t mean it’s any less chronic or painful.
People think that death is only for the sick or old, but you have to understand… it’s not about death. It never is. It’s about life. Or, more so, the quality of life. And no one has any right to judge someone else’s quality of life. No one can possibly know the totality of someone’s thoughts and (most especially) experiences. They weren’t there to see, hear, smell, taste, feel, or know what someone else has experienced. And… no one can imagine, either.
Sigh. I’m sorry Iâ€™ve disappointed and hurt you. I really am and if I could have stayed, I would have. Just for you. Just for those of you who actually feel an ounce of pain over my loss. You have to understand though…
Life is a journey. Right now, as I write this, I don’t know how life all started. I don’t have that answer. I don’t know if it’s about a God or a Big Bang or something else. I don’t. You don’t. You might think you do, but until you get there… you won’t. I’ll know but I won’t be able to tell you. Maybe I am quiet. Maybe I am just… dead. Quiet.
Honestly though, I hope not. I hope there is a God and that he knows my pain. My fear. My hurt. My regret. I hope He (or Whomever) forgives me (and so do you).
If I could talk to you now, I’d tell you not to be sad. You’re still here. You can do it. You are doing it. You’re lucky. You can’t say you’re not. Everyone thinks they have it tough… and they do. It’s just that for whatever reason, some people aren’t as resilient as others. You’re resilient. You’re at Zen with life.
You see, there those of us who can’t be at Zen. No matter how hard we try (FYI, I smile as I write this, so it’s okay), Zen just doesn’t work for us. For me or people like me. It doesn’t matter why. I sometimes think (smiling) that some people are here to be targets. To be the ones everything seems to happen to. The ones who struggle and fight back… for so long.
If you believe in God, then, maybe He makes us that way. Sometimes, I think He (smile) makes certain people to teach everyone else. What if…? What if that was my reason… for being here? Just to affect others?
Yeah, I know. It’s a crazy thought. (And, I’m sure there’s some psycho-babbly something in that statement because it sure felt loaded when I typed it).
So, you always have to remember, the world works the way it does because it’s at Zen. It works because everything in it (and not in it) is just the way it’s supposed to be.
This is supposed to be.
(I feel like this is where I should tell everyone how much I love them, blah, blah, blah but you and they should know that. Because I do. And, I’m really sorry I’ve hurt you.)
So, (smile)… See you on the Other Side.
I’m 13. I am severely depressed. Have been since kindergarten. No joke. I fake smiles every day so no one will realize what’s going on inside my head. I have 1 thing keeping me alive right now. His name is Monte and he is my boyfriend. I love him so much. And I owe him everything. If not for him I would be dead or constantly cutting. I have cut three times, times but they weren’t deep. I just recovered from two eating disorders. Anorexia and bulimia. I’m on medication for anxiety and depression. But all I want to do is take the whole bottle and die. I almost did it last week. The only.reason didn’t is because I didn’t think I had enough to kill myself and if I fail then I’m on death watch. I imagine what would happen if I killed myself every night. And every time nobody really cares. There’s one or two people who care, but the rest of the world just moves on. I need help or I am going to kill myself soon. i just can’t do It anymore.
Who am I? I was born November 22nd, 1997. My parents?.. Ha, no. I didn’t have any. They abandoned me in a apartment all the time so they could go buy drugs! Why? I don’t know. Both of them had been in and out of jail multiple times. One day, while they were off getting drugs, I was at the apartment and neighbors heard me crying. They called the police… The police knocked on the door. No answer. They kicked down the door. I was taken away. I remember being in a cop car starring out the windows while it moved. I had no idea where I was going. I’m not sure where I went to first. I remember being in a foster home. The people there would refuse to feed me at times. It was horrible. There were 3 kids there who weren’t foster kids. They were 12, 14 & 17. I was 4. They were mean to me. “I just felt so alone and didn’t know if anyone cared or not.” I was taken out of that foster home and put in a different one. I was there for awhile but then they couldn’t take care of me anymore. Their friends adopted me. Age 5-10 were okay. Around 5th grade, things got bad. I lost my bestfriend. We got in a argument about something and refused to talk to each other. 6th grade, I had a boyfriend. We really liked each other. But we kept dating, then breaking up (about 3 times). The last time, I wasn’t taking him back. His bestfriend liked me and I didn’t like him. So, both of them kept calling me a slut, whore, ***** etc. I started to get really depressed. But I wouldn’t tell anyone. At a point in time, I had no real friends. It sucked. In 7th grade, those two boys and I got along and became friends. But, then I got bullied again. By two girls that were new to my school. They would harass me. Just rude. I talked to the principle about it and everything got settled. 8th grade… I moved to a different school. I made some friends, and also there were a couple of people that didn’t like me for some reason. I don’t know why. One girl was trying to fight me. So, I spoke up to my counselor about it. And the girl never spoke to me again. In April during 8th grade, I got in a go-kart accident. I ended up with a severe head concussion. I slept all day and was lonely. I couldn’t do anything. Everything just hurt. I couldn’t play soccer …that devastated me. In August, I got cleared from my concussion. Yay! Oh, crap. Here comes September 15th. I’m in 9th grade. Second concussion..didn’t see that coming. I was playing soccer, and a girl tripped, hip checked me, & stepped on my head. I hit the back of my head on the ground. I was brought to the ER and told I had a head concussion. I started to become really depressed. I wanted my life to end at that very moment. In October, my life almost did end. It was October 19th that I overdosed on Tylenol and Ibuprofen. I had a suicide note written on my hand. It said I was gonna starve myself and overdose. That’s exactly what I did that day. My parents called the police. The police said that it was better to take me to the hospital then to be sorry for me dying. At that point, no one actually knew if I had taken any medication because I refused to speak. They took me to the hospital…there was a lot of talking about what to do. I was placed in a Psych Unit for a week. Most of my time there, I sat in a corner of my room and cried. My family came to visit me almost everyday I was there. My bestfriend would call to cheer me up. Still, I was alone. I was scarred. I didn’t know what to expect while being in a mental hospital. Finally, I got discharged. I was still depressed but I was okay. November 27th…I was at school. I hadn’t gotten much sleep the weekend before. I was in 4th hour and I fell asleep. No one could wake me up. I could hear people yelling trying to get me up but I was lost. It was like I couldn’t understand anything that was being said. I was brought to the nurses off where I then started to have seizure like symptoms. I was rushed to the hospital by ambulance. I don’t recall the ambulance ride. My principle supposedly rode with me to the hospital. I met with my moms at the hospital. I had to get an IV put in my arm. It hurt. I needed fluids in my body because I was dehydrated. I got transferred to another hospital, by ambulance. I was admitted to an EEG Unit. I had to stay there for 3 days. They put wires in my head. I hated it, it hurt. The wires would track my brain wave to see if I was actually having seizures. There were 4 cameras in my room..they recorded my every move. I felt trapped. There, I had suicidal thoughts. My concussion was causing way too much stress. And I wasn’t getting any better. When I got out of the hospital, the doctors said that I was having non-epileptic seizures. My body was trying to release stress and having those seizure like movements was the way my body let it all out. As of this very day (1/3/13), I am still not cleared from my concussion. I still have suicidal thoughts. And I don’t think this concussion will get any better for me…
Hi, my name is Tatyana, people call me tatty. As I was growing up everything seemed normal, mom always thought I had ADHD and everyone else said I was normal. But I wasn’t. My mom met the man ad her dreams, so she thought. He was nice, to her. Me.. Well he’d beat the hell out of me. He’s make me bleed, he smashed me so hard he got my blood on the wall and on my bed, I was only 5 years old. I’ve been in 8 foster homes. They were all horrible. Tryed killing myself when I was 7 I over dosed on my inhalers, then when I was 8 I started cutting my fingers with glass. They’d get pretty deep. Grades 5-7 I got made fun of and bullied cause I was bigger. I started making myself throw up. I started cutting my wrists they only got deeper and deeper. I have to get stitches 5 times. Should have been more times but I hide it from my parents. This year I tried killing myself so many times that I lost count, probably more then 30 times though. I over dosed myself on concerta twice. The first time I took 1188 mg’s I took 22 of my 54’s. I was admitted to the iwk children’s hospital. In the mental health ward. I was scared. Now I still haven’t changed I have thoughts in my head telling me to kill myself 24/7 I might listen to them soon. I now got diagnosed with anxiety, public anxiety and major depression.
not the depression or the personality disorders… the anxiety
I really could just finish this now. All the bullshit from others, self loathing, anxiety and depression could be gone with just one slit. The knife is in my hand, no one is here to stop me, and even if they were, I doubt they would with how they feel about me now. I really want to do it and get it over with, but I just can’t seem to do it. God knows why, I mean it’s for the best, so why can’t I? Maybe somewhere inside I think it will get better, or maybe I am scared of failing that just like everything else, or I could just be a coward. I don’t know anymore…
Anxiety, depression, Bulimia Nervosa and cronically alone.
After seeking treatment for Comorbid major depressive disorder and Bulimia Nervosa I though I would change and consequently my life would change.Â Reality is a whole lot different. I constantly have suicidal thoughts, high levels on anxiety and extremely low moods.
I find my self in the grips of yet another bad Bulimia time.Â On a good night I eat dinner once and loose it once, on a bad night I might eat 3 and loose 3.Â I do it not to be thin but to ease the anxiety and stress and as an avenue for self harm.Â I am overweight so really that should be my motivation.
My depression has driven me from my friends, saying no enough times pretty much stops all invites and socialising.Â Its very hard to say yes to invites when your head is saying no before the invite has even been finished spoken.Â I removed myself from my very meager social life because it was so tiring to put on the enjoyment face and not be miserable around people.Â Working was taking enough out of meÂ so that I no longer had the strength and resolve to socialise.
I am 33 and I don’t deserve a BF or husband.Â I do not see any reasons why someone would want to spend their lives with me.Â No one in their right mind would want to be seen with a fat, ugly, unhappy lump like me.Â I have come to this conclusion though past experiences, ridicule from complete strangers and that I can’t even keep friends so how the hell am I supposed to maintain a relationship.
I have so many things I could blab on about with my deficiencies but I really don’t have the energy as tonight was a bad food night.
Thanks for reading anyway
I don’t know where to start. All i know is at 29 i should be further in my life than this. I’ve had SEVERE anxiety issues since i was in elementary school. I had to quit school and get my GED because of it. I went to cosmetology school and didn’t take my test because i was too nervous and was scared i was going to make an a** out of myself. Anyway, my dad who has cancer pays my rent. They denied me for food stamps so i have no food and no way to pay my bills. I’ve tried to work but because of my social anxiety, GAD and clinical depression has always leaded me to quit!! I have no children and no boyfriend. At this point i’m also struggling with my sexuality. I have no interest in any man what so ever!!! My sister whom was 14 in 2000 died in a car accident. We had an apartment together and she was my best friend, daughter and sister all in one. It was great to feel atleast needed when she was here. I blame myself for not being there and blame myself often for her dying. The guilt makes my heart literally hurt and leaves me breathless. I miss her so much i could just vomit!! I don’t see any hope. Every time i try to get out i have severe panic attacks!! I’ve had them since i was 15 and i take way too much xanax which i get from my dad. I tried to go back to college but i still have a $800 loan from my last school i have to pay before i can do that. I’ve lost all hope. My mom, my dad and bro are all sick of me!! I’m at the point where the depression is so bad it’s a struggle to get out of bed to use the bathroom!!!! I really believe within me that people would be better off without me here. The suicidal thoughts are what get me through the day! That i can actually escape all the feelings of heartache, guilt and worthlessness. I really hate myself. I have no talent, no intelligence and no life! Can anyone relate to panic attacks and clinical depression destroying their lives?!!!