im a sophmore in highschool, and i have gone through a lot with my mom. My background story is fine nothing wrong as a kid my parents are still together blah blah. But it started in 7th grade. My mom started making me more and more angry as the days went on.. It didnt get real bad until 8th grade though. My mom was driving me to the point where i was suicidal. I didnt want to live here any longer. I attempted, was too scared and gave that attempt up, then about a week later, one of my former good friends decided to take her own life without telling anyone she was struggling. It hit me very hard and i was in denial for about 3 weeks. Her funeral was torture. Ill never forget how she looked laying there… I saw how much it hurt our community, i realized that i didnt want to be remembered that way and i needed help. I told my Mom that i was having problems andthat i was suicidal but instead of getting me help, she told me it was just a phase and that i needed to get over it. I asked her many times if i could go get help from different mental institutions and she turned me down every chance she got. Later in the year she lost a lotttt of weight. Im built, volleyball player and just thick, and when she lost that weight she decided tocome and use my clothing. After a while even my clothes were too big on her. (its not like im fat im size 5 in jeans) she began to then tell me how i was too fat and needed to lose pounds. When i was working out everyday of the week as i play on a national volleyball team year-round. She told me how i needed to lose weight everyday of my life, so, i became bulimic. I lost about 20 pounds within 3 weeks. But my bestfriend noticed and made me stop . So i made a promise to her that i wouldnt do it again… After that about a month later, i was very suicidal again. I attempted again, this time the only thing that saved me was my best friend who talked me out of it. God id be long gone withDout her. After that i was still depressed but not horrible as i had people to talk to. In 9th grade i became more depressed again and my mom and i were fighting more than ever. About everything. My mom is very protective. She reads all my texts and looks at calls and internet and everything. Im not allowed to date or go to parties and some may say its because she “loves me” but i say she doesnt want me to grow up. I need to live. And she wants me to be just like her when iiii do not want to be anything like her. I started seeing my school councelor and vented to her every once in a while and it felt good! But school year ended sooo that option was gone… Im hoping to talk to her again this year.. But im really strugggling right now with just everything… I feel like i need to go bak to throwing up my food every day and bruising myself in order to feel better… I but i really just needed to share my story so whoever read ALL of my boringness and probably wasted your time… Thanks.(: it means a lot to me really… Feel free to comment if you have questions or advice itd mean a ton(:!!!!
I feel like I just need to scream. I need to just scream and just keep screaming to get all these feelings out. I just want to be happy. After all my years of dealing with depression I’ve never wanted to be off this earth as much ad I do now. You’d think I have a good life, I work a lot, have honors and ap classes in school. But everything’s fake. I’m so fake. I wake up for school and put on a smile.I am abused. I’m a senior in highschool and Im being mentally abused by my freshman brother. I have this personality to me, I act so strong. But I just want to slit my wrists and get it over with. My little brother is turning into a tool. This summer I spent a whole paycheck buying him clothes and a bookbag for school because my low life parents can’t. I mean no problem. But today he totally just treated me like shit in front of everyone on my bus. Which is a lot. Telling me I’m a loser and really mean things.
Like how can your own brother treat you like that. I just had so much rage I wanted to strangle him and kill myself at the same time. Nobody understands. My boyfriend always tells me to talk to him. I do and he acts like nothing is a big deal. I’m DYING inside. I can feel my body slowly reaching its caving point. My mother treats me horrible. Horrible. She’s the worst thing in the world. I’ve supported myself since 10
Grade because she decided to stop being a mother to me. She tells me I’m fat and I’m a loser and a freak. I hate my life. I want to die. Everyday I sit in this house I want to just run into traffic. Choke myself. The things that come out of my parents mouths are like bullets. How can you have a child and treat them so harshly. I asked for help and she just yells at me. I’m suppose to be on anti depressant and anxiety medicine but she won’t take me to the doctor to get it. I would drive myself but she wouldn’t let me get my permit. I’m alone. I have no friends. I don’t even want to be around my bf of almost 3 years anymore. I just want to be alone. So I can stop pretending to be so happy. Can I just not wake up tomorrow. I can’t take this pain anymore. I really can’t.
Have to get this off my chest.
It’s eleven months ago today. Eleven months since he killed himself, my dear brother.
You know, the longest I ever had to miss him was 10 days. That was when he left for a camp with a youth movement. And I remember missing him so badly, I just couldn’t wait to see him again. I still can’t believe he’s not coming back now, I mean, how can he be gone? How can a life, built up over 16 long years, just disappear in a second?
If a stranger would come in our house, they wouldn’t even know he’s not there anymore. All his stuff is just where he last put it. His box of tissues for his nose is still next to his bed. His schoolmaps are still in the closet next to his desk. His backpack over his chair. His socks, t-shirts, pants, sweaters, hoodies, all his clothes are still there, in his closet. In our bathroom, his toothbrush is still right next to ours. His deoderant is still standing there, his pyjama’s are still next to mine in the bathroomcloset. His toothpast, his shaving things. His shoes are downstairs in the hall, standing there. On the computer, every document he ever made, every game he installed, we all kept it. His iPod, his wallet, his papers, all of it.
I don’t ever want those things to move an inch. I can’t let it go. I want there to always be 4 toothbrushes in the bathroom, my moms, my dads, mine and his. His place at our table will never be taken by anyone else. I can’t and don’t want to let go of those things. I want to keep everything he ever touched, everything he ever spoke about. I want to gather as many things as possible that remind me of him, I want to have as many memories as possible.
I just love him so much and I want him back.
I haven’t been on here in months and I won’t deny that things have actually gotten much worse. I mean one minute I’m saying “I got this, I can make it” and the next I’m saying “okay I’ll just end it all on my 21st birthday.” My feelings go back and fourth. And now it’s just all coming back. My plan was to end it all on my 21st. To see if things ever get better. I realize that im still young, and all that, but some people just weren’t meant for life. Sometimes I feel bad because I wasn’t put through so much torture and hurt like most people. I’m just your average girl who was hurt through school a lot by students and even teachers. And Even though this is my second year of college, which by the way isn’t working out so good, I still have so much bad memories that I can’t or never will let go off. From being called ugly and never having a boyfriend, first kiss, or anything romantic, it can all get to you. You won’t believe how bad I got treated. It’s not just normal tv bullying, it was horrible. I know I should put the past behind me, but words, will literally kill you. They will you eat you up and ruin your life, especially if you actually care about other people opinions. I tried the whole “makeover” thing, and I look horrible, just as worse. I tried on different styles of clothes, hair, make up, there is nothing that will make me happy about my looks. Nothing. So I tried thinking differently, positive, I started saying “I am beautiful” everyday to change my personal outlook. Here I am a month later wanting to commit suicide, so obviously that didn’t work. As far as having a future for myself, I literally see nothing. The other day I asked myself “Where do you see yourself in 10 years” and a blank image came in mind. Nothing. I saw nothing. When I was younger I saw so many things, but now I see absolutely nothing. Then I ask, 5 years. And I sometimes just see myself homeless or dead. The only thing that keeps me from taking my own life is my religion: Afterlife. But I think one day I won’t care. And I’ll do it. The only regret I have is my mom. Leaving her. Life will not get better for me. I know it won’t. I hate when people tell me “it gets better” but it don’t and never will. Lies. So here I am. Another year, still a failure. I can’t wait until I’m 21.
I’m slipping back into depression. For the first time in months I deliberately took a razor to skin and edged it in. The familiar slice and twinge offered a precious moment free of the past that haunts me. It felt so GOOD. So tremendously good. My wrist is aching for a gash right now, but I can’t. My wrists are clean. Under my clothes isn’t so pure. It’s the only thing that offers freedom from pain, and I can only imagine that deeper cuts and a tub of warm water would offer all the more bliss. I can’t. I can’t kill myself, can’t and won’t. I WANT to, not all the time, but the total desire washes over me in a title wave of emotions I can’t surface from. I’m drowning, slowly. Sinking and watching the bubbles float above me as the air leaves my mouth. As the darkness engulfs me, I can still see my friends breathing. It hurts. No one noticed that my smiles don’t quiet reach my eyes so often. I hardly speak when I’m not around my friends. I can go hours and not utter a word. I just sit and listen, listen for something that will take my mind from what causes me pain. I can’t confront this hovering knife hanging by a rope. Will rope turn to threads?
My stomach always has a dull ache because my head is filled with roaring white noise and the voice of regret.
I can feel the zeal for life slipping away, and all I can do is smile for the audience.
New to this, but have experiences I would like to share and would also like any advice from others.
I have large scars on my leg from top of my thigh to the knee, some very long and wide. On my left arm I have scars on both sides of my arm including my wrist. I have been in this situation for six years. I use to live in small towns where scars were more acceptable so I showed off my arm with ease and didn’t have any issues. I moved to a city a few years ago and have found peoples reactions more of an issue, (i work as cleaner, in bar and am student so arm is exposed a lot now its summer) I hear comments, have been ridiculed and even fired for my scars so I am over cautious. It took me a year to show arm in the bar – although I never ever show my legs even though they are long and slim, people tell me I have a nice figure and I always feel false as they cannot see what is underneath my clothes.Â I would love to be able to show my legs more in public but it is so difficult as I have moved away from self harm and do not what to be categorized as one anymore but unfortunately I always will be. (Although have slipped up in last three to four months with burning my arm with boiling water and cutting my self with a knife when i was drunk) This makes life extra hard for myself, as I am a depressant still. It is a vicious circle I cannot get away from. If anyone knows how I feel then please help.
Hey, Im kind of new to this so probably wont explain myself very well. This is actually the first time Ive ever talked about this to anyone if this even counts. Anyways im not sure how I even ended up here I feel like im wasting who ever reads this’ time. I dont want pity I used to do a bit of counseling as a youth worker so I know all the lines like “life is potential death is that potential gone”, I know how to help others I just cant help myself. I dont want pity or sympathy just a logical reason and some advice. I guess you could say im looking for a Vulcan to talk to, no emotions just logic. Im 23 I cant remember ever not being depressed. Bullied all through school no real friends I cried pretty much everyday. I used to think as soon as I grew out of my spots or got a job so I could buy nice clothes or things id be happy. I got a job as a playworker my dream job still depressed. Went to uni made friends, amazing friends, still depressed, still alone. I grew out of my spots, have nice clothes, nice things, girls seem to like me, I like them, they terrify me. Ive had girlfriends before, Ive had plenty but Ive gotten worse recently, dropped out of uni, cant find work, self esteem plumets, no girl deserves me. Im a mess. How can I like someone when I dont like myself. Ive looked for work for two years. I find it unbareable I recieved a rejection letter from mcdonalds, they said I was overqualified. I didnt leave my room for a fortnight, no shower, no food, no friends just to pee. I used to be anorexic, Im a very logical person and realised thats stupid, doesnt solve anything and kicked it but im afraid its coming back.food is all I can control I know its stupid I know why I do it, I know it doesnt solve anything, it doesnt help, I still do it. Ive lost everything that was my, my essence has gone im just a person eating then sleeping then eating then sleeping. Draining money, food and life from the friends and family who help me out. I have nothing to give in return. The only reason im still here is because Ive been trying to think of a way to go without upsetting them. I think I may have found that way and this is where im at. My argument is; if all you are is a drain on of the life and happyness of the ones you love with nothing to give back, when no matter how hard you try you cant move forward, isnt logical to just end it and save them the hassle? Sorry I know that got quite dramatic and tl;dr. I would appreciate any thoughts tho, id love to see the potential thats supposedly there.
I’m holding a knife,is this the very end?
I’d like it to be better,I’d like to die beautifully ,but I don’t even have enough strengh to wear better clothes,to makeup,well…Farewell boys.I won’t be happy but I won’t suffer any longer at least.My last post so I wish you a good and long life.
He broke me down and got into my core, the capital of my heart. He happily resided in the blood of my soul, or so I thought. Unknowingly he was living in someone elses heart much more happily resided in theirs rather than mine. Caressed my mind with sweet nothings and empty words that should’ve been full of emotion. Worked into my brain and blindsided me from the signs. From the facts. I thought maybe somebody could be content and liberated with just me and no one else. Told me his fears and goals. Broke into tears full of heartbreak and confusion .. all for the game. All just to play. Created a vulnerable state of himself to break me into mine. To hurt me. To break me. I gave him my all. I gave him my heart. And for what ? For lies and hurt? Once a person I couldn’t take my eyes off of was now someone I couldn’t stand to see. His smell lingered on my clothes. On my pillow. On my skin. Bringing back visions I’d rather not foresee. I could feel his touch against my skin, the quiver in my breath. Again I felt the comfort in the silence we shared looking deep into each other. Never again. Never again ..
I feel so desperate having no where else to vent to but lately I’ve been so alone. My friend and I had a shopping trip and I jokingly say we should have a sisterhood for a sweater and she says “I might be able to fit into your clothes but our other friend definitely Â won’t ” and she may not realize it but that was her calling me fat. I hate when she always hints indirectly that I am the fat friend. And I’ve been on my way loosing weight. I’ve lost 15 so far and plan on another 30 but I just don’t think that will be enough anymore. I want to be the skinny friend, I want to go back to school and surprise people with my weightloss. And the thing is my friend has Ana and I’ve been watching documentaries just to understand her better but I seem to enjoy the thought of not eating and loosing weight. I know it’s not healthy just by looking at my friend ad talking toher. The only reason why I’m so scared is that after meals now I can think my way into feeling physically sick. And I started self harm a while ago and it all started with a little research and an idea and I just can’t do this gain to myself because I’ve been self harming for a year and a half and I just can’t develop an eating disorder but always being the fat friend and reminded of my weight makes it so easy to just skip a few meals or exercise a whole bunch. Any words of wisdom? I can’t tell my parents and my only friend is too busy getting high now to even care.
i did it again, i’m just sitting here waiting and wondering how is it, in all this years you never realize the marks on my arms, or the blood on my clothes.
i wonder how would you feel is you knew that every single cut i make myself is because of you mom.
it really doesn’t matter anymore. Im just tired.
im just waiting for something that tell me that is time, that i should cut deeper and try to sleep.
My name’s Caitlin. I’m nearly 14 and you’re probably going to have a rant at me for saying this and only being 13 but it’s how I feel and I need to tell someone.
My life won’t be as bad as anyone else. To be honest, my life isn’t even that bad – unless you look closer. I get bullied at school, online, and even sometimes on the street. It started when I was 10. I started cutting. I don’t know why I just did. It went on for a year then it stopped. I started to be happy again. It was great!
When I started High School it was okay I got a few remarks but I just shook them off because I had my friends and I thought that was all that mattered.
After a few months the bullying started again. And it got worst. This time it wasn’t just a few people – this time there was a whole gang of them. I felt so alone.
I started to self-harm again and all I could think about was dying. I wanted to die.
I remember waking up in the morning and crying because I had woken up. The last thing I’d do at night was hope that I’d just die.
When I self-harm I used to be careful. Just minor scrathes. But now it’s anywhere and I don’t care.
I get bullied just because I’m not that pretty, for the clothes I wear and because my singing isn’t that good.
I know it will get better but right now I don’t think I care take much more.
I will appreciate any advice.
This is my first time posting on here, and I would like to read some first hand accounts of hospitalization after a suicide attempt, or being hospitalized for threatening to do so. I would like to know whether you feel it helped you or made you feel worse. Were you diagnosed with a mental illness and do you still want to kill yourself?
Bought components for helium bag online last fallÂ (live in a small town so it was easier to find online). I suppose I was acting a little too disconnected from others and my boyfriend caught on before I could summon the courage to go through with it. He gave me the option of packing my things and going in voluntarily to a state psychiatric hospital – so I did. Had to go to the emergency room and be admitted that way. Had to be stripped down naked and searched and not given any clothes for a day (had a hospital gown – and as a girl with no bra or underwear, it was terrible). It happened to be during Thanksgiving holiday and they were understaffed. The nurses tried to give me medicine before I was seen by a doctor, the male nurses were inappropriate towards me, unprofessional staff and so on. There was hardly an therapy period. They kept me there for over a week and were fascinated in the helium method and the nurses would ask me about it constantly. It was horrible, and honestly, IÂ have more severe suicide ideationÂ now than ever. Just curious if anybody else has had a similar experience.
Got displacedï»¿ so far from home
When I left, it’s on my own
Had someone, she used to stay
But I was cruel and I drove her away
Couldn’t get along with people I’ve known,
I changed my name. I changed my clothes.
But these old men, where have they gone now?
There’s not an issue they’d back due.
I say hi, what’re you d-d-d-doin over there?
Here I go down again
Lost my love all my friends
No one’s left no more debts
I found out all I got is myself
My mind tells me that I am a prisoner trapped in my own fuckin body. I so desperately need to be free from this little thing we call life, to just leave this God forsaken planet. I have so much rage, hate, and anger pent up in side me I literally feel as if I could explode, I try my best to keep it under lock an key (I mean what kind of man can’t even control his own emotions) but sometimes it gets the best of me and I usually end up trying to cave someone’s face in. And it feels great at the time, to physically impose my will knowing that just about the only thing that can stop me when I snap like that is a taser or a bullet. But afterwards I don’t feel so great about doing things like that. I need to leave this place before I hurt anyone else, one bullet to the brain will ease my pain an I will finally be sane, no more voices in my head no more arguing with myself no more nothing. Just a few more things to take to the goodwill an I’ll have gotten rid of most of my stuff, donated most of clothes an wild game I took this year to the homeless shelter. Just about ready to free myself from my mind, my body, my own personal hell.
everything im freaking out about right now – clothes, pimples, classes, homework, friends, boys, cutting, – it all seems so huge and like its all that matters.
but then i think about the future. in 10 years its wont matter who dated who for how long and who had a fight with who. it wont matter.
it wont mean anything.
but i want it to matter.
so im making myself a promise.
im going to stop thinking about the future and how things will be in a month, a year, a decade.
thinking about it now will not effect the outcome of my entire life. so the only thing i will think about is today. what will happen will happen and all i do by over thinking is make myself more nervous about failing, so if the only thing i want to achieve right now is talking to a certain boy, or not swearing or anything like that then failing at these small things wont matter or really effect me.
wish me luck.
Two days ago I did something horrible, something awful, terrible if you will. I got drunk. Now, that might not seem that bad in and off itself, so let me elaborate: it wasn’t at a bar. It wasn’t with friends. It wasn’t even on my own like I often do. No, it was in a restaurant. With my family. The drunkest I have ever been. Blackout drunk. Throwing up drunk. Unable to walk drunk. All off the wine they bought for themselves. My mum had to help me walk home, that much I remember. I don’t remember what happened after we got home, but apparently I threw up. A lot. My mum had to get me up the stairs, out of my clothes, into my pajamas and into my bed. I have been avoiding my parents ever since. Sigh, they deserved a better daughter. I often avoid them. I hope they both leave the house for long enough today to give me the chance to steal some Percocet, maybe some benzos as well. I need to get a refill on my own benzos too, I might call the doctorÂ today.
I roll to my other side to be greeted by an empty bed once more. The imprint of your body still engrave in the mattress. The smell of your cologne and stale cigarette smoke, from long sleepless nights, still lingers in the air. A bottle of cheap liqueur solitarily stands on that old mahogany dresser. Clothes strewn across the room from lust filled endeavours, fueled by the cheap elixir of love. The shattered remains of our love lays in pieces on the floor, alongside the broken china. I lay here an wonder what it was all for?
I somehow manage to drag myself from our un-matriomonial bed and put on something that seems clean. I gaze down at my watch to try and grab some concept of time. My watch, however, has stopped. My life permanently left at just gone two. Time stopped the moment you walked out that door. One hand in your pocket and a jacket draped over your shoulder. You couldn’t even look me in the eye when you said you’d be back in an hour. I wonder was she worth it though? Was the cheap thrill of having something you knew you shouldn’t too hard to resist? You said it was purely lust driven sex but was the love we, as I thought shared not enough? I grew up believing that the greatest goal anyone can achieve in life is finding their one true love. I grew up deluded.
Everything I look at reminds me, not only of you, but of us. Of the person I became because of you. You took me in my innocence and made me believe in life’s cruelest of lies, love. My mind is bombarded with memories, good, bad and sometimes a little insane. Those nights where you would hold me so close, I could feel your gentle heart beating against my cheek. Or the times where we would get so drunk, we’d stay up all night laughing at life. What happened to us? You showed me the real side of life. I think you called it ‘living’? You showed me true wonder and gave me hope. As cliche and as it is, you were and still are my reason for breathing. My life didn’t begin till I met you but you walked as as easily as you walked in an that’s something I can’t cope with.
You found flaws in the walls I built to protect myself from people like you. You chipped and you chipped until you broke it down. Leaving me vulnerable to your magic but now to the rest of the world as well. I wonder what time it is. Or day. Or date. Or month. I wonder where you might be. Which mistress has your heart tonight. I wonder if maybe I became as cruel and vindictive like the whores you choose, would you rekindle your flame, your burning desire, your passion?
Sauntering over to the thick, heavy drapes. I slowly but cautiously pull them apart. Revealing the outside world, a sight I haven’t seen in a long time. Judging by the amount of light ascending into dark, I can hazard a guess and presume it’s nearing 6a.m. The feeling of natural light and the lightness of the fresh oxygen flooding through the window is a feeling that’s become quite alien to me. It’s a drastic change from those Eco-saving light bulbs and the thick smell of depression an Xanex. Resting my head against the cold, condensation stained glass, I begin to feel human again. An overly optimistic DJ on the radio is telling me it’s the first day of Spring. It’s a time solely dedicate to new begins, apparently. New life, new love, new cleaning products. Pass me the Clorox and excuse the pun.
Every night I have to convince myself not to do something drastic.
I have to look at myself in the mirror, and I have to lecture myself for so long just to tell myself not to cut, not to think terrible thoughts, not to attempt suicide, not to cry, not to do anything that harms myself.
I think I’m losing myself.
I’m not feeling as how I used to.
I can’t stay happy. I fake a smile when I’m in school.
But I don’t talk. People talk to me, and I nod as a sign that I’m listening. I’m done with talking.
I don’t know if I’m cutting myself for attention. If I’m acting like this for attention. I’ve never been one to crave drama or attention. I have an extremely drama-free life.
It’s just really depressing, I guess. Sadistic, I should say. That no one ever asks me if I’m okay anymore. No one ever shows concern for me.
I guess it’s a sign, expressing that I’m mature and they suppose I’m responsible for myself. But I’m not. I can’t take care of myself at all.
I don’t know what’s with me. I give myself a surplus of reasons why not to feel sad. I give myself a thousand valid excuses explaining why Â should be happy. Why I should smile.
I have the latest clothes, I don’t have drama, I have a nice house, I have good grades, etc.
But it’s not enough. They aren’t good enough to convince me. I don’t know why.
I just feel as if everything would be better– for everyone– if I just wiped my own existence out of this. Can anyone relate?
Idunno. I’m being pushed. Pushed to do these things, by both myself, friends and family, and piers.
So many things cause me to use a blade as my remedy. So many things cause me to try to overdose on medicine. So many things cause me to consider making a suicide attempt at the end of the week.
And no one has noticed this.
I’ve tried my hardest to give them signs.
Small signs in which say “Please, worry about me. Ask me if I’m okay.”
That way they don’t think I’m looking for attention. That way they can think “Maybe she’s looking for help. Maybe I’m the one who should help her.”
But they never do.
I’ve told you her story now I’ll tell you mine. I’m Angel and I’m 13, I’ve gone through so much though so don’t judge me on my age. I’ve been raped and beaten, I’ve been hated on and abused, both physically and mental, I’m suicidal and IÂ cut. I’ve gone through so much and I don’t understand why I’m here anymore. Why do I have to live on this earth full of haters? Anyway, when I was 10 I was put up for adoption and I was taken in by a family in Louisiana. They were okay, for the first week. They had 5 other kids besides me though. The youngest little girl who was 9 at the time was always stealing my food, that’s okay, I rarely ate and if I did I threw it back up. The slightly older girl who was 11 made fun of me for being on the small side. I went to school wearingÂ clothes much too big for me, no one looked my way. When I got home I was hit for being smart and burned byÂ cigarettes, andÂ called names like fag and whore. I didn’t mind, I mean words don’t hurt, right? I found my first love, she was a girl, sadly, which added more names to the list. It hurt, Â she taught me toÂ cut to make the pains go away, so I did, but sheÂ cheated on me and then ended up dying, blood-loss. My real family readopted me, but the damage had been done. When IÂ came back to New York a 51 year old man almost raped me, it’s been in the news about the man who tried to rape an OrangeÂ county 13 year old girl, hey yeah that’s me. So, anyway, IÂ cut and I’ve tried to kill myself so had my new girlfriend, but we are helping each other win this fight. Â We will win our battles. I will survive.