Sickness comes in so many forms. My sick child sleeping in my lap, my Grandmother who died of her sickness, mental sickness…usually you just can’t find the words to say to fix these things but still you try.
Now, I’ve said a lot about how much I hate myself and want to die, but I haven’t really gone into who exactly I am as a person that makes me hate myself. Here I’ll go into detail about the things that make me despise who I am as a person.
I didn’t have a shred of hatred for myself until I was about 10. This was where certain things in my life began to shape me into the self-loathing person I am today.
It started when a close friend my Grandmother had at the time crawled into my bed as I was sleeping one night, put his hand over my mouth so I wouldn’t scream when I woke up, and began to rape me. This would happen repeatedly until I was 12, when my Grandmother, who I’ve lived with since I was born, moved to the suburbs to be closer to my Father. I’d be so sore some days that I could barely walk, and during other days there would even be blood. Others took notice and asked what could be wrong, but I was scared. I didn’t want them to know what was happening to me on an almost daily basis. When I was 11 I tried to kill myself for the first time. I was deeply ashamed, and wanted the pain to end. So I slit my wrists as deep as I could and climbed into a tub that I had filled with warm water and salt. It almost worked, too. I lost tons of blood, and by the time I was taken to the hospital I had already lost consciousness and was on the brink of death.
There was one time where my Grandmother had to go somewhere for a week and needed someone to watch over me. He offered to do so, and my Grandmother agreed. That week would be the worst one of my life.
During that week he would order me around constantly, asking me to do things that were seemingly impossible for someone my age. Whenever I would mess up, or when he felt like it, he would slap me around, kicking me when I would fall to the ground. During the nights he would do horrible things to me, even worse than the rape. One day he thew me into the bathroom shower before peeing on me, calling me a whore, a *****, and a slut as he did it. When I tried to take a shower, he came in with a belt and began to hit me with it, telling me that he didn’t tell me to take one. He would then pin me to the shower floor where the water would pool up and cover my nose when he would begin to rape me. I still remember the feeling of his penis inside of me. It’s such a dirty feeling. I never feel clean anymore. I feel like less of a human, like a toy that has been used and thrown to the side. I never mentioned anything about my rape until I was 16, when I began to break down and cry hysterically when my Grandmother told me she was on the phone with him.
I was never able to get over the rape. I would have night terrors to the point where I would be afraid of even being sleepy. I would sometimes go nights without sleeping because I was afraid of what might happen to me if I were to do so. The sight of men would send me into a panic, especially Black men, since my rapist was a Black person. I’m better than I was before, but I still get nervous here and there. I’ve tried to continue on with my life, but it’s been so hard. Dating has been a mess, I can’t do anything intimate without having horrible flashbacks of what happened to me. Going to school scares me, too. I’m afraid someone will take advantage of me, and every Black kid I would see would send me into a panic. I wasn’t even able to graduate last year because of all the days I missed.
I’m also a Transgender woman. I began transitioning when I was 15 and have been growing ever since. Sometimes I feel horrible about myself. I mean, why couldn’t I have just felt comfortable in my body? Why did I have to put people through the stress of using female pronouns when referring to me, or calling me Jennifer instead of my birth name? It makes me feel bad. I also feel horrible when around biological women, or other Tran women who have a better grip on their lives than I do.
Between the rape and being Trans, I really have begun to hate myself. I wish I were dead, but then at the same time I want to live and see where life takes me in say a decade.
Welp, this is everything I have to type for now. If you have any questions, ask and I’ll be happy to answer them for you. Hopefully this makes sense. I think I was a bit vague in some areas of the story. Just let me know if it was or not.
P.S: Sorry for being such an asshole to some of you. I sometimes let my emotions get the better of me. It’s no excuse, but I’m going to make sure I change for the better. 🙂 Oh, and MuteKaterwaul, you’re a pretty awesome person. We should totally have a chat together sometime. <3
Today in class we were doing an activity, we had to draw our family tree and discuss the interesting things about our family. And of course, you can guess already, it is the worst thing for someone as broken as me.
Others talked about their siblings, about what their parents do, their grandparents. Me? What is the interesting thing of my family? My grandmother attempted suicide, my father is dead, I do not regard my mother, I dont know where my cousin is brought away by her stepmother.
And people are so stupid. All of them. I hate everyone.
I feel I am the only one who doesn’t belong anywhere.Am I the only one broken, the only one who has nothing left, the one unwanted? Why am I the only one? No matter how far away I run, the pain always catch up. And I’m sick of this.
- Abandoned by my mother
- Raped by my grandpa
- When i told abandoned by my grandmother
- Raped by my brother
- Abandoned by everyone in my family but my dad
- Went to court
- Diagnosed with Pseudo seizures
- Struggling with depression, anxiety, ptsd, insomnia, cuttingÂ and other mental illness’s
You would thing my life wouldn’t get any worse.
About 3 month ago, I noticed a lump in my upper left abdomen, it hurt but i ignored it.
1 month ago the pain moved to my lower right abdomen.
In my right abdomen I had an ovarian cyst. Nothing bad right?
I told them about pain on my left side. They did a CT scan. And found a mass.
For the last 2 weeks we’ve been hoping it wasn’t cancer, and that it was kidney stones.
Today I went to the urologist, and was told, it was not a kidney stones.
I’m a 15 year old girl with cancer.
After doing a CT scan today, I found out there’s tumors in both Kidneys.
In 11 days a cancer board will look at my case, decide what to do next.
Their still is a 0.01% of it being “benign” but they told me it is highly unlikely, were now trying to find out what kind of cancer it is.
If its Wilms tumor the fact that I have tumors in both kidneys would make it a stage 5
If its renal cell carcinoma stage 3. ( but cant not be treated with chemo and can progress rapidly.)
In 11 days my life can change.
.. After all I’ve been through, you would think my life would finally start going up hill
This is my 17th year on Earth. I honestly didn’t expect to make it this far, and yet, I have. Over the past couple of years I have tried so many times to get help, sometimes it helps for a little while but I still end up back in the same horrible place. I’m at the point now where I don’t believe that there is any hope for me and I’ve accepted that. I just want to get everything that needs to be done before I die done, that is why I am writing this. I haven’t really shared my story before, I don’t even think that it’s really that interesting I just feel the need to get it all out before the inevitable happens.
So I’ll start at the beginning; childhood. Â As a kid I was so keen to start school but when I finally did I learnt the meaning of cruelty. I didn’t make friends at all for the first half of grade one and I endured a fair amount of bullying. This continued all through primary and high school until I dropped out in 11th grade. I deserved to be bullied though, I was such a **** of a child. I was nasty and I kept to myself. I lied all the time, sometimes telling a lie felt more natural than telling the truth. I first started self-harming when I was 7, since then my self-destructive behaviour has been on a downward spiral.
Over the past couple of years I have withdrawn from a lot of my social obligations. I haven’t visited any of my family (apart from my dying Grandmother) in over a year and the only reason I visit her is because she is a vegetable and she is going to die soon. The people I’m living with now care about me and soon I will make them hate me. This is one of the last things I do before I end it all, because when I go I don’t want anyone to miss me, I don’t deserve to be missed.
It’s not that I hate life, I think life is wonderful! It’s the fact that I do not deserve to be alive. I do not deserve to breathe. My life is a crime against humanity and I deserve to rot in hell. I wish that I had never been born because the pain that I have caused for so many people is unbelievable and as such, my last act (making everyone who once loved me hate me) is my last act of love.
If you are reading this, I hope that you are not feeling the way that I am right now and I’m sorry that you’ve read this depressing post, I’ve wasted precious moments of your life that you will never get back… sorry.
Here is my life story and why i want to kill myself.
when i was born i was dropped on my head by my crackhead mother and then because of it couldnt talk right but could still think the same according to the doctors. In my middle school years people started to make fun of me because of that and felt as if there is nothing else to do.
so luckily somebody introduced me to a little plant called weed and i could never get off of it and after a while of smoking that i got bored and started on the acid and coke. And from there i went suicidal and wanted to kill myself everysecond that i wasnt on coke. and by the time i was 18 i ran out of money so i stole from my grandmother which i feel really bad about but i felt as if i didnt i would have died. so i kept stealing until i was finally cut off of money from my grandmother. So i robbed gas stations and shoplifted from there and bought my new drug meth. Yep crank because it was so cheap and it lasted so long was my last resort. Later on in my life i killed my mother for putting me in this poisition. At the time i didnt know how old i was or where i was all i remebered was that when i killed her i ran. I JUST RAN forever it felt like. I stole her coke and smoked that all and then when i woke up from my little nap i woke up in a prison in austin texas and i live in houston. (Not saying i ran that far just saying) And realized what i had done and actually wanted to be in jail. only because i would be cut off from life and drugs. I went to court and was sentenced to a lifetime sentences without parol. And from there i thought about how my life went. and i thought about everything. Everything that has happened in life and what a waste in God’s creation i was.
Then i started to look at the bight side of things before i killed my self at maximum security prison. i thought well i set some great examples to people who know me and showed them that drugs is not the way obviously… And now i think about that i dont wanna kill myself its a wierd felling inside about how my life was a waste but the one good thing in life made my happy. and it wasnt a person or anything like that it was the fact that i taught people a bad example and will probably be told to the next generation of kids about my story… So if you think you got it hard then think again and think about the one good thing in life and run away as far as you need to. for me it was prison for life… that pretty far. So hope this helped you wannadiers, if it did please comment below cause i would like to know your story.
As you know I have a very rich grandmother who is quite snobby and verbally abused me when i was a child. Last week I was talking to her on the phone and my plan had slipped out and i told her by mistake.. She tried long and far to stop me but i said no to everything… For some fucking stupid reason she decided to give me a mil to enjoy before I pass away…I now this would sound really fake to the average person but i don’t care if you believe me or not. All that matters is what should i do with it. Can i get some suggestions?
Lamenting silently in my room. Had a serious mood swing. One moment I was happy and at ease and the next I just wanted to curl up inÂ a corner and cry. My brother says that it isn’t okay to cry. Is that true? Is it bad to cry? I’m pressing charges on my friends’ cousins’ for sexual harassment. I didn’t do anything to them. In fact, I never ever spoke to them before.Â My grandmother won’t talk to me. She waited to tell me that supper was done after it got cold. Yeah, she really loves me huh? In a way I don’t blame her. I walk dressed all in black, cuts on my arm, completely anti-social, so I can understand why she hates me. But it seems that when I stopped playing sports and began to chase after music, she stopped caring for me. She doesn’t do anything for me anymore. One time she noticed I was crying in my room, and demanded I tell her why I was. I didn’t want to tell her why, because she was being mean about it. “Tell me why you’re crying! I’m asking you a question! Answer me!” Then she got mad at me because I got scared. She neglected me and pushed me around, told me I had no life before, and wonders why I don’t make contact with anyone any more? I’ll be moving soon, so I won’t have to worry about her. But just the way she is! I hate her with a passion. She’s only nice to me when she wants something out of me, and it’s not right. Then she demands respect out of me. I tried to respect her before, but she won’t respect me. So she has no right for that mantle. or is all of this just me?
I’m back in my hometown for the summer. It’s between the semesters for college, and I’ve been suffering the entire time. Is it odd that the moment I stop on the pavement I got a stomach ache? I couldn’t get a job and I’ve chosen to drop one summer class. Just from those two things, my parents think it’s reason enough to beat me. To scream at me. To call me ‘retarded’. They didn’t even pay for my classes. My grandmother left me money for college; from things like this… but they think that because I spent it on a class that I dropped, I’m retarded. I can’t comprehend the real world. I’ve been away from this site for so long because I thought I had finally gotten myself out of the hole, but coming back here, I’m shoved right back into it. I got back into cutting, burning, and biting myself. Today I stood on top of the bleachers; as far up as I could get; and stared down at the pavement below. I just wanted to hurl myself down so I could escape the pain. I stood up there for almost an hour. I have one month left here until I go back to campus; a place that doesn’t make me want to die every single day. Just one more month… but if two months is enough to make me want to kill myself again, to give me urges to fall, what’s going to happen this month? I just don’t want to regress any more than I have. The only good news this summer has brought is that I mended old bonds with a friend who was lost. She fought with me and caused me so much pain, and only after going through hell herself, she decided it was time to stop bullshitting everyone. That’s the only good news. That was two months ago. Right now I’m just trying to stop what I’m doing to myself right now. It’s just one more month and I’ll be back, but I don’t know if I’ll make it that long.
I am 19. I used to get bullied and sexually abused when I was in elementary school. In middle school, there was no sexual abuse just bullying, but I met Him. We didn’t go to the same middle school, but he lived across the street from me. I was at his house every day when I got out of school. His brother, Him, and I. We were always alone as their uncle and aunt were always out working or partying. Soon, it was only he and I..together alway. We went to the same highschool and I was bullied no more. He had given me a new confidence and neither of us dated anyone, but continued to be inseperable. He gave me a special blade one day after I had lost someone important to me. I carried it everywhere and one day I had gotten into a fight at school, I had it on me and was expelled though I never used it. We went to different schools now, but I always waited for him to come home after school. During summer break, he held me against the wall and kissed me one night and told me how much he loved me. That same night, I was told that my grandmother had fallen sick with cancer and I had to leave to NY for a few days. We met that night and had a huge fight about my leaving, but I had to leave anyway. A few days turned into 2 months and I had no way of contacting him. My grandmother finally passed and upon my return home, I found that he had had a new girlfriend. We didn’t talk and I self harmed until there was no more room. His family told me that he was torn up after I’d left. I stayed home day after day until I got the call that my sister died. I reopened cuts and cried my eyes out for years. Every time He and I would see each other we’d steal glances and lock eyes. Once, we caught each other walking at night and we hugged and talked. I playfully took his hat and he tickled me. We walked slowly under the stars and embraced when it was time to go. He lingered and we didn’t let go of each others hands until we were too far apart to touch…I love this man. He now has a daughter withhis girlfriend of 3 years…and I have an imaginary friend that looks like him and tells me to kill myself before bed. Does love drive you crazy? Torment…torment of the worst kind.
Not Exactly Sure How To Start These. I’m Just Gonna Wing It.
From The Time I Was In Kindergarden I Was Bullied. Pushed Around, Bothered. No One Really Ever Left Me Alone. It Wasn’t Until 4th Grade It Started Getting Bad. I Started Getting In Trouble In School, I Owed 6,000 Hours Of Community Service By The Time I Had Finished 5th Grade. The Beginning Of 6th My Life Started Going Downhill Fast, My Parents Got Divorced, Week To Week With Mom And Dad. I Was Severely Unwanted At My Dad’s House. My Aunt Lived Next Door And My Uncle Lived Across The Street, I Couldn’t Walk Out My Door Without Getting Dirty Looks From Someone. I Didn’t Understand Why They Hated Me So Much As I Had Never Done Anything To Them. Forced To Go To My Grandparents All The Time When My Father Didn’t Want To Watch Me, My Grandmother Told Me I Was A Devil Child. I’ll Grow Up To Be Just Another Delinquent, Never Amounting To Anything Whoring Myself Off To Get By. I Was 12 I Didn’t Know What That Meant. When My Grandmother Refused To Watch Me, My Sister Would. She Didn’t Have It Easy Either And I Was Alot To Handle.. Whenever She Couldn’t Do It The Cops Would Come Over To Take Care Of Me.. Pretty Much Everyday. I Was Arrested For Assaulting And Officer And After That The Rest Of My Family On My Dads Side Had Disowned Me. My Mom’s Side – There Is No Family. So I’m On My Own. I Started Struggling.. Very Badly With Cutting And My Dad Got Abusive It Wasn’t Until I Had Told The Mediator About That Time My Dad Choked Me Against The Wall, That I Wasn’t Forced To Be There. The Next School Year Started And Over That Summer I Had Lost My Best Friend Annaleighah To Suicide. She Called Me At 3 In The Morning, I Was Grounded And Couldn’t Answer The Phone, My Dad Had Told Her To Stop Being an Idiot And To Stop Calling So Late. The Next Day I Had Gone To Her House To Find Her There.. In Her Bathroom. Wrists Slit Deeper Than I Could Ever Imagine And 7 Bottles Of Pills Completely Gone. I Was Expelled After The First Semester Of 7th Grade. I Had Started At A New School With All New Bullies And An All New Authority System To Deal With. That, Wasn’t Going So Well. Within The First Week Of School I Had Started Getting Letters In My Locke, “Kill Yourself, Or I’ll Do It For You” “Nobody Likes You, You’re Mad To Think You’ll Ever Be Wanted. Do Yourself a Favor And Top Yourself Off Yea?” My Parents Had Put Me In Counseling And Always Had Me Hyped Up On Meds – So I Was Never Really There. Mostly Numb. I Refused To Let My Counceler In And Eventually Started Abusing My Medications. The Only Reason I Continued To Go Without A Fight Was For The Prescription Adderalls. The Next Month They Refilled My Prescriptions And The Night I Got Them, I Took Them All. 8 Different Medications, 60 Pills In Each Bottle And It Didn’t Work. I Woke Up The Next Morning Puking Up Blood And Laughing But That Was As Far As It Went. The End Of 7th Grade Seemed To Come By Fast And I Was Tanking The Year Trying Desperately To Fit In. The Last Week Of School Came Up And I Did Enough Work To Pass Every Class With At Least C’s And D’s But they Refused My Work – Flunked Me And Made Me Repeat The Grade Anyways, But Went Ahead And Expelled Me Sending Me To Yet another School. I Went For The First 3 Weeks.. My English Teacher Had Called Me Out In Class “You Better Stop With Your Little ***** Attitude You Haven’t Done Shit Since You’ve Came To This School. What Are You Even Doing Here?” I Punched Him. Got Arrested Yet Again And Expelled. They Sent Me To A Juvinile Delinquent Facility Where You Are In A Class With A Maximum Of 15 Other Students. That’s where You Go When You Run Out Of schools To Get Kicked Out Of. I Went There For A While and One Day Just Walked Out, Never Came Back. Dropped Out In 7th Grade. Things Started Looking Up For Me, I Built A Very Close And Strong Relationship With My Mother And Made Some Good Friends. I Met A Guy And Lost My Virginity At 13. That’s All He Wanted. I Was Okay With That And To Get Back At Him Got With His Cousin. I Had this Thing For Older Guys – They Were 17 And 18, While I Was 13. But The Guy I Really Wanted Was 22. His Name Was Seth And He Had Graduated With My Older Sister. We Were Friends But Because Of His Job We Never Hung Out Alone. He Finally Made It To See Me, But I Had To Sneak Out At 2 In The Morning For It To Happen. We Went To the Park Right By My House. It Was Cold So We Cuddled And I Had Fallen Asleep. I Woke Up When I Started Getting Colder And Realized He Was Ripping My Pants Of.. I Begged Him To Stop And He Wouldn’t. I Kicked, And Screamed, And Bit And Punched.. But He Banged My Head Into The Concreate We Were On And Tied My Hands Behind My Back With My Pants. He Raped Me. Vaginally And Analy.I Had Passed Out Half Way Through From A Concussion And Woke Up 4 Hours Later Just As The Sprinklers To the Park Had Come On And Got My Pants On And Went Home. I Got Straight Into The Shower And Cried For About 4 Hours. I Didn’t Tell Anyone Until My Friend Had Asked Me Why I Looked Like I Was About To Cry Everytime Anyone Looked At Me, I Told Her What Had Happened And She Called The cops Without Me Knowing. My Mom Found Out and We Went Through The Needed Rape Kit Procedures. The Next Day He Had Called Me And I Let It Go To Voicemail, I Listened To It Curious As To What He Had To Say For Himself And All He Said Was “Hello Sweetheart, I See You” August 3rd, I Was Raped. The 5th The Case Was Opened. And On The 15th, My Birthday.. They ALMOST Let Him Go With Absolutely No Charges Or Fee’s.Â Spent My Entire Birthday Crying And Afraid That He Was Going To come Do It Again. The 1rst Of November He Was Actually Sentenced And Put In Prison. The Hardest Part Of That Wasn’t Being Raped.. Or Talking About It.. Or Seth Even Almost Getting Away With It, The Hardest Part Was The Look On My Moms Face When She Found Out. And The Fact That I Didn’t Tell Her. When We Got Home From My Rape Kit She Had Told Me “Stay Outside. I Don’t Want To See Your Face. Stay Out Here Until I Fall Asleep.” A Month Later My Friend Whitney Hung Herself. Not Much Happened After That. Until Recently.
I Got With My Ex, Justin. He’s 20, Has A 5 Year Old Son. We Were Together For 2 Years, I Live In Idaho And He Lived In Delaware. We Weren’t Able To Meet Eachother And The Distance Became More Harsh On Us. We Broke Up Mutually And Are Best Friends. I Became Close Friends With His Best Friend Dylan Also. Back In April Dylan Was Terribly Upset All Day And I Was Trying To Cheer Him Up But Nothing Was Working. I Felt Horrible That I Couldn’t Help But I Was Falling Asleep I Had Stayed Up All Night With Him And Most Of The Day, I Told Justin What Was Going On And He Took It From There Until He Fell Asleep. Dylan Called Me At 3 In the Morning, I Was Trying To Sleep So I Didn’t Answer It. He Left A Voicemail But I Didn’t Listen To It Right Away And When He Called an Hour Later I Ignored The Call. 10 Minutes Later I Got A Call From Justin By Now I Was Awake From All The Calls And Answered The Phone And Justin Was Crying, Screaming, Breaking Things And Yelling At Me. “You Didn’t Answer, He Called You And You Ignored It. He Fucking Needed You And You Sent Him To Voicemail” Dylan Had Hung Himself 5 Minutes Before Justin Got To His House. And It Was My Fault.
Things Are Harder Now. I Have No Friends Here, I Have The Best Friends Anyone Could Ask For But Their Either In Delaware, Florida, New Zealand, Britain, London, Ireland, Antarctica, Nevada, Nebraska, Or Ohio.. I Mean I Never Leave My House. I’m Just So Desperate For a Hug And A Shoulder To Cry On And None Of That Is In Reach. It’s Difficult Going On With This Guilt Everyday, To Think If I Would Have Just Answered.. Dylan Would Still Be Here.. Or If I Wouldn’t Have Been Grounded Annaleighah Would Still Be Alive.. Or If I Wasn’t So Depressing Whitney Would Still Be Here.
I Mean I Guess That’s The End Of This, lol. Uhh – If You Made It This Far Into My Story, Congratulations? I Guess. You’ve Officially Learned all The Worst Parts Of My Life. And I Dunno Maybe I Can Post Back Here In A While and Tell You All Things Have Looked Up Since Today. Right Now It’s Not Looking So Good.
Thanks For Listening And, Fair Wins – Anonymous
I made an earlier post. You can click it here: http://suicideproject.org/2013/06/200363/
In there, it sounded like everything was great in my life and in my past. I think I should shed some light on that. Everything started when I was five years old.
My grandmother was a terrible woman and I was her latest punching bag. She had done this to my father and was now doing it to me. She would hit me, humiliate me, insult me, and other things as well.
I remember her always calling me trailer trash, no matter what I did or wore. Sometimes, I wasn’t allowed to finish a whole meal because I was ‘too fat’ to keep eating. She would call me a pig if I tried to finish my whole meal. It was horrible. I remember something that has stuck with me for a while.
I was staying over at her house one day. She told me not to answer the phone. Five minutes later, my mom called. I saw the caller ID and automatically picked it up. After I said hi, she snatched the phone from me and talked with her for a while. Then, I was dragged to the kitchen by my shirt.
There, I was yelled at and slapped before being beaten with a wooden spoon. I tried to run but she caught me by my hair. I clawed at the wall, trying to hold myself there so I could escape the hits. She pulled me back and beat me more with the spoon before I ran to the back room and collapsed on the bed, crying.
My five year old cousin came to the doorway of the room and my grandmother was behind him. She said ‘that is what happens to bad people.’
You’re probably wondering why I didn’t tell my mom. Well, I did, after six years of going through all this. I cried it to her while I was on a trip with them and my cousin to Florida. I had used my grandpa’s cell phone to call her and it just all came out. My grandfather told on me and I was dragged to the back room in the condo. She slapped me and yelled at me for telling my mom so called lies.
I haven’t seen her since then. Problem solved, huh? No. It still haunts me. Whenever I think back to it, I feel like it just happened yesterday. I’m even tearing up now as I write this down.
That was the first thing that happened. Just the tip of my ice burg. Then came the bullying.
I transferred to a new school district when I started sixth grade, the worst time to go to a new school with new people. I was stuck with people who had known each other since kindergarten and I was alone. I was vulnerable and preyed on for it. A girl would harass me everyday in class.
She didn’t care what time of day it was, what we were doing, if she wanted to bully me, she did. She would follow me around the cafeteria and the classroom. It got to the point where I was begging my mom to not make me go to school each day. Finally, I told my mom about it all.
You would think I should have just told her when it all happened. Not that easy. The experience with my grandmother had programmed me to not think I was worth of being saved, that I deserved that treatment. Only when I was pushed to the edge did I tell. I had been pushed to the edge and I then told.
The rest of the year was still hard. The whole class ganged up on me, not just her. It’s harder to deal with an entire class rather than just one person. One day, I had a point where I snapped in class. A girl had insulted me and then turned away. I had a newly sharpened pencil stabbed her in the bag with it.
All it did was shock her and the class.
The next year was drama drama drama.
Also, it was when my depression to its first major dip. My thoughts turned to that of killing myself. I told my counselor and all she basically said was to be positive. I was thinking about killing myself while I had depression I was being told to be positive. Fucking stupid thing to say if you ask me.
That same year, the thoughts increased until I had to tell them. I was put on two new medications. They worked for a while and the next year was better for me.
Over the summer, though, things went really down hill. I started having extreme anxiety attacks, just feeling like I was about to die. I also overdosed on half a bottle full of 200mg pills. I was in the hospital two days, lucky my liver hadn’t been damaged.
That school year was good at first. Then, it took a turn for the worst. The bullying started up again and at full force. In my math class, people yelled at me, insulted me, threw things at me (I.e food, paper, pencils, etc.), and I was being harassed again.
This girl was relentless. She threw rocks at me, pencils, stuck gum in my hair, shouted at me, and tried running me down in the gym. I only escaped that because a friend tapped my arm and I jumped away just in time. She ran straight through exactly where I had been standing. If I hadn’t moved, she would have run me down and just run right over me.
Eventually, the school got involved and she was put in another gym class. Then, after a few weeks, she transferred schools as well. Probably her parents doing.
After Spring break, I was back in school and missed the bus to my other campus. I went to the library but the librarian had to go to lunch so I went to the front office. I was sitting in an office chair behind the front desk when a blank spot just happened.
I was told that I fell off the chair, started convulsing, and then didn’t breathe for so long my face turned blue. It stopped just before it was fatal and I relaxed, still unconcious. When I opened my eyes, everything was hazy because my brain was fogged and my glasses had fallen off. I lifted myself up a bit, looked over the desk before laying back down and falling asleep.
Next thing I know, my glasses were being put back on me and I was being loaded into an ambulance via a stretcher. That was incredibly scary and I cried half of the ride to the hospital.
Some cautionary tests were taken, the one that found I had epilepsy being a just in case one. It was taken weeks after the seizure had happened and the seizure brainwaves were still there so it was a pretty severe seizure.
Well, now I had depression and epilepsy to deal with. But it doesn’t stop there.
The next year, I reached my lowest point ever. I fell into the deepest hole I thought possible. Whenever I was close to coming up, I would fall and the whole would be even deeper.
I started to cut myself to distract from the constant pain in me. Everything was overwhelming me and I couldn’t take it. I tried to slit my wrists but nothing happened, the blade wasn’t sharp enough.
I snapped a month before my birthday and went crazy on my mom. I slapped her multiple times and she called the police. I turned into a mad woman, banging and screaming at her bedroom door before it all wore off. I went back upstairs and got in bed only to be awakened later, put in cuffs, and shoved in a police car.
The next day was one of the most unpleasant ones I’ve ever had and that’s saying something.
After that, I was on another steady decline. Things had been going down since sixth grade but so slowly it was hardly noticed. Now, an avalanche had seemed to happen. Something broke off an caused everything to lose control. I tried overdosing again and renewed my efforts in cutting. My mom found out and tried to help me stop.
Another thing happened. I developed a fear of people and leaving my house. Whenever I was around people, I would go into a huge anxiety attack and just break. For two weeks, I was let out of school by my mom since I was literally incapable of going.
She made arrangements for me to go to a treatment center which I did. It was hell at first. I was so traumatized at that point that I couldn’t even leave the nurses station. It was from that to not being able to leave my room. Slowly, I got a bit better and I had more tests on me.
Turns out, I had two more conditions I didn’t know about. Cerebral Disrhythmia. It is a disorder that mixes up your senses and causes problems. Mine was in the limbic system (emotions) and gave me abnormal emotional reactions for things. That was where my anxiety to people had come from.
After a little over 6 weeks, I was taken home. For a while after that, things were amazing. Nothing good ever seems to last for me, though. The bullying returned in a class of mine.
These people insulted me, threw paper at me, food at me, and stuck things to my back. Other people threw paper balls at me from across the room(one person threw paper with their name on it). Then, hey were throwing gummy bears right in my face. That stopped after some weeks.
I also have another disorder. A non-verbal learning disorder. The only difference between that and azberger’s is that I’m not autistic. Read up on azberger’s and you’ll know what I’m talking about.
Well, that’s my story. All of it. All that has happened to me but in a summarized version. Hope I shed some light on my earlier post. :/
It’s nearly midnight and what’s happening? The thoughts are returning…..The voices are speaking..no, YELLING at me >.< I can hear them now….. “Die ***** die!” “Who says you’re worth living?” “You don’t deserve to live. Your own parents didn’t even want you. HA!”
The thoughts destroy me, kill me, suffocate me, eat me alive. My demons…they’re real. They exist. I don’t want to go on but..I have to. Not just for myself. I’m not living for myself anymore. I’m living for him. And her. For them. They may not care about me but I love them with all my heart.
It’s like…I can scream at them and tell them to look at me and my scars and they would say nothing. I feel the only time where they’ll ever say that they truly loved me is when they’re standing above my freshly dug grave, placing flowers on the tombstone that reads: “Rebekah ****. Now, everybody loves me. March 20, 19**- December 1, 20*”.
Who would even care? My family won’t. It’s not like there’s someone out there who REALLY loves me. I don’t know true love and true love doesn’t care for a person like me. I’m too small for boys to like. “You’re adorable but your boobs are too small.” That’s ALWAYS the reason that they don’t ask me out.
The ones who have told me they loved me took what they wanted and left the next day. I despise the day when I meet someone I truly love and I find out that he’ll be nothing but another player that does what he wants, gets in my pants, between my thighs, and leaves without a trace.
I wonder what my grandmother would say if she found my body just lying here on the floor with this page open and this blog unpublished..would she cry? Be too shocked to speak? Publish this with a small eulogy at the bottom?
What about my body? Would I have hung myself? Maybe cut an artery? I would shoot myself if I had a gun. Would I have overdosed on her medicines or took a pill and downed a whole bottle of mouthwash (alcohol)? Would I sneak away one of her syringes and inject an air bubble into my system? I don’t know what I want to do anymore. All I know…..is that I don’t want to live anymore. Not really.
Well, I’m not alive actually. I died years ago…when that man did that thing to me that put me in this position. Suffering from a ton of different mental and eating disorders. It’s his fault for all of this. I hate him. With all my heart. I long for the day where I get the chance to murder him. My head is pounding. The voices are speaking. Cut. Cut. Cut. Die. Die. Die. Worthless. Worthless. Worthless.
I’m screaming for help but nobody’s listening…I can’t take this anymore!! I’m done!!
Hi! Now, let me start off by saying that I am not full of the same deep-seated depression as many of you are.
My family loves me, I was never molested, I haven’t even cut myself. But I still want to commit suicide.
Not now, not even tomorrow. But upon reaching a certain age, I have not decided upon the age yet – it may be 60 or 70 even. But I will do it.
I know what you’re thinking -Â Well, if he’s got a good life, why would he kill himself? That’s just plain selfish!
But the thing is, I’m Asexual. I won’t ever have a wife to mourn me or children to leave heartbroken on my demise. Hopefully, when I eventually go, no one will even notice my passing.
I will admit, the dreariness of life has sometimes led to me wanting to just end it all sooner, but my obligations to my family won’t let me. But by that age, when I’m getting older and nearing the end of my life, well, hopefully I can just check out without hurting too many folks.
I’m sure you want reasons behind my words – well, the reason is simple; I want total control of my life. I can think of nothing more ignoble than being diagnosed with some ailment and dying on a hospital bed – unable to even speak. It happened to my grandmother, and I swore to myself that I would NEVER allow myself to reach that state, with tubes and needles sticking out of me.
Besides, I hate the elderly. And I would hate to become one of those bitter, evil-minded codgers who despises youth and change. I will at least have the good grace to pass on of my own accord and leave the world to spin on without me.
Like the title says, this is just a rant about my trials and tribulations. I don’t really know if posting my story will be of any use to anyone but I just couldn’t leave this world without anyone knowing about it. I guess someone should know, even if they don’t really know me. But in all honesty I don’t know if anybody really knows the real me. I wear a mask and pretend to be “normal”. So nobody really knows. They’ll probably never find out either because this page doesn’t link to me in any way. But I figured somebody should know my story and this site would be the place to post it. After all, that’s what the slogan says right? “The suicide project.. share your suicide stories with others”
Oh wow! I just realized that I just went on ranting about the reasons for my rantings…haha! I really am crazy!
I guess once I do the deed, if I can gather up the courage to do it that is, people around me will wonder “why did she do it? she looked fine and she had so much going for her”.. Well I asked myself the same questions for a long long time until I recently found out the root cause for all this. Like most depressed people I used to do a lot of reading on depression and related psychology stuff. So one of the main things they say is that the reason for most people to have depression stems from childhood abuse and trauma. I always skipped these explanations because I didn’t think that I experienced anything of the sort. Then one day after seeing this explanation for the millionth time in an article I decided to find out what this was all about. What did they mean by “abuse”? It turns out there are various forms of abuse and sexual abuse and physical abuse, the ones that immediately comes to mind are only two of them. There are also many forms of psychological abuse which can occur where the behavior of their parent damages the confidence and self esteem of the child or young person, resulting in serious emotional deprivation or trauma. Well in my case it was probably not that serious but it did happen and there were many reasons for this. It started with my father going abroad after my brother was born. My mother was under a lot of pressure and she took it out on me. As a kid I felt safe when my dad was around and when he was not I felt scared. Even after we went to where my dad was and both my parents were there it was the same. My mother would scold me so much and she would always tell me that I was an accident and that nobody wanted me when I was born because I was too ugly. She told me that my grandmother cried when she knew my mother was pregnant with me and that she, my mother, had no choice but to have me even though she didn’t want me. And after I was born she said the doctor brought me out and even though my dad and my grandparents were all there nobody wanted to take the baby from the doctor because I was too dark and ugly. Finally the doctor was surprised and looking at everyone’s faces at which point my grandmother felt bad and so she took me. I have heard this story time in and time out all through out my childhood. It was as if my mother felt some sort of satisfaction or gratification in telling this story to me over and over again. She would laugh while telling it as if it was some joke. But as a child I couldn’t understand why it was funny. Every time the story was told, I’d just sit there silently while everyone else laughed. Anyways, that is how I came into this world. A miserable ugly wretch, unwanted by my own parents and grandparents.
This was just a passive form of abuse. The more active form started later on in my teens. I used to have problems with my friends and I used to go to my mother for advice. She would listen to me and always point out that it was my fault that I was having problems and when we had fights she would always say that my friends didn’t like me because “how could anybody like you when your own mother doesn’t like you”. This rings in my head every time I meet somebody. Its so painful to hear those words in my head. I always expect people to eventually dislike me and leave me. I was so surprised when someone fell in love with me. I guess I was expecting it to eventually fall apart because I always had this phrase ringing in my head. It was like how could anyone love me when people don’t even like me. I guess that’s why I behaved in a self destructive manner by screwing up everything including my career to be with him. I just couldn’t believe that some one loved me and I just held on to it with all my might. But that move was just another nail in my coffin.
And then a lot of stuff happened with this relationship. He was a bit controlling and his parents didn’t like me. We were engaged and about to get married but the parents called off the wedding at the last moment. Anyways these things just dragged me deeper and deeper into my depressive state until it became almost unbearable. I developed a lot of anti-social behaviors. I found it difficult to talk with people if there are many people there. I just got stuck, blacked out, nothing came to mind and I just sat there like an idiot. It still happens to me even now. I get scared that if I say something people will dislike me and leave. It made me more irritated and trivial things set me off into anxiety attacks. I used to scream in my room for hours like a crazy person. And I used to get into fights with my mother and when my brother was there when this happened he would beat me. I’d have bruises all over me afterwards. But my mother would always defend my brother and say that it was my fault for aggravating him. I couldn’t do anything. I’d just cover all my bruises the best I can and get on with my life because I was too ashamed to tell anyone.
Things didn’t get any better after I started working. The panic attacks worsened and I started becoming suicidal. That’s when I decided to seek help and I went to see a psychiatrist all on my own one day after a failed suicide attempt. The f***er gave me anti-depressants after talking to me for 5 mins and sent me off on my way and moved on to the next patient. I was patient number 50. Needless to say, it didn’t work. I took the meds as directed in the morning and it made me feel better, but as it wore off towards the evening I felt more agitated than ever and the anxiety attacks were worse. So I stopped them. Then I told this to my mother and I asked them to please take me somewhere where I can get help. But they didn’t really understand the situation and the main thing they were concerned about was bumping into someone we know while at a psychiatrists place and about people finding out their perfect little girl was f***ed up. So they told me “lets do it once we go abroad”. So after I quit my job and went to where my dad worked, I decided to bring this up again because they seemed to have forgotten it and they acted as if everything was okay. I had never talked about this with both my parents so I sat them both down and I told them “look here, there is something wrong with me. I am sad all the time and suicidal at times. Maybe I should get help before I start on anything else.” Well they listened at the time but they didn’t do anything.
While all this was going on I also went through a couple of failed relationships. I guess I just make myself a doormat to please them because I can’t believe someone would be interested in me. So they wipe their feet on me and leave me to clean up the mess. After the first relationship the next two were much older guys. The second was 8 years my senior and all he wanted was to have fun. I didn’t see it. It ended up in him using me and throwing me out of his life once he was done without so much as a decent apology. A few months ago, this jerk-off got married and he sent me an invite on LinkedIn to get back in touch with me and to let me know of this. The next guy was 10 years my senior. He lied about his age at first but I let it go because we really connected. After a couple of months, he disappeared. His number didn’t work and I couldn’t contact him through any other means. This took a huge toll on my already fragile mental state. When I Googled his name, I couldn’t find anyone with that name and the details he had given me. He said he didn’t use Facebook and I didn’t bother to check this stuff. After searching the web using countless search terms, I came across this guy having the same details but a different name. And to my surprise, this guy was on Facebook and it turned out that it was him and he was married. They had just celebrated their 7th anniversary around the time he met me.
I guess you can imagine what all this did to my already fragile self-confidence and mental state. After all this, I went back to guy number one and we decided to get married, even though the situation was not ideal, what with all his parents objections. But it turned out to be a classic case of marrying in haste and repenting in leisure. I had developed a few bad habits along the way and having a few drinks(alcohol) was one of them. He didn’t like it and we fight about it all the time. He knows about my problems but he pretends that there is nothing wrong with me. He gets annoyed with me when I get depressed. Just like my parents. he doesn’t understand my condition either.
After laying out all the facts like this, I can see that I have taken many wrong turns. Hindsight, as they say, is a wonderful thing but I don’t see how it can help my situation though. Maybe its evolution at work. Maybe I am a weak mutation which is not to survive for the sake of evolution. I don’t really understand all the reasons as to why I am where I am right now. But at the end of the day, I don’t hate anyone. I refuse to die with hatred in my heart. My parents may have made mistakes but I know they never meant to hurt me. My brother treated me the way he did because he didn’t know what he was doing to me and because he too was damaged in a different way. The guys I loved treated me the way they did because I let them treat me that way. There is no point in hating them for it. So at the end of the day, I forgive them all and I do not hate them. I was just not meant to live. I was just not fit for this world. Its just the process of natural selection at work. I know my actions will hurt the people around me. I just hope they can forgive me and that they can move on with their lives without letting my actions have too much of a negative impact on their lives. I maybe naive to hope that but that is all I can do.
I feel like maybe I can actually do something for the good. I try to make everyone happy but at the end of the day I’m not. I feel bad for getting angry with myself for stuff I can’t control. Maybe I will wake up tomorrow with a smile on my face and feel better. I can only hope. I hope everyone is doing good tonight.
Im 19, A few years after I was Born my parents divorced and my mom and I moved away from the big city to a smaller city not to far. The divorced didnt effect me much because I was so young but it showed in my mother and she began to drink a lot.
by the time I was in grade 3 I was very unhappy with life, There was rarely any food to eat in the house and I was in a very abusive relationship with my mother. I was regularly running away from home and staying with my grandmother who lived in the same city. Â unfortunately my grandmother was very old and unable to take care of me full time.
When I got into grade 4 I was still going thru the same things at home and was an outcast at school, regularly getting suspended and into fights.
I had a few friends but had a hard time relating with other kids.
Fed up with life I just needed to talk to someone so i contacted the school guidance councilor and she issured me everything would be our little secret. I told her everything and she lied and got childrens aid involved.
this sparked a huge investigation in my mom and made her very unhappy. I didnt know what to do I was was scared of being thrown into another family so I went with my moms stories and lied to them,
that summer I tried to hang myself but the rope broke, I tried wrapping it around my neck and passed out. when I woke up shocked to be alive my neck was bruised and sore, and I thought about what my grandma and grandpa would do if i had actually killed myself.
My grandparents were the only people to spend quality time with me as a kid. they where the only people to believe in me and keep me going all these years.
After that still unhappy with life I decided that I wasnt going to kill myself while my grandparents where alive and the only option was to suck it up and go on with life. I was now old enough to stop the beatings and abuse from my mom and spent most of my days drawing alone locked in my room.
In grade 6 I had a horrible relationship with my teacher, She was constantly picking on me and making examples of me to the class. I began to get picked on and i lashed out, resulting in many days of inschool suspention and finally she held me back to repeat grade 6.
I couldnt believe it, I had never heard of someone failing a grade in elementry school. I was convinced it was my mom and the teachers fault.
I started to think about killing myself again. I contacted my dad still living in the big city, explained my situation and asked if I could come live with him. he agreed and I packed up and moved in with him.
Things started to finally look up, I got in with the popular kids at my new school, had no problem getting girls, started to gain lots of confidence and was doing really well in school getting honors for grade 6,7,8. I hadn’t even thought about killing myself once since I left my moms.
In grade 8 my dad began to get more strict and school oriented, grounding me all the time and making me come home early study. I was already doing well in school and just wanted to hang out and have fun with my friends.
I began to start visiting my mom again on the weekends who had cleaned up her act and found a new boyfriend with a good job that she moved in with.
When I graduated elementry school I was upset with how strict my father was being and I longed for the freedom my mother gave me on the weekends. So I told my Dad I wanted to go back and live with my mom an her boyfriend.
My Dad didnt seem to keen saying that my mother was irresponable and things wont be the way I thought, I didnt listen and went to live with my mother anyway.
That summer I had more fun then I had ever had in my life, staying out all night with friends partying and caring on I never wanted it to end.
Then highschool started, Missing the summer fun, I got heavy into the party crowd, partying every night, nd selling and doing as much drugs as I could get my hands on. this distructive path continued until one night I crashed a stolen car almost killing me and 3 other passengers.Â after that I knew I had to stop everything I was doing so i didnt hurt myself or anyone else.
When I recovered and got back to school everyone had already heard.. everyone was making fun of me. I felt like I had no one and slipped into a depressive state for 6 months sleeping every single day waking up only to use the bathroom and eat what food my mom left at the door for me.
I finally snapped out of it but never went back to school.
I knew I didnt want to live anymore but didnt know if suicide was the answer so I turned back to the life of drugs, andÂ partying.
the next summer I Â got pulled over for a D.U.I, lost my licence and havent had a car since. which really puts a damper on my life in a city with limited public transit.
I Started going out every night, making as much money as I could, doing as many drugs as I could and having sex with as many girls as i could.
until one day I notice some bumps in my genital area, i think its nothing but still decided to get checked out… turns out it was HPV and a few months later it had spread covering my whole genital area. i went back and saw my doctor and he said there was nothing he could do and it would go away on its own If I stay healthy.
I quit drugs, drinking and smoking cold turkey, started working out. but I Â wouldnt take no for an answer saw another doctor that had them burned off but they kept coming back.
Its been 2 and a half years now, Ive stayed off drugs and ive tried everything i could find or do to get rid of them with no result.
This is where I am now. I hate my life. I literally lost all my friends, never finished highschool and work a shitty job at a fast foodÂ restaurant.Â Im living pay check to pay check, and I come home every night to my empty basement apartment full of sorrow and regret.
For the last year I go to bed every night hoping I dont wake up And hope to get hit by a car everytime I go out. ive been seriously contemplating suicide again, even day dreaming about it. At first I didnt think I could do it, thinking about how it could affect everyone in my life but these past couple days ive been thinking FUCK everyone else IM unhappy, IM the one who has to go thru this everyday, IM the one that hates myself.
They wouldnt understand what im going thru. And These past couple days ive been seriously thinking about doing it, even picked out the tree and have the rope I would use.
But something inside me says dont do it. I dont know what else to do or who to talk to. I feel like a lost soul walking the earth just waiting to be set free
This Is My Story
I know there are people with bigger problems, but this is really bothering me.
Hereâ€™s a short description of me: Iâ€™m 16, average looking guy, average at sports, not a nerd, very smart, good person…this is me:
My parents think that I have a great life and a lot of friendsâ€¦but Iâ€™m just acting so they donâ€™t have to worry about me. My dad is the problem. He treats me like a kid and everything is my fault. If he gets mad at my sister, I must suffer too. I can see that almost everyone from my family and cousins see a huge failure when they look at me. My mom, grandfather, grandmother, and one cousin are only people that ever showed me love.
You ever feel like that your insides just exploded with emotion because you bottle up your feelings and just put the best “happy face” that you can put on ? Then go through school every week, seeing others be happy while you’re just standing there awkwardly, thinking how you want to be them and that you’re dying on inside. You even start to feel like a huge failure in every way possible, you can’t even look at yourself in the mirror anymore cause you hate what you see. That’s me.
At school, people are making fun of me and calling me freak, fool and I donâ€™t even know why ! Whatever I say, itâ€™s stupid or not funny and at the end Iâ€™m the guy that nobody likes. I’m not shy. I talk to people and to everyone at school (when there are just 2 of us), but when there is a group of people, Iâ€™m the one who doesnâ€™t belong there and they want me away. I sometimes slouch in school and it makes people approach me to ask me why I look so down, but knowing they wont understand, I just tell them I’m tired.
I have some friends but they are not “true” friends (they are in my life so I can just talk to someone). I get criticized and insulted by my “friends” all the time, even though they say they are joking, the jokes are really cruel. People also say I complain, when in truth I am just suggesting something or adding to a conversation by making a counter statement. I can’t get new friends or any girls to have interest me because no one wants to talk to a boring, lame, observant, loser who has no life and nothing interesting happening. When there’s a huge party, I’m not invited and when I ask why I wasn’t invited, they say “Sorry bro, we forgot”. They say that every time. But these friends are better than no friends, right ?
I had only 1 TRUE friend but even he left me. He was just like me, same personality, not so many friends, not so popular.. He got popular and started hanging out with other people. I started hating him. It’s like I was jealous of him because of the attention he was getting. I felt horrible about myself, because he got out of it, out of this “zone of lonelyness” and I didn’t. He started to behave the way others do. Now he treats me like everyone else…like I’m an idiot…it’s like we never were friends…I just lost my f***ing best friend so f*** it I guess then…
People are not bullyng me (physicly). Everybody is avoiding fights with me and that’s a good thing.
I never had a girlfriend. I have never been loved. I have never been hugged. Never. I have never been looked in the eye and told from the heart that I matter. Every girl I ever loved or liked ignored me. I know that there’s nothing wrong with not having a girlfriend at my age but all my “friends” have a girlfriend and it kinda makes me sad. When our little group goes in town to hang out, they all go with their girlfriends exept me. It’s really akward.
You may think that I think too much about others but I’m mostly thinking about myself like “Why is this happening to me?” or “Are others true? Am I really what they say I am?”…things like that.
I rarely smile and I’m more serious than ever. I’m also cold. I don’t care for anybody exept myself. It’s like emotions don’t exist in me anymore.
I’m into music and I quess that is the thing that keeps my mind away from all this crap at the moment (I’m just listening to music, not playing an instrument).
People tell me to be positive, but how can I be positive when s*** around me is negative ?
I don’t know how, why or when I ended up being in this position I’m in. I’m not trying to be someone else, I am myself. No one seems to know my struggle and I’m not planning to tell anyone ’cause I know they won’t undetstand.
I’m not suicidal.Â I’m not emo, I don’t do drugs, drink (ok, sometimes I drink, but I never got drunk), and I’m so good to other people and life is returning me THIS way…it’s just f***ed up….
I just want to get out of this crap. Help me maybe ?
It doesnâ€™t hurt to grow up poor. It doesnâ€™t hurt when your daughter is born with medical problems. It doesnâ€™t hurt not being there when your father died. It doesnâ€™t hurt not being there when your step-father died. It doesnâ€™t hurt when you sacrifice happiness for duty. It doesnâ€™t hurt having your dog put down. It doesnâ€™t hurt not being there when your grandmother died. It doesnâ€™t hurt not being there when your â€œotherâ€ mother died. It doesnâ€™t hurt not being there when your uncle died. It doesnâ€™t hurt when you sacrifice happiness for others. It doesnâ€™t hurt watching others destroy what you built. It doesnâ€™t hurt watching your wifeâ€™s Grandmother die. It doesnâ€™t hurt having your cat put down. It doesnâ€™t hurt not being there to stop your Brother from pulling the trigger. It doesnâ€™t hurt burying your dog. It doesnâ€™t hurt watching your Mother die slowly and painfully. It doesnâ€™t hurt not being there for your Grandsons funeral. It doesnâ€™t hurt not being there when your son has open heart surgery. It doesnâ€™t hurt not being there when your wifeâ€™s Grandfather died. It doesnâ€™t hurt not being there to stop your Step-brother from pulling the trigger. It doesnâ€™t hurt when you watch your Sister-in-law die. It doesnâ€™t hurt not seeing your son for 6 years. It doesnâ€™t hurt not seeing your Granddaughter for 6 years. It doesnâ€™t hurt having Granddaughters youâ€™ve never met. It doesnâ€™t hurt not being in your sonâ€™s hospital room. It doesnâ€™t hurt having a inflammatory abdominal aortic aneurism. It doesnâ€™t hurt knowing your son has the same thing. It doesnâ€™t hurt having a ruptured disk in your back. It doesnâ€™t hurt waiting for medical treatment. It doesnâ€™t hurt to walk, sit, lie down, or take a deep breath. It doesnâ€™t hurt to not be able to help your children. It doesnâ€™t hurt to not be able to pay your bills. It doesnâ€™t hurt to beg. It doesnâ€™t hurt to give up things you love. It doesnâ€™t hurt having your heart torn out, again. It doesnâ€™t hurt to be lied to, again. It doesnâ€™t hurt to be talked about. It doesnâ€™t hurt watching loved ones in pain. It doesnâ€™t hurt to sacrifice everything for others who don’t care.
It hurts knowing that this isnâ€™t all that doesnâ€™t hurt.
I’m new here, but I’ve been following this site for a few months now. I triedÂ committing suicide almost a year ago. I wasÂ hospitalized for about 3 days before going into a psychiatric hospital for a week. It scared the hell out of me. I promised myself I never wanted to end up there again. The only people that know about this are my parents and my sister I was too ashamed to tell my best friend or any other family members. I did actually tell one friend from online but she completely laughed at me. Told me I was such a wuss Â trying to commit suicide and then telling my parents about it afterwards. I was scared. I tried overdosing on 90 different pills. I woke up (I was so upset it hadn’t worked). But a few hours later I started feeling very sick, headache, my lips were turning bluish, and I was so cold. I didn’t want to die a slow painful death.
Anyways I was doing good for a few months. I was on an anti-depressant. ButÂ the medicine made meÂ extremelyÂ hungry. All I thought about was food. I wanted off the pill but myÂ psychiatrist told me to just give it some time. By december I had gain 10 pounds so I decided the next time I saw my doctor I would tell him I wanted off it for good. HeÂ prescribedÂ me new medication but my mom hasn’t filled it in. She hates the thought of me being on medication since I’ve been on so many in the past for different health reasons. And she monotors my medication. I’m not aloud to handle meds what so ever and all our medication is locked somewhere. So I’ve been off medication since the beginning of December.
New Years is when reality sort of hit me and the depression came back. The reason I had tried to kill myself in the first place was because I was stressed out in school. At the time I was majoring in graphic design but figure out I didn’t want to major in it anymore. I wanted to drop out of my graphic class and my mom was upset. She started questioning me about what was I going to do the rest of my life, if you aren’t in school or working I’m kicking you out, do you want to work atÂ McDonald’s? It wasn’t just the stress and the pressure but also because I don’t have any friends (besides my best friend who has moved to a different country recently), I have sever acne, never had a boyfriend or been kissed, never had a job, not smart or pretty. I felt like a complete failure (I still think I am). This year I’ve taken a break from school. Only taking 1-2 classes a semester to try to figure out what I want to major in. But now that it’s time for me to transfer to a Uni I have no idea what I want to do still. Nothing interests me. And ever advisor has yelled at me or completely given up hope on me.
So now I’m back to my depressed and suicidal self again and I hate it. I thought I was going to be okay but here it is almost a year to the date of trying to commit suicide and I want to do it again. I have no idea what I want to do with my life. I’m 20 years old. No job still, no idea what I want to major in (when I already have 60 credits), a burden to my parents, no friends, and also suffering from badÂ anxietyÂ lately. I don’t want to tell them because I know they’ll beÂ disappointedÂ and just worry about me. But I have no one to talk to. I hate myÂ psychiatrist- He doesn’t do anything but hand me medication.
At times I feel like I’ll be okay. I’ll transfer to a University figure out what I want to major in, meet some people, get out of the house, and be independent. But I’m so afraid! I have anxiety thinking about leaving my parents and my home. I’m afraid I won’t meet anyone and I’ll be even more depressed and actually go through with killing myself since my parents won’t be around.
I just don’t know anymore. I wish I had died that day so I won’t have these feelings anymore but at the same time I’mÂ grateful because I do love my family and they do mean the world to me.Â I’m so sorry this is so long.