I just wanted to say I came closer the other day than ever before. I never attempted, only thought and spoke and wrote and read about dying every day for 30 years. But Thursday I made initial covert arrangements to obtain in a hurry what I would need. It has been a relief to know I can get it done when I want. It’s empowering.
Lately, I’very been putting together a bucket list of things I would do if tomorrow didn’t exist or there would be no tmorrow very soon. Some activities appear normal while some are batsh*t insane. Deeds where the worst of my actions would leave me shame or embarrassment, or the greatest acts of kindness would present some of the best things I could offer those around me. Most things I have on that list show how selfish I can be, and the remainder show how selfless I am depending on the scenario. I suppose, if I am selectively selfless, wouldn’t that still make me selfish since there has to be a condition that benefits me in some way where I’m not affected negatively? Nonetheless, I know I’m depressed whether I’m at work, at home, getting groceries, talking to women who like the brooding version of me for who knows what reason, in the middle of an argument, driving home, walking home, masturbating, eating lunch, using the bathroom, having emotionless sex with women who will or will have cheated on me, etc. And during some of the most mundane of activities, at times, I just want it all to just end, and, sometimes, imagine how it would end.
The strange part about envisioning the end is contemplating what I would miss or regret not doing currently. The end makes everything seem more important than I see it now because of all of the “what if” scenarios that have no defined resolution. So, just to give context to the “what if” scenarios I have in my life, the following lists some of the things I feel I need to do before the end of my life (please note, some I’ve atempted yet never finished):
1. Tell a woman “I love you” to have a meaningful, everlasting relationship (the first half I’ve done. The second part has yet to happen with a lady who won’t cheat on me)
2. Have a normal conversation with my parents without shedding light on disappointments of the past (I still have yet to reunite with my parents after not speaking to them in a very long time)
3. Audition for a televised, talent contest and actually make it on a show (So far, since singing has plagued my life and I’m curious to the point where I’ve auditioned multiple times for various programs and have been beyond preliminary rounds, I have yet to make it on live television)
4. Travel to the land of my birth, and reside there for more than a year (So far, I’ve planned yet haven’t made the attempt)
5. Start up and run my own company (Due to my current budget and employment status, this won’t happen anytime soon)
6. Write songs, record songs, and get the songs distributed via radio play or ITunes (I’ve been writing and/or recording here and there over the years, have been told what I have so far is decent, but I have yet to overcome that fear and disappointment of the material either being unappealing or extremely depressing to where any messages I have lead to someone else’s demise)
7. Win the lottery and never work again (This activity of chance is attainable, if only I could see the silver lining in actually putting in my bet without thinking of all the useful sh*t I could buy and how much I’d waste not winning, or how the odds are stacked too high to even win, or how my luck isn’t that great)
8. Participate in a high speed chase with either the Sheriff’s Department, Police Department, Highway Patrol, or all three at the same time until running out of gas (Every time I’m having a bad day, the thought crosses my mind once I see any law enforcement vehicle on the freeway or at a traffic light)
9. Learn and Master a Martial Art (I’ve learned several over the course of my life, so far, but have yet to officially achieve the rank of master in order to be qualified to teach any particular style)
10. Truly make love to a woman and bring a life into this world (I’ve never had sex without protection and I don’t plan to any time soon, and I fear I may never find that special someone to share this honor with)
The list goes on after that, and varies in significance, but one thing they all have in common is that I’ve been half or partially committed to any one thing because of that fear of failure or fear of losing something to gain nothing. And with the list going on, I run into that dichotomy of yearning for things I have yet to complete, and of constructing a laundry list of regrets and character flaws I can’t seem to get passed.
What makes it all crazy is when I lean towards the side of regret and what’s missing to make me as horrible as I can be, what makes me a failure, what makes time just drag my legs along with it, and what makes everything seem like a really long chore or labor, is thinking of the end method where I won’t have to feel anything, which goes as follows (please note I’ve either thought of or attempted all of what is listed):
1. Death by jumping in front of a moving vehicle (I’ve attempted this a few times over the course of my life, yet second guessed the decision and never went through with it)
2. Death by drowning (I’ve attempted this once, while falling asleep and dreaming in a swimming pool, and I felt myself panicking enough to wake up, spitting water everywhere trying to catch my breath with the shock of being alive)
3. Death by hanging (I’ve attempted this once, but due to my weight at the time, I broke the branch I thought was thick enough to hold the rope and support my weight, and fell to the ground)
4. Death by drinking some kind of poison, or mixing Vodka and sleeping pills and Vicodin and multiple medications (I’ve thought and dreamt of this and have yet to do this)
5. Death by falling from a really tall building or skyscraper (I’ve thought of this, have yet to do it)
6. Death by self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head or chest (I’ve contemplated this randomly after going to shooting ranges, but have yet to commit this act)
7. Death by electrocution in the bathtub (I’ve thought of this various times while taking a shower or bath)
8. Death by fire (I’ve thought of pouring gasoline all over my body, locking myself in a room with nothing in it, and lighting myself on fire, but have yet to do this)
9. Death by suffocation (I’ve thought about this, but have yet to commit the act)
10. Death by self-inflicted stabbing (I’ve though about this randomly while cooking, but have yet to do this)
Just like the other list of sh*t I’d like to complete before my demise, the list of the possible endings also goes on and on and on, like a broken record. Just like the things I have yet to finish or regret not doing, I’m just as half committed in getting closer to the end of my lousy, depressing, miserable life cycle. With this half committed attitude, this all makes me wonder if I’m more afraid of living or more fearful of dying. I guess I’ll truly never know until I reach that point.
This is my first time posting on this site. I have been sitting here all day reading different posts from people and debated on whether I was going to post or not. Well, here I am. I will try not to bore you.
I have battled with depression since before I was a teenager. However, up till about two years ago I never thought about taking my own life. Now, that’s all I can think about.
My life has not always been easy. I was raped as a child by my uncle. My dad left when I was very young. When I was a teenager, I got into a lot of trouble. Boys, drugs, drinking, sex. At the age of 22 I got pregnant and had no business becoming a mother. However, after I had my daughter life kind of stabilized. I still was a very heavy drinker, but my life was some what under control.
Since I was a teenager, I have been on so many different types of anti-depressants. Some of them worked at times, so of them made it worse at time. Two years ago, they put me on a new kind and that is when I started having thoughts of killing myself. They were so bad that after talking to my DR one day, she admitted me to the hospital for observation. I was planning on taking a whole bottle of sleeping pills.
After being there for a week, I was released and sent home as being diagnosed as bi-polar. The next two years is a whirl wind of emotions and decisions. During all this I had to keep up my “fake” happy self for the sake of my daughter and friends/family.
I was on a ton of drugs. I think I was taking 4 different anti-depressants, 2 anxiety meds, and some mood stabilizers. It was so much… and I felt like I had no feelings. I was numb just going through the motions of each day. There were many days that I thought about taking more pills and just go lay down and go to sleep forever. But I knew I had my daughter and she was my only reason for living.
But one day I finally did it. It was like I didn’t even think about it. I grabbed two different kinds of pills and pored a handful of each in my hand and took them. My thought was that it would take a while for anything to happen, so I drove my daughter to school and started to head to work. Well, the last thing I remember is taking my daughter to school. The next three days were a blur.
I woke up three days later laying in a hospital bed with a broken arm, very badly bruised and very sore. I had driven my car head first into oncoming traffic. After taking me to the ER, they said I admitted to trying and killing myself. So i was admitted to a psych ward for three days. I don’t remember anything.
Once coming home, of course I had to come up with a different story about what happened so to not make my family look bad. My mom told me this story to tell people. This was 3 months ago and I have been living a lie. I wish I died in that accident. I wish I never woke up. I search ever day for ways that I can end my life, but can’t get the guts to attempt it again.
I am unhappy, everyday. I just wish that my daughter didn’t see me so unhappy. I wish I was the mom to her that she deserves.
These thoughts of ending my life never end. I think about it all the time. I have been to DR’s to help, but it never really did. So now I am trying to deal with it on my own. I want to be better. I want to be happy for my daughter but that is the only reason. Which you would like would be good enough, right?
I guess time will tell. But how do I make these feelings go away. I stopped taking all medication because it was doing more harm then good. Please, I am just looking for advise. I want to change, if not for me but for my daughter.
To see if Nidda will reply to the email i sent the day she attempted. Ive been checking for days. Twix isn’t going to post again. Nidda isnt going to email or post again. I feel so empty. Not only that some girl at work was killed by her boyfriend and then he killed himself. I didn’t know her but its still sad. I’ve been shoveling food down my mouth. I haven’t worked out much this week either. I dont want to rehash the habit of empty emotional eating. I’ve lost a lot of weight and dont want to undo it but continue. All i can do is eat though. I feel alone pointless and like suicide would be a better option im living for more lonliness and i shouldn’t be here. I don’t want to live any more.
I succumbed to my depression and 2 days ago attempted to end my life….
a bottle of bourbon and a bottle of pain pills didn’t do the trick.
I lived………feel like shit though…..
whens this hurt gonna end?
I’ve only attempted once, but no one knew. What happens when you attempted to end your suffering? Everything from how did you feel to know you weren’t successful, your hospital stay and mental health evaluation? And how your friends, family, co-workers and employer responded and acted in the days, weeks and months after. And your thoughts based on how everyone treated or continues to treat you from a suicide attempt. And did things get better or worse after? Thanks!
If you want to tell details (means of exit etc) you can, but not necessary.
What’s keeping you alive to this day? What’re you living for and how did things get better for you?
Are you glad to be alive today?
Also, under what circumstances pushed you into the attempt?
- My name Is Erin Mitchell and I just join this site
- Okay so my suicide story~ I been suicide for a while now I always wanted to kill myself but I only attempted it a few times. I been through a lot.
- I have a really close friend killed himself a couple of months ago
- I get bullied at school almost everyday. People call me some bad names I should have never been called.
- I need to talk to someone before I really kill myself
… and at the end of my rope. I don’t know where to go or what to do. I have attempted suicide twice and am clearly too inept and too much of a coward to end my life properly. I have been dealing with depression, anxiety and suicidal thoughts for fifteen years and have been on a variety of medications and have seen three different therapists to try and fix the problem. Today, I was told my feelings were (verbatim) “bullshit”; followed by a laugh and the shake of a head. The appointment ended with her saying “you make me laugh”. Thanks Paula.
I can barely function despite being able to put up a really good front. I go to work all day and then come home and sob. In the last year and a half, I have come out of an abusive relationship, developed an eating disorder, attempted suicide and become a total recluse (with the exception of my job where I have very little contact with people). Every day seems longer than the last and I can’t stand it anymore. I go to counseling to try and get help for all of this only to come home and cry because I am so frustrated by her not taking me seriously.
Everything in my life has become a contradiction. I want to die more than anything, but I am too afraid to “pull the trigger”. I want to talk to someone, but I don’t trust anyone. I never want to get close to another human being so long as I live, but I feel lonely all the time. Seeking help from all of these “professionals” hasn’t helped at all and neither have any of the lifestyle changes I have made. I am crumbling and I don’t know who to go to or what to do. I believe with every fiber of my being that none of these problems are going to go away until the day I die.
So the guy I am talking just told me he is also suicidal ! Last night he attempted to take his life 🙁 I am a little bummed because I don’t know if I can help him. Shit I can’t even help myself. I feel like like shit for wanting to just leave out his life . idk what am I suppose to do o.O
I’ve been planning on killing my self for a long time I have attempted before but never truely wanted to die but this time I really do I have got 32 ibruprfen will this kill me ?
I remember when the thought of cutting myself scared me. Suicide had crossed my mind once or twice, but i never contemplated it seriously. Now, I cut nearly every day, and I’ve attempted suicide twice. I look in the mirror and i don’t know who I am anymore, I used to be truly happy but now I’m just numb and empty. No one notices the bruises on my body put there by someone else, maybe they do notice annd don’t seem to care.
I feel as though I’m only living for everyone else. My kids, my husband.
I’ve struggled my whole life with abuse, depression, self hate, anxiety.
I’ve attempted suicide 4 times, and managed to somehow still be alive. Another set of failures.
I can’t tell anyone how I really feel, and I just came here to let it out.
I mean, like really, this is a joke.
I am 16. 16 damn it. I used to dream of how awesome my life would be at 16. This is just ridiculous .
I find no pleasure at anything. My friends are just people that I hanged out with at some point in my life and our friendship dragged out, people that I have come to absolutely despise. I despise pretty much anyone my age really. Everyone is so happy or relaxed or something, as if life is a fun little game.
I have some very firm beliefs : Suicide is stupid , but more importantly , it’s a way out, it’s giving up. And I wont give up, that I can promise. But really , this is not how any of this was supposed to be. My best friend attempted suicide at 13, and from then on every single thing in my life has crumbled to pieces . My grades are great, but I couldnt care less about that. I dont like the people I hang out with and I cant make new friends due to my inabillity to trust people.I feel vain and empty, I feel like none of all this matters .
The only thing that excites me is traveling , and I probably wont travel anywhere till I am 60 , so there goes that.
Why ? Why is this happening ?
when did it come to be such a joke? growing up watching movies with happy teens and all that and thinking we will be happy as well?
Talking about the good moments of my childhood forces me to be both nostalgic and incredibly sad at the same time. I wish things were that simple because even though I didn’t have a particularly easy childhood, a child’s problems are so much less complex. Today I decided to text a friend that I haven’t spoken to in a while. We met through a therapy group and somehow we clicked, even though neither of us are the most vocal of people. But I feel like we understood the pain in each other’s eyes, in a way no one else could. We never told each other to “keep hanging on” or that it “gets better” because we knew these words were for people that didn’t have a chronic pain. She has attempted suicide more times than I can count. And despite all that I didn’t contact her for weeks…..I am a horrible person. I’m so fucked. You can’t comprehend the vast amount of fucked that I encompass. But I finally texted her because I needed someone to talk to. HA. What a piece of shit I am. The last time I contacted her about a month ago, I tried to hint to her that I was going to jump into the abyss and she asked me if I needed to go the hospital. She had just got out of the hospital from attempted suicide. I thought she understood me…I thought she would know that that’s the last thing on this goddamm world that I needed. It’s not her fault..she was doing what any normal person would do. So I distanced myself. Haha….what a fucking piece of shit I am….I’m so fucking done. I’m only hurting people more by isolating. But I can’t stop myself from finishing this. What if she is dead? And I was too selfish to contact her…..what if she’s dead….
So what if I’m dead.
I don’t know what to do with myself anymore. My dad threw a knife at me and my mom tried to strangle me. On top of that, my friends just abandoned me! This is the second time in less than three days I have attempted to commit suicide. And, with any luck, I will be gone after tonight.
In March 2014, I was sent to the mental ward for suicidal thoughts. Here is my experience.
One day, I had an appointment with my doctor, during which we discussed my depression. He asked me if I ever attempted suicide. I said yes, and told him about the previous day, when I had tried to hang myself but was interrupted by my dad. My doctor told me to promise not to try again. My response was, “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” With that, he walked out the room without a word. He was gone for a long time-at least half an hour. Suddenly, the door opened and there were two paramedics with a gurney. They took me downstairs to an ambulance, which took me to the nearest emergency room. I was wheeled into a small, windowless room that had a bed and a single chair. My blood pressure was taken, I changed into a hospital gown, and I took a urine test. My dinner was a tuna sandwich and some juice. I was in that room for at least six hours. My dad was with me most of the time, talking about life. He then left to pick up my mom from work. They returned 45 minutes later. Not long later, the nurse came in and told us that there was an open bed at a nearby psychiatric ward. I said goodbye to my parents, and I was wheeled to the ambulance.
It was almost midnight when I arrived at the hospital. The nurse took away my belongings and locked them up.
My five-day stay was quite a boring one. Breakfast was at 7, lunch at 12, and dinner at 6. The food was okay; not horrible but not that great. Every morning after breakfast, there was a morning meeting that covered the same thing every day- the rules for visiting hours and activities planned for the day.
Attendance at the day’s activities, which ranged from AA meetings to karaoke, was fortunately not enforced strictly. Most of my time there, I lied in bed, wondering how I let my life get to this point. I was assigned a counselor, who I spoke with every day. I was started on an antidepressant regimen, which continued after my stay at the hospital.
Unlike how it is usually portrayed, the psych ward wasn’t full of “crazy people.” There were people there for a variety of reasons, ranging from attempted suicide by cop to alcoholism/addiction. Sure, there were an unfortunate few who were “not all there,” but most of the people I met there were just ordinary people.
They were very cautious; they went through your belongings and removed anything that could be potentially dangerous. And at night, they checked on you every 15 minutes while you were sleeping.
After a few days, I decided that I had enough of it, so I lied to the nurses and said I was no longer considering suicide. Surprisingly, they simply took my word for it, I filled out some paperwork, and I was released.
Overall, my experience there was just plain alright. I felt cared for by the staff, but, evidently, it was not enough to save me, as I am still suicidal to this day.
I was sexually abused as a child. I was physically, verbally and emotionally abused through childhood and my early teens. I’m super screwed up. I can’t control my emotions and I get depressed. Suicide seems very glamorous to me. I’ve thought about it ever since I was 7 or 8 years old. Life terrifies me unless I’m drinking or doing drugs. I’m a cutter. I’ve never attempted suicide because I always chicken out in the end, but I’m getting closer to the brink.
So im sequoia.
my fight and my story might not be as bad as yours, but sadness is sadness. depression is depression. there shouldnt be a competition of who has it worse. so if you’re gonna tell me my problems arent shit, get the hell out.
Hiya c: im a 13 year old girl.
and a fucked up family.
soooo here’s my story.
aye you sexy butt hole (;
wtf is wrong with me cx.
it started when i was 7. my parents were in the middle of a divorce, and i didnt know it at the time but my mom was addicted to drinking and smoking. she always used to put me in bed, and then go outside to ‘ talk to the moon ‘
when she was really drinking. anyways,
her and my dad lived across the street from each other ( i know wtf. ) and my mom came over once with a broken leg from trying to break in to get me once, and started banging on our door. it scared the shit out of me & i didnt know wtf was going on…next thing you know my parents are fighting. like
then tht ended .
( sorry its hard to focus so lets skip to third grade )
so i moved to another school bc my dad got full custody and we moved in the devils house ( my step mom )
and it was pure hell. i was made fun of bc my race. im white and mexican. so what. suck a pineapple if you have a problem with that. (:
nd yeah i got made fun of for my clothes, and what i did and stuff and i was alone .
but it didnt really affect me but now you know…
thinking does shit.
( sorry for my language ._. )
basically through 3rd-6th grade i was made fun of. and part of 7th.
then junior high…
i hung out with the ” nerds ” but i met some ” cool ” kids.
i started to hangout with them and they really did change me.
but at first, none of them liked me bc i was weird…i admit it i was a creep cx.
but tht changed. and im glad it did.
they called me slut, whore, ratchet, ect.
but i didnt care. now i do.
i started to learn about it…it started to hurt….to the point where i couldnt eat, sleep, or even cry.
no one knew what was wrong. i kept it all in because i was afraid. i didnt know what to do or what to say. i was worried about what they would say to me all the time. i’d think, ” are they right…? ” i’d start to believe it.
thats when things got bad.
i remember my first time i self harmed.
i was in the shower shaving, and crying at a comment on instagram,
i saw my razor’s blades. and thought about cutting for the first time. i was scared, but i took it, and slashed my wrist twice.
i let out a sigh…it felt amazing. i felt happy.
thats not good ._.
so i started cutting with blades out of the razor. every day.
there was no end.
people started to notice blood.
i never washed my cuts clean bc i wanted to see it. i wanted to see the damage i had done.
someone finally took my arm, and they saw.
it tore them apart. i could see the pain.
it was my friend i’d known since kinder.
she started to cry.
alot of people started to get worried…
god knows why…
then things got a bit more bright.
i met someone…
lets call him dildo mammoth cx
so i thought dildo was hot asf. and i had a major crush on him.
we started going out. and it was amazing. i felt so happy. he was everything..
then we fell apart.
fuck, i didnt know what love was
i didnt know.
we stopped going out, and stop talking.
months and months later, to about two months ago, he asked me out again.
i said yes like an idiot and we dated for three weeks .
until he started asking for sex.
i finally realized what he had wanted this entire time, i wasnt important.
he didnt love me,
he did love my ass tho
and my boobs
three weeks i attempted suicide..
i got a trip to the hospital.
i got picked up at school bc i did it in the morning and i told the counselor.
she called them and when we were driving away,
dildo was walking to second period and he was all i saw, he was the last thing i saw before they carried me away.
no one knew it was me at first.
no one knew i was the girl who attempted.
i posted on ig, it was me. and i wasnt scared.
and i got 3,000 people commenting about me.
people from the high schools in my town,
everyone ” cared ”
well guess what?
do they care now.?? hahaha nope,
since then ive attempted 12 times.
o n e
k n o w s
and thats how its always gonna be.
So I am new here, I’ve read some of your stories and from what I’ve read you all seem like such strong, kind, loving caring people.
I know people have this attitude towards suicide and the word strong does not come up very often.
However yes you are strong!
You have made it this far and I hope with all my heart something will come to you to help you through your dark times and help you towards a light (not particularly a religious one, but something that will give you hope to carry on).
I guess my story is a survival story, I am now 26, at the age of 20 I was admitted to a psychiatric ward for an attempted overdose. By this time this was my third hospitalisation for attempted over dose.
That third time was honestly what I had hoped would be my last, I honestly could not see any future for myself, I was stuck in this bell jar and I could not see anything beyond it. I remember the morning I woke up early, I was so distraught I could not sleep and it was all I was thinking about. I drove my car down to the beach had a full bottle of Valium and I took all of them, I was also taking stilnox at the time and luckily I had none on me as I had finished them previously. I sat in my car considering whether or not I should go down to the water for a swim.
I didn’t go, I passed out in my car only to wake up realising I was still here, I felt so stupid, I regretted not having stilnox, I regretted not going for that swim.
But now I don’t, I still wonder what would have happened should those two factors had of been different. I was admitted to hospital to the psychiatric ward where I met a friend whom was in a similar position to myself, we became very close and are still friends to this day. We do not talk all the time but if either of us are not in the right frame of mind we will reach out for each others help.
If you are wondering why I was suicidal and what lead me there I will tell you, compared to everyone’s story I feel mine is insignificant in comparison. I grew up with an abusive alcoholic mother, living with her for years had taken its toll on me by the time I had gone to live with my Father. As a teenager living with my Father I was experiencing depression I could not explain, which in turn led to very self destructive behaviour, which my Father could not particularly handle. By then he had met a new wife and started a new family, he decided that he wanted to move away with them and I moved in with an Aunt.
Still acting out in self destructive behaviour, consuming drugs and alcohol which did not help my situation at all, I was severely depressed which let to my attempted overdose.
I have been diagnosed with depression since the age of 16, if memory serves me correctly. It is honestly something I battle with everyday, although some days are better than others.
After that last attempt at taking my life, I thought I had hurt enough people that I love and I can’t do this anymore.
Since then I have seeked solace in the things that I love and am currently studying to become a Social Worker, I am not there yet but hopefully one day will be qualified.
I came to this site today because I was struggling, having depression and a low self esteem makes it difficult to have close relationships with people as they do not understand what is going through my head and honestly 99% of the time neither do I.
I question everyday if I will ever be happy and honestly I don’t know if I ever will be, no amount of counselling or antidepressants has helped, I still have the dark thoughts in my mind but I fight them every day and will hopefully not give up!
Thank you for reading my story if you could suffer through the novel I’ve written.
I hope I can be an ear to listen to any of you wanting to talk and hopefully offer some support.
Please remember every life has value and every person can contribute something beautiful to the world!