have you ever had that experience where you feel like after loving someone for a long time you all of a sudden feel like you’ve been lying to yourself and doubt your feelings and you feel like talking about it to them but then you’re scared of losing something so great?
Since I last hurt myself. I’ve been forcing myself to try and stay strong and not do it again. I almost did yesterday, but I willed myself through it.
I had a spiritual experience the other day that… Well it scared me. What I saw. I am a Pagan who has fallen out of practice but am trying to pick myself up again through it. I’ve gone through these types of experiences before, but this one in particular really opened my eyes. At the local New Age shop, they have a cot in the back with a selenite grid underneath it with a bunch of other stones to help cleanse and recharge someone (you may not be in to that, but if you were to try it, you never know. Something might just happen).
So I’m laying on this table with the grid underneath me. My breathing begins to slow down and I can only assume I’m in a meditative state. Suddenly, my body just feels like it’s beginning to melt like wax and drip off the sides of the table, slowly. That’s not was freaked me out. That’s normal. In my mind’s eye, it was all black. I see a figure, all black as well, hunched over and crawling with gnarled fingers (just think of if Gollum and a witch from Left4Dead had a child) and it had beady white eyes. I’m chasing after it, trying to grab hold of it. It just runs from me and dodges my every attempt. A spotlight then appears and the figure runs into it, looking at me. It then rips it’s eyes out, looks up, and the eyes grow back. It begins molding the white eyes like clay and she’s working faster and faster. A spotlight appears from the ground up next to her. She’s molding and molding still.
My body is done melting and I am pulled out of the trance. I touch my face. I had been crying. I get off the table and grid and leave.
That night I asked the Lord and Lady to help me see what it was.
It was my depression. My depression is forming who I am today, the white, the happiness. Out of the pain and grief, I will have come out as a new person… It’s just going to take some time.
So i am in love. Â I must admit i never thought it will hit me so suddenly but i guess that it’s true when they say: ‘when you least expect it’
The sweetest person i have ever met. I am going to sound as a hopeless romantic but his kisses make me dizzy which is entirely true i can barely walk after he touches me. Â So when everything should fit in its place my awkward paranoia jumps out of nowhere. I have never been really close to somebody like this and i am constatly thinking about bad things. I have this idea that something bad will happen and that he is going to leave me. Than again it comes to me i should break this before it goes further and it seems like if i end this sooner it will be easier to forget him. But than again i have been longing for someone and i always blew things up cause i am too emotional. To be honest what i am really afraid of is that he won’t be able to cope with my dramatic outbursts. Even though i have been better, i think about suicide less frequently and i haven’t cut myself for more than 5 months. He doesn’t know about any of that and one part of me really wants him to know, i mean at one point he will ask me about the scars…
Once he said he wants to escape from all the depressed people and i was stunned, i thought if only you knew…
also i am kind of sensitive of everything he does which is stupid but i can’t help myself. He is really shy when we are around other people and i know i should respect that but i feel really bad when he pushes me away around others. Also when we walk down the street, he is afraid to hold me or touch as if someone will see us. And we are in a relationship, we talked about that and his friends know that we are together but still…it is kind of weird i don’t want to judge him as i know that i have more serious problems. Maybe he needs more time. I really hope i am overreacting but all of my previous experiences were terrible so i can’t be calm, i keep thinking he is going to let me down. He is very kind and loving towards me and i know that people can pretendt for a really long time so i don’t know how to be relaxed. All i see is the negative around me. I know things end eventually, they have to it is a natural process but i just wish i can at least enjoy the good times without having all those pessimistic thoughts.
Its actually possible to coax yourself into cardiac arrest through careful meditation if you are trying to die.
You sit, with you eyes closed, and try to enduce what many people call an anxiety attack, or what i see as trying to remember where you were before you animated your body.
As a baby i can remember categorizing every experience i had, and knowing that whatever i was in-my body- was a highly advanced prison, designed to fool me into keep myself inside it.
I can remember taking account of and noticing my breathe, how many times i had inhaled and realizing that if i didn’t stop immediately it would be harder to stop altogether the more breathes i took. I can remember seeing and categorizing it as an experience by itself and realizing it was a penetrative phenomenon that distracted me from purity of the center of focus i had inside myself. I can remember hearing for the first time and categorizing it as a experience seperately, and knowing it was irrelevant, i witnessed my consciousness inadvertently synchronizing the experience of Â sight and Â the experience sound until i tool both for granted.
I can remember feeling for the first time and knowing it was a sign of my imprisonment but at the same time it wa turned into a pleasurable experience the more i endured it.
I can remember tasting for the first time and knowing i did not want to eat, but the more it was forced on to me the more i gave in to it.
Modern physics has already proven that we are in a holographic matrix.
Early on as a child i can remember planning certain experiences for myself in my life, consciously visualizing them and storing them in my unconscious until thety manifested. When i’d do this i had the vulnerability of having an anxiety attack in which i felt as if i was the only person that existed. But i was too young to understand what was happening and the world around me was reinforcing a different state of mind so i’d try to forget. I wanted my dream to prove it to me, that it was fake and that i should allow myself to pass on when i have anxiety attacks. Well now all the top physicists are telling me this isn’t real. It was the proof i was waiting for. But i locked myself into the five senses so deeply trying to ignore the truth, that now it is much harder for me to let go.
The hardest thing is eating. I like eating Â so mush now.
I even heard a song on the internet radio station playing from the ceiling at whole foods that played a song whose chorus was “its okay if you want to die, its okay if you want to die!”
I definately believe it should be a persons choice and no one elses, as to whether they should continue living.
Anything else would be a gross violation of free will.
Trust is a powerful word and most don’t even realize it but i learned through to many experiences that no one in this world can be 100% trusted. I trusted a group of people from a small town i used to live in and look where that got me…it ended up with me getting bullied day in and day out i trusted every girlfriend i have ever had and look ive been cheated on and used or the bullshit brake up lines like ” its not you its me ” and always over text or by Facebook. I know that their are other people in this world who have it a hell of a lot worse then me but im thinking about me and my shit life right now like the current situation im in with witnessing my parents splitting up all because my mother is a damn harlot and fucked up everything like my family was already in the poor house you know like bankrupt and shit but now a hell of a lot worse. A 25 years of marriage my mother cheats on my dad hell i didn’t trust people before this but i always thought i would end up with a family of my own but now i don’t think i could ever be in a relationship without thinking of this situation.Since my mother left life in my house has become more diffrcult to live in like my relationship with my sisters has become even more worse like the youngest one is basiclly the spawn of satin.Once a month i get cash from the goverment because of my disabillitys but i have to keep it secret from the youngest because she is the only who talks to my slut of a mom and if my mom found out she would stop paying childsport. I havent had a smoke in almost 5 months because smokeing calmed me down but right now i want a smoke more then ever hell i might even start to smoke weed. I hate my life right now like i havent even had sex in almost a year now and i havent even had a girlfriend in over a year i dont know if its subconsciously i miss morgan and lucy or i just wanna be hurt again. sometimes i wonder if death would be better but i know im to much of a coward to go through with it. Death is a part of life it happens to all of us but i honestly i wish for mine though. i try to pray to god i ask everytime for help but help never comes i try to go to church but i cant get myself to do it. i cant trust anyone now not even myself….we all walk death row…we all get to the chair…i cant wait until its my turn.
staggered overdose is what im thinking . I know how painful it is with liver failure but im willing to endure the pain for the end result. Â I just cant bare it not looking like a accident something like a car crash or hanging would be too traumatic on my family .. I always thought pill overdoses were stupid and merely for attetion but now i feel like im left with no other option. suggestions experiences??
Anybody that has been with CAMHS (Children Adolescence Mental Health Service) comment and tell me what your experience was like with them; mine was okay but there were aspects of CAMHS which i wasn’t impressed with and some factors that led me to get progressively worse!
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.
I fucking hate my life. So I shit around, help other people with their lives in order to forget about my fucked up life… I know that won’t change anything, but I hate my life. I loathe it. I want to give up. I want to fucking give up everything. I can’t decide nor choose anything in my life. It’s all fucking manipulated by my parents even after highschool graduation. I hate living. I hate my family, I hate everything that is me. I just want to fucking kill myself. I a fucking useless shit infested with self-hatred. The judges won’t like me. I won’t be able to transfer university nor get any jobs. I hate my current school. I hate it because my family treat me like a retard because I go there. I care a lot what my family thinks or likes because they are the ones that hold all power in my life. They are the ones that have every control of what I am. I hate this. I hate going to universities as well. Â I know very well that universities provide professional education, chances, experiences, credentials, broad social connection and so on, but it’s not for me. I don’t need it. I want to study arts and that field does not necessarily require the so-called ‘university education’ to show others that you are qualified unlike doctors and lawyers… Your mind and your work matters so much more than such things. I might later want to study arts in an university but not now. I am not ready for any higher education. But my family shoves their desires down my throat. They want me to follow the norms of going to university right after highschool graduation. My parents have tortured my entire childhood and teenage years crazy to go to universities. They threatened me that they will cut and confiscate all basic necessities it I did not. So I did as I was told. Â I do not like the major. I was admitted into university but they are still angry because the college that I go to is not prestigious. THEY HATE IT. They don’t give a shit about what I would gain from schools. All they care is the title of the university so I can get a better job. This is just fucked up. But it isn’t considered absurd because in my little country, this shit is COMMON. So I tell them this is wrong, but they reply that they were through this, all others go through this. It isn’t convincing at all, because I don’t care what others do when it comes to making decisions in my own life. Why do I have to alter my choices because of others? I don’t care what they would think of me.They are still treating like a useless retard even after I went to university which they have been ruining my entire life for. The whole thing’s ridiculous.
That’s the reason why I’ve decided to transfer my school but it isn’t going so well. So they are angrier than ever. My parents have changed the plan. Instead of telling me directly how retarded I am and how my school’s a shit, since that will provide me the tag to accuse them of ruining my life, they are trying to change it to that I am the only reason of my fucked up life. So it becomes that my parents did their best to raise me but it was I, alone that made shit choices that eventually made myself useless. They are claiming that everything is because my choices. Yes, some of them were indeed my decisions, but they are dismissing the essential fact that I had no choice but to make those choices. They were the environmental factors that compelled me to make such decisions. They always ripped on me for I worthless shit I am. EVERY SINGLE DAY OF MY LIFE, I WAS TOLD THAT I CANNOT DO ANYTHING BECAUSE I AM USELESS. When I told them of my plans and goals, they laughed and jeered that I’m not capable. Yes, they brainwashed me to know that how useless and retarded I am, my whole life but I should still be going to prestigious universities. Oh duh irony. They want me to get a highly paid job so I’ll make more money for them. They threaten me that they will kick me out if I don’t get a highly paid jobs. I am their ATM, I am their money making machine for the future. That’s the reason why I am made and raised. That explains everything. They hate everything that I love or have interest in because I should be focused on making money instead of wasting my time on my personal interests.
When I tell them what they have done to me, just the objective facts only, they get so upset and resent that that’s what they get for years of hard work and cost they have put in to raise me. They get horrendously emotional and destroy objects and try to kill me on their whim. They are monsters controlled purely based on impulse. Nothing can stop them unless I knock them out with golf clubs which I cannot do even if I have to to survive. I just cringe in a corner while they do they beating. I did not say a word that implies my opinion. I just told what they did from an objective point of view. If they hate hearing their past acts, they shouldn’t have done it in the first place. They really should take a moment before they act.
They believe that there is absolutely no reason for me to be miserable nor have any difficulties in my life because they provide all the basic necessities. Well, in that case I ask if the farm animals are happy and satisfied with their lives. They are provided with overcrowded tiny cages(shelter), food and water. Ooooh they must be the most happiest creatures on earth because they don’t have to struggle for basic necessities. Farm animals are butchered at the end and so will I. I believe my family possess every potential to butcher me too when they desire to. Also, they have the third-world standards.
This is my daily life. I have more to say but I am getting tired of writing how shitty my life is. I wish I were dead. I am tired of the daily reminder that I am a piece of shit from my parents who control my life. I am tired of my fucked up life. I am tired of venting my misery here. If my rants here stop, it means I am no longer living because I know that my twisted life will never change. It won’t.
I just caved and wrote to the wrong person.
It had been a while, but i know that writing is at best futile, and at worst, potentially problem-causing.
But just the other day, i had a series of “seemingly connected experiences,” which resulted in… memories, thoughts, feelings i just couldn’t shake, and they wanted control… and i lost that battle. Maybe i forfeited. Maybe i hate my vulnerability so much that i lash out at any little thing that might expose or exploit it. When something is going to hit you where it hurts, the only “right way” to react, is to “go all in,” and either minimize the impact, or sacrifice for counter-strike positioning. I guess i felt like it was too late to defend, so i might as well run with it and… in this case, say what i needed to say, since we’re not talking about actual combat.
Either way, i “couldn’t resist,” and words happened. Immediately i felt like a relapsing addict. I didn’t even get to “enjoy” the feeling of knowing i had expressed what i needed, to the right (only) audience. No, just the “how long will i last this time…” and “how long will the paranoia last, before i can check my email without anxiety…”
People say words are powerful, but really they’re not. They’re only really powerful as a catalyst for events that are already likely to occur.
I’ve noticed that “bad words,” or “harsh words,” are far more likely to be interpreted as “true,” or “believed,” whereas “good words” are often doubted or disregarded. It seems that the typical audience prefers to give power to negative words, or perhaps, to infer negative meaning, when the intent is not completely unambiguous. Lots of people tend to take words the wrong way, when that wrong way is available.
Anyway… it feels like a relapse. Even though writing doesn’t give me any sort of “high,” and really doesn’t relieve any tension. It doesn’t solve a damn thing, especially when what i write is disregarded, and what the audience wants to think, is substituted for my intended meaning, instead.
I wrote to the person who “stole” music from me. I’ll skip the explanation and simply state that this is a big deal. This is a huge problem for me, and i can’t fix it.
Part of the reason i embraced my musical gift at such an early age, is that music, unlike words, does not require a specific meaning. Music allows a feeling to be expressed, without perfectly eloquent verbalization. A note sounds the same in every language. Music “speaks” in ways, and conveys things that words simply cannot.
I felt like music freed me from that whole “language” construct, and allowed expression to bypass that typical linguistic translation/interpretation barrier, although i realize that music is largely about interpretation, as well.
But now… i feel like i’m stuck with just words, as the only tools available, through which to express what can only be conveyed musically. What i once found so… spiritually moving, in music… now feels like… you know what, i can’t even bring myself to describe it. It’s just terrible. Nails on a chalk-board terrible. I can’t stand it. Even the most mellow and supposedly soothing sounds, just send me to a horrible place, where all i want is Out, and Silence.
Before this happened to me, i didn’t know it was possible for someone to ruin Music for me. I didn’t know that was something i could lose. I miss it, and i’m angry about it. I want it back, and i’ve tried, but it’s been years, and i just… can’t. I have this crazy involuntary reaction to anything musical, and i can’t handle it. Oddly enough, i’ve recently been playing The Sims and SimCity, and the music there hasn’t bothered me. That of SimCity is thoroughly hypnotizing. It’s like “oh, i’m gonna play and work on my city for a bit… OH, it’s DAWN!” Weird right? Yeah. I know.
I guess the only reason i’m sharing this is because i feel ashamed for attempting to express things to someone who does not appreciate them.
It’s like battling an addiction that never goes away. It’s constant, consistent, perpetual… and all i get out of it is the onerous task of practicing restraint, and refraining from expressing what another won’t understand, as if i’m the villain, and not the victim. I’m definitely not just “playing” the victim, in this. I am the only one who has any consequence, and it’s a life sentence of something i can’t maintain, didn’t earn, and don’t deserve. It’s completely unfair, and disproportionately harsh. But that’s not to say i expect the world to be fair. I just can’t get past how in the world i managed to encounter this degree of unfairness. I must have had a gaping hole in my heuristics… and then encountered someone who intended to exploit that vulnerability. And that is the key here: intent to exploit. I am completely certain that the evidence at hand, does in fact indicate this, quite clearly. At this point, denials are insulting. It’s like saying fire is cold, or water is dry. But i know fire is hot and water is wet. You can’t tell me otherwise, unless you want to look like a fool.
I hope that “forgetting pill” becomes available, while i’m around to try it. I’d trade like half my memories, and risk possible brain damage, just to forget this one person. The memories are toxic to me, and i don’t know how to forget… especially when what i want to forget, is constantly in my face, with countless reminders everywhere i look, everywhere i go, in every moment of all of my days.
Thankfully, my dreams are relatively safe, and rarely intruded. I rarely even remember having dreams… or, i am dreaming of a deep, dark, infinite void, in which i am not myself, or even aware of existing. It’s almost like drifting, disembodied, through the cosmos, aware of limited perception, but not as “me.” Just a perspective floating in space, completely disconnected from all of this misery.
Speaking of dreams… that’s about how i dreamed, when i slept for… idek how long, maybe 10+ hours, and woke up feeling strange, and wondering: is any of this even real?
As someone who almost never questions the reality of reality, i had this strange, surreal feeling, and the thought occurred to me.
It sure seems real… and it’s probably just my mind breaking. With all the prolonged psychological torment i’ve endured, it’s bound to happen eventually.
Whether it’s “really real,” doesn’t really matter, because even if it isn’t, i’m stuck here anyway. And if it is “really real,” as i usually feel quite certain that it is… then it’s not a question that needs asking.
All i really need to know, is that “this” is as real as anything i’ve ever known, has ever been.
Perhaps my senses “embellish” reality a bit, sometimes. Maybe my senses tell me that it’s “more real” than it actually is.
Maybe i need to try to just be an animal like everyone else. Maybe i just can’t. Maybe that’s the real problem.
I’m 14 . In 2009 , in 5th grade my Dad passed away. At the time he passed I was being bullied in school. Everyday was a living hell. I didn’t fear the people there, but I was just afraid of what new they had to say about me . When i came home and my mom told me my Dad died it was devastating, i thought of suicide and tried. No one new. I know that one thing that killed me inside was that no one was there for me when my dad passed , no one was there when i was being bullied … I wanted comfort , but failed to find it. I’ve had several other experiences this is only one .. I have a huge goal in life … it’s to make a difference. to make me feel like i have done my part and to feel accomplished , but more for our future and my kids and there kids. if we all work hard enough i bet a difference can be made.
I’m gonna have coffee and cake now to put a smile on my face. Then a good walk will keep me happy for today. Another day to stay heere. Then will start process again tomorrow, with different activities to keep me happy. I’ll stay alive for longer that way. And when I get old it’ll be the same, till I find myself too frail to go on. Then I’m gonna end it. I’ve decided that’ss how I’ll know that suicide is my only and last option left, so I won’t kill myself before I get the chance to live for some experiences I might miss out on otherwise. I want to get every little crumb out of life before chucking it away.
Today was nothing special, the usual boring, stressful mess at work. However, it’s still the day that finally broke me down, though I’m not sure why. For roughly three years now, not a day has passed that I haven’t thought about death, but getting home today, I knew I couldn’t stand one more day of hating what I saw in the mirror.
I’m just drained mentally, and numb emotionally. I don’t live for myself, but exist from day to pointless day. Each day is just dull maintenance of my basic needs. I find no pleasure in life, nor is there anything I want out of it: no possessions, amount of money, relationships, or experiences. They’re all temporary anyway; rapidly we’re all becoming frail and wrinkled. I’d rather save myself the arthritis.
The tallest building in town is called the 1 South Church Building. Tomorrow I plan to take a bus downtown, and jump from one of the observation decks near the skyscraper’s roof. I’m quite alone. The only people who might get hurt in any sense of the word, is if I land on someone. (This is unlikely, I have walked that street many times, and foot traffic is light.)
I will spare you my sob story. Here’s what you need to know. I am 23, married and a stay at home mom to a 4 year old little girl. I have been depressed since I was a child. I have times where I am okay but I always end up feeling depressed more often than not. I first considered suicide around 13 years old but never really had intentions or means to do so. In my family mental disorders are not considered medical and I would be told to just get over it.
Now, present day I am more depressed than ever. I think about suicide on a daily basis and have become almost numb to the idea. Obviously I’m still hanging on. The only reason is for my daughter but I can’t help but feel like she would thrive if she was not being held back by my anxieties and depression. I want to live. I want to see her grow up but my demons are taking over my head and killing myself is mostly all I think about.
My problem is I have had bad experiences with doctors in the past. I have never discussed my depression with a doctor, I’ve just had bad experiences in general and been given the run around that we are all familiar with.
I need to know how to make myself go and tell a doctor I need help. Just the thought of telling a doctor I have thoughts of suicide, feel sad most days and I am extremely irritable makes me feel even worse. I just can’t bring myself to do it. I have finally come to accept that I need to get help to live an active and healthy lifestyle for my daughter. I want to be better and I want to set an example. Even making the appointment is a challenge Â Making phone calls has always been hard for me, I’ve somehow developed anxiety and hate calling anyone. I feel helpless.Â
I am new here. I attempted suicide about 3 weeks ago, twice in less than 24 hours. The first time I was found by my siblings who got into my house and the second time, I was found by the police. I ended up in the hospital unconscious for two days and spent a further day in a ward with old people, who were bed ridden. I was under constant observation, not even able to go to the toilet unattended. As a psychology student, it was one of the most degrading and humiliating experiences of my life. I felt so ashamed facing my family after that and everyone was so shocked because they thought I was so together and strong. I myself could not understand my actions and was unable to give anyone answers. Slowly over the last 3 weeks I have realised that my partner of 6 years and father of my child, was a narcissist who reveled in my pain and anguish. He had been telling me I was mentally unstable for years, to the point where it became true. I realised that he has been the worst thing that ever happened to me and even though our relationship ended almost 3 months ago and he moved on to a new partner within a week, he is still trying to make my life hell. He heard about my hospitalisation and his family, friends and girlfriend have been posting about it online and making fun of me ‘having voices in my head’. It really hurts to know someone I once loved would not only share this information with others, but post about it in public forums and make fun of me. I am the mother of his child after all, who I have raised basically on my own since he was born. I am reeling from the way people have turned on me almost over night and I am so confused as to what I have done to deserve this. I was mentally stable and well, a high achiever you could say once. Now I am broken, joyless and unable to find any relief from the pain that my life gives me.
Every where I look, there are constant reminders of what has been taken from me and it is like a knife to the heart every time. I wish for death, but I am so afraid to try and fail yet again. I do not want to end up on a psychiatric ward, or back in the hospital and face a life without my son. I am struggling not to believe the things my ex partner is saying about me, but it is so hard. If I am not evil, if I am not poisonous and if I am not agressive, why am I alone and he is not? Why am I hurting and broken, when he is not? Why do I want to die and he seems so happy and in love with his new girlfriend?
He has done many things that are terrible. He has threatened to kill a friend of mine by stabbing them in the neck 4 months ago. He used to beat my dog, who now suffers anxiety. He shouted in our sons face at 4 days of age to “shut the f#ck up”. He raged against me when I did anything he disliked. He was never there for his son, or put him first. He withheld access to any money while we were living together, so I was completely dependant on him. When I left he refused to provide any financial support for 4 months until I forced him through the child support agency. And yet, I still believe somehow I deserved all of this because I am inherently bad. I feel like the people who say I am good and love me, do not know the real me.
I keep wishing for a way out. I do not know what to do.
Drugs. That’s what caused all this. There is lump in my throat telling me i dont think anyone will truly understand theÂ absolute s**t it does to you, but who knows. So here is my story..
*Note* I am deeply ashamed of this, and i try to forget about it as much as i can. (i have not re-read this because it was hard enough writing it, im sorry about any spellingÂ mistakes)
Grade nine was my first year of school ever (i was home schooled) so walking in the doors of that high schoolÂ healed a lot more then desks and teachers, it healed experiences. I didnt know where i really fit in with all these people who went to middle school together, but i wasnt that worried because i know it was the first week, weeks went buy and i ment this guy named Trevor* he was very nice and kind but also a big stoner, i did not think much of it because i know i wouldnt do anything, he liked me because i wasnt your Â typical high school girl, i have never kissed a boy and i thought it was a big deal. Any way long story short he got me high for the first time in November of grade nine, it was great, i had a good time, good friends doing it with, it was great. A day later my mom found out because i skipped a class and she read my phone and lucky for me she gave me a month and half grounding -_- it was the end of the world then. I stopped hanging out with them for the rest of grade 9 and i started hanging out with these girls named Jamie* andÂ Jordan*, and by the time summer came, we were getting high everyday of the summer, and i mean 3- 5 times day smoking weed. Towards the end of the summer i was caught once again and this time i put up a fight saying i was gonna run away blah blah blah (man i feel so ashamed looking back on it now). So my parents grounded me for 5 months, but this time taken out of first and third class because they were scared i would *smoke up between classes* they put me in drug therapy and the whole thing was the worst time of my life and i tried to kill myself during that time, i took about 18 advils but my friends talked me out of it, i stopped hanging out with Jamie and Jordan. After the five months i was good for a while but when the summerÂ rolledÂ around again, i started smoking again, but this time it was weed and about a pack of cigarettes a day, i was hanging out with older people, and i felt good cause i had a place to go and just get away from reality, we did a lot of drugs that summer, like Pot, Riddelen, Cocaine, Morphean, it was just a crazy summer, but towards the end of the summer about 2 weeks before summer started i was caught again. And my parents knew…EVERYTHING. i think a girl i was hanging out with once told my older sister, i was so mad. But this time instead of fighting back i told them i would never do it again, they gave me about a month grounding, that was it. When i got off my grounding i started smoking and drinking again with different older people, thats when i started to really get into cocaine, i did it about 3 times a day, before school, at school, after school, for about 2 months, it was getting out of control so i stopped, cocaine wasÂ actually not that hard to get off of for me, it was the cigarettes that was a bi**h. So i stopped on December 4th 2012, and i have been sober ever since. Okay well to be honest, i have drinkin about 3 times since then, but i was never really a drinker, and i dont really like drinking it so its not something i would do unless for a special occasions. The cigarettes by far is the one that is still fighting with me, i crave them still, and its so hard. I just want to have a pack or two just now and smoke them all, it scares me a little when i think about when i leave my house that i can have as many as i want, and i hate it, and seeing a picture of someone smoking is hard, or smelling smoke on someone after they have come in from having one, i am still fighting not going to get high and get all my friends back who f’en left me when i stopped, i have been alone since i stopped but i am closer with my family which is great, and my marks have been a lot better, but there is still that part of me fighting, fighting all the time to not go back to that place that stole me – Esila
I suffer from PTSD, OCD, and bipolar II.Â I’m also a FtM transgender person.Â My father died in 2009; I was only 20 and was his next of kin and had to to everything relate to the burial.
It took a toll on me.Â I didn’t even tell my doctor until 2010, when he put me on antidepressants.
The medication works, for the most part.Â But sometimes, my depression creeps back up again.Â It did that two years ago.Â I had pills stashed, I was ready to do it…
But then an anonymous person commented on a blog post of mine.Â It was just the first public post they could find, and they left this there:
I sobbed while reading every word of it, it was so true for me and my experiences.Â It saved my life.
Today, I saw a blog post, someone I’ve never seen before had left a suicide note.Â I’m a total stranger, but I left that same link for them, and my contact info so they could talk to me, if I’d left my comment in time.Â I’m still hoping they’re alive and will see it…Â I don’t know this person at all, but my heart aches for them.
I hope I was able to pay it forward in time…
This was originally a much longer post.
Until I saw other people getting responses whilst you cunts ignored ME.
Thanks for proving me right. There’s no one who gives a fucking shit about me here, either.
While one day falls into another, I only hope that this is a dream.
I’m too old for these feelings. I’m in university, doing an incredibly difficult course which I spent my whole schooling trying to get into. I chose this. I am crippled by social anxiety, so I chose to live alone. I am simultaneously envious of people who can be themselves, surrounded by friends. I chose to be like this, every decision pushing me further inside my head. I am painfully crammed inside my own skull.
Surely I’ll wake up, a happy, normal, real version of myself. Surely I’ll be able to think beyond myself.
I have seen two psychiatrists and have been prescribed antidepressants. These experiences have just been like facts to me, they have made me leap to conclusions – I have seen a psychiatrist, I am better now. I am taking medicine, I am better now. Yet, I am still unable to sleep. I wake up every morning, like a false awakening, a dream within a dream. Yet, I still can’t form the right sentences. I still can’t have the strength to accept my choices.
My dad found out about my antidepressants and that I want to change degrees. He calls me weak. He yells, disgusted. How could I be so weak? Why do I always take the easy way? Why did I even need medication? He tells me to harder up. He tells me I am a fuck up. He tells me I am weak. He tells me to harden up. Why don’t I just harden up? Weak. Weak. Weak. He tells me no. No, I should stop taking the pills, they make me even more boring. No, I cannot change degrees. I made those decisions, so therefore no. No. No.
This a dream, this is my own body. This is my own body? These are my own decisions?
I cut myself when I am 14. I have horrible dreams about scratching my skin until it breaks and I bleed. I drink and cry when I am 16. I shut off when I am 17. I don’t talk to anyone anymore when I am 18. I move when I am 19, and break down. I constantly think about how to end this spiralling dream. Jump off a cliff. Jump in front of a train. Jump off of my apartment building. Have the strength to push the blade down hard enough.
I have tried many times, but am never brave enough. Would if it doesn’t work? I’d be left to go to an institution. My whole family would know, they wouldn’t know what to say or what to do.
I have spent my whole life trying so hard for something. I don’t know what it is and am losing faith again. There isn’t anything left for me. I can’t contribute or give to anything. I am an enemy to myself, I can’t change myself.
The only thing that will have any effect on this never ending cycle is death. Death is the answer to waking up from this dream, this nightmare. As death won’t come to me, I’ll have to come to it.
to be honest i’m not really sure what i’m doing on this site but i’m ust gonna go with it. I’m not trying to sway anyone into my thinking or anything this is just my own experiences and opinions. So I’ve read a few posts and stuff and it’s kind of strange but i feel like i can relate. People are saying stuff like “oh you won’t do it” and stuff like that but ppl will, they always do and that’s what’s wrong with this site. you shouldn’t test ppl. I’m just hoping to get some advice on how to kill this shit before myself. Your probably thinking she’d never do it. I’ve tried 3 times in the last 6 months. nothing worked. it’s practically a fucking medical miracle! i’ve overdosed heavily. see my reality is that i’m really well known and popular, my profession has me that way. everybody around here “knows” me but they don’t fuckin know me. my friends dont even know me. but i have this best friend. we literally spend every opportunity hanging out she’s great. but once she finds out i have a mental disorder and i’m not actually in reality the best fun all the time and i’m in deep shit she just becomes numb. we never talk about anything it’s like ive lost a friend. but have i really ever had a friend if i was pretending to be someone else all the time? it’s fucking sick. i swan around uni every day with a big happy smile and chat shit to everyone then go home and harm! i cant deal with this shit anymre. my parents are sending me to every psychiatrist they can find. i’m so miserable. i broke up with my boyfriend cos i ddn wanna hurt him with all this shit. i never tell anyone whats going on. i’m going into a rehab centre soon and it’s my last hope. i can’t kill this cancerous like shit in my head without taking me with it. everyday i get more unstable and irrational. i cant control my emotions or feelings. playing a waiting game here. fuck everyone. ppl are so obsessed with their own lives and i get it, everyone wants to be the star of their own movie blah blah blah but you need a fucking cast. like i’m always there for my friends when they’re crying over lollipop drama like boyfriends and bitches. but i cant tell anyone, if word got out i’d become an outcast. i dont wanna go into detail about why i’m like this but lets just say i had a bad childhood. i’ve been drinking so excuse the lack of order. giz a shout if you think anything from this. please dont give me abuse i’m emotionally unstable haha cheers.