Do you ever look back at your life and just instantly break down in tears? I am 18 years old, and in all of those 18 years I have done nothing productive for myself or for this world. I never tried in school, I really just barely got by. I never focused on building strong friendships or relationships, or at least never succeeded in them. I played soccer for most of my life, but was never great. I like to sing and play guitar, but I’m mediocre at best. I never excelled at anything I did, i just existed. The part that frustrates me most, is that I COULD’VE done really well at a lot of these things, but didn’t try. I know I had the potential to be a straight A student if I had put in the effort. I could’ve been a really great soccer player, maybe even gone to college for it, if I practiced more. Why didn’t I care? Looking back, if i could start over, or even just start high school over, I would do every single thing differently. I hate where I am in life right now, but I know there is no one to blame but myself. And its too late to start now. I feel already so behind in life that theres no point.
I turned eighteen almost a month ago, and I had been in a remission type deal from my Major depressive Disorder for about six months. Until last week. I feel no motivation to do anything. It takes so much effort to take a shower at night, I went from taking full showers at night, to half showers (standing in the corner of the tub and just washing my hair), and then to saying “I’ll just take one in the morning” and end up allowing all three of my alarms to go off and hopping in the shower to wash my hair five minutes before I have to leave for school. Throughout my depression, getting out of bed had never been an issue except for twice, and for this last week it has been a struggle every single day. I am truly frustrated. I have been admitted in a hospital before; I was fifteen, it was my sophomore year and I was self harming. Now is a different story. I feel so down. My depression is purely episodic and lasts for months on end. I’m supposed to graduate high school at the end of next month and start college in August, and I was planning to work all summer. But now, I’m not so sure. This depression right now is so bad that when I try and focus in school, the words I’m hearing from my teacher’s mouths just muffles and my thoughts block the actual words I’m hearing out (if that makes any sense at all). I can’t focus, I can’t do my work, I can’t even do anything without getting pissed. I’ve been on four or five different meds and I’m probably on my sixth therapist in two and a half years. I’m just struggling with my everyday tasks, everything is overwhelming me and sometimes I think the only way out would be to end it all. I have all the hospital information worked out, I have already prepared a psychiatric advance directive and so I know where I want to go if I do, I would just like to sort out other personal affairs before going. I don’t know if I should but I really really want to…. Is that bad? I’m tired of worrying about depression episodes all of the time. I’m tired of being depressed. I’m also currently on Effexor ER, Adderall ER, and in biweekly therapy. What do I do?
I’m a 17 year old girl in my senior year of high school. I don’t do terribly in school, but i also don’t do great. I’m kind of mediocre at everything I do. I’m also kind of a pot head. I don’t get along great with my parents, we have really different views on everything. I have always had a good amount of friends, but recently started drifting from a lot of them. I have one best friend, and she is sort of my only friend at the moment. Don’t get me wrong, I love her like a sister, and she is a really good person, but even with her always around, I still always feel alone. I feel like i’m different than everyone else, and I can’t really connect with people. I just feel like high school is supposed to be this great big part of your life, and some of the most memorable years. I want to enjoy being young and be free and happy while I can, but i really hate high school. I consider myself a pretty girl, I’m in good shape, long blonde hair, kind smile. (not meaning any of that in a conceited way, I usually don’t think or talk highly of myself at all). But i’ve never had a boyfriend. All of my friends are always in and out of relationships. Going on dates, falling in love, being happy. I really want that. I just don’t know whats wrong with me. Guys only want to hook up with me, but never want to actually have a conversation with me. And its not just that boys will be boys, and all guys only want sex, because all of my other friends seem to have no problem finding guys that are genuinely interested in them. I don’t know, I just feel like I’m never really good enough. Im in the process of applying to colleges and stuff, which is exciting. I really want to get out of here and start somewhere new. I really hope that college will be my time. I just want to belong somewhere.
I’m just going to put this here for me to re-read when I’m at a low point. Kind of as a public time-capsule. Bear with me as it’s going to be a lot about I-Me-My.
I was born to a single mom with a lot of personal issues. She was a pretty promiscuous party girl during my early childhood. She dated, and we lived with a few
different drug dealers before I was even 3, not that I minded at that age. I temporarily lived with my grandma for a year from 3 to 4. I don’t have any memory of
this but apparently, according to my family who lives by the rules of Lifetime original movie exaggeration, it really bummed me out. When my mom finally took
me back she constantly had new and increasingly more worthless boyfriends. I didn’t mind her dating, honestly. That’s whatever as far as I’m concerned. But early
on some of the guys she would date were abusive towards me both sexually and physically. It was a rough time. Over the course of my childhood, as the oldest, my
mom had five other kids all with different dads. Way to go, someone deserves a gold medal. As I got older, my responsibility to be a surrogate father for my siblings
was increasingly foisted upon me. I hate to be so flowery in my writing, but it’s just my personality, I can’t quite get over it as much as I’m trying to.
My mom would work all day, party all night and then come home for a few hours. When she was home, she was angsty, angry, tired, and not in the mood for parenting.
Not to say that she didn’t make an effort, we still did fun stuff on occasion like go to the park, eat out, go on drives, etc. She tried. But regardless, the problem wasn’t
when she was there usually. It was when she wasn’t. When she wasn’t there I had to make sure that the house was clean, the kids ate, that they did their homework,
etc. It got to the point where it was beyond babysitting. And I wasn’t skilled in any sense of the word. I didn’t’ realize it but I had some severe emotional problems as a
kid. Things that didn’t make sense until I understood the implications of abuse as a teenager.
I was pretty violent as a kid, I can’t lie. My younger siblings found it hard to comply with me and what I needed them to do, rightfully so, I was barely older than any
of them and sometimes my demands were pretty angry by nature since that’s the only way I had heard them. But I had the responsibility and if I didn’t fulfill it, I was
the one who was punished. So, fastforwarding to this pattern happening for a few months or so, when the- almost said ‘the kids’. When my brothers and sisters didn’t
do what I needed them to, I’d get physically violent with them. Especially my younger brother. I think it was because he was so good and sweet and innocent. In many
ways everything I wished I was at the time. They didn’t deserve it, and I didn’t need to be so aggressive. The punishment wasn’t even that bad in hindsight. I think I just
tricked myself into a low pain threshold and it made me think it was worse than it was at the time.
Eventually, I made it to what in my area, we call intermediate school. It’s a school for just sixth and seventh grade and is intended to prepare kids for middle school.
It was about this time that my whole soul sank into an incalculable depression. Far beyond what I think any kid my age could have imagined. I didn’t know this yet, but
would find out in time, that I also had very bad seizures in my sleep that was adding to the problem by perpetuating a deep fatigue that I couldn’t overcome. Couple this
with insomnia from a time when my mom’s boyfriend came into my room when I was very young. It was a recipe for disaster. My body starts getting all these hormones and
feelings, and I was doing very poorly in school, like straight ‘F’s despite testing the highest in the state every year on end of level testing. I began to dive deep into self loathing.
I didn’t ‘cut’ or anything like that but self harm was a big pass-time of mine when I was done with school. I’d punch myself in the face quite intensely. I think it actually messed
up one of my teeth’s position. I don’t know. I’ll have to talk to a dentist about that I guess. Eventually I got to the point where that wasn’t satisfying (because let’s be real, nobody
wants a bruised mug when they’re at the age when they start to find girls attractive), and I started just unleashing all my aggression on my legs. It’s not really a big deal
for me in an emotional way like it was, but it’s just a part of the story. Eventually I got so completely depressed that I fantasized about dying almost every day. My home life
responsibilities, the piling amounts of work that just never seemed to get done, my mom began to be a lethargic parent, I couldn’t even talk to her. Incidentally, I think that’s
what set me off the most. My mom’s lifestyle caught up with her and she stopped partying but then worked ALL day. Not a big deal, some parents make it work. But what
sucked about it was then when she got home, she just wanted to watch TV in peace. And I didn’t have any other parent, my siblings despised me because of all that I had to
make them do, and because of all the things that I had to do after school I had no friends. And this is no exaggeration, I literally had no friends. It was my emotional 9/11 at that
point. I got so frustrated trying to tell my mom about what I was feeling, I was weeping standing trying to talk to her and she wouldn’t even look at me. She yelled at me and told
me to shut up. I felt so betrayed and alone I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a knife put it to my throat and told her I was going to kill myself. She walked over to me, started shoving
me and kept saying “Do it, *****.” I got so angry. I knew I couldn’t do it at that time. I think I was more worried about getting in trouble than anything else.
I threw the knife on the floor. It missed us both completely and it broke on the floor. She immediately freaked out that the knife was broken and chased me and beat my ass. I mean,
I probably would have handled it differently, but who’s asking?
My teenage years just got worse. I got to the point where I started praying to the god I don’t believe in to kill me. All day, every day. I had a prayer in my heart that he would take my
life. Just give me an opening. A gun to kill myself, even just the strength to kill myself in any way. I prayed for accidents, for homicidal shooters to come to my school and shoot only
me, etc. Morbid fantasies of a 13 year old. Further becoming an outcast in school due to undeveloped social skills (don’t worry I got much better. 😉 I felt detached and untethered
to my peers. I started seeing the school counselor in secret after I left a note in the suggestions box. We talked from time to time about what was bothering me. But nothing really
ever came of it. She was limited in how much she could ask, and I was limited in how much I could talk about as I knew the consequences would be bad for my family. So it was
just general feelings and how the day was going. This helped tremendously. But eventually, as it so often goes, I had a victim complex as a kid. And victims attract bullies. I had
a few kids that would find every little thing to poke fun at when I was young and at perhaps my most vulnerable point at the time. I wasn’t a bad looking kid, I’d even actually argue
quite handsome- but my appearance was under the most refined microscope. My eyebrows suddenly became ‘weird looking’ to me. My nose was crooked (I vow on George Washington’s
grave it’s not.) My ears were too big. Suddenly everything about me became repulsive. So on top of my emotional and mental repugnance of myself, I found a way to finally hate the
last thing about myself that I felt was any good. I started writing really lame poetry about how much life sucked. I wish I still had some of it. It was really bad. But it expressed
my feelings at the time that I deserved death. I had alienated everyone I could have had connections with, and had turned against myself. It felt like being trapped in a boxing ring
in a straight jacket with your evil doppelganger.
To be honest, I think that the mentality of a low threshold for pain is what saved me. There were so many times where I thought, ‘Jump in front of this car. Fuck that person.’ or
‘Just slit your own throat. It won’t hurt that bad. And you’ll be dead really fast.’ But my brain kept me going by giving me the best inspiration that a brain can: “Fuck that. That shit
will hurt. Are you out of your mind?”
So I stayed the course. I made it to high school finally. I changed schools to go to a charter school for artists. Not my best decision ever.
It was good to make friends. I finally attained popularity. People thought I was funny, charming and sweet. It felt nice. I questioned why I ever felt poorly in the first place. I fell
in love with a beautiful girl who was very kind herself. She had had a pretty damaged life as well. And I found that very attractive that she was able to overcome that. We went
on a few dates but she still had more challenges to go through in life before we would ever get romantic.
Eventually life catches up. My brain was stuck on this treadmill of failure. My school habits didn’t improve despite the more liberal schedule that I now had. I thought learning
the information was enough. I was wrong. In this school it was in high demand to perform because that’s where the school got its funding as a charter program. So whereas
the public school would have been fine with me failing every course, this school was not. And it became public knowledge as to who was studious, and who was not. So now my
poor habit became a public spectacle. I started noticing how my poor ‘parenting’ skills had affected my siblings. My youngest brother had also become violent. My other brother
now suffered from low self-esteem and depression. My sisters all felt unattractive and worthless. And I know it wasn’t because of my mom, because she wasn’t there. It was me.
Finally I started fully soaking in my guilt and letting it consume my very soul. I didn’t see it how I should have, as a brother in a poor situation, but as a father who had let his
children down. I didn’t do much to correct it either. At 14, I wasn’t in much of a position to anyways.
This pattern continued until eventually I left that highschool and dropped out for a while. My family was struggling financially which was one factor, but a girl falsely accused me
of making a sexual solicitation of her sister (whom I had never met. 😐 ). So I left, and worked for a year at a movie theater I had always wanted to work at. I started dating around
but couldn’t ever take girls to my house. My mom made it explicitly clear that there was to be no dating. Still to this day, I’m clueless as to why. The best I could ever get from that
rule was “Because I said so.” So, if you’ve got puzzle solving skills, please share with me your input on this one.
My boss eventually started to loathe my very being. Still clueless on that one too. But she would constantly berate my performance in front of the other crew and customers. I think
that it was just again, that I had a ‘victim’ mentality and she was a bully. She was perfectly fine to the females but to the males she was a little more cruel but me in particular she
hated. Oh well, she got fired after I quit anyhow. So, silver linings I guess.
I went back and finished highschool. Pointless exercise in my view. From there I decided that I would go on a two year mission for my church and they sent me to South Africa. I was
19 at this point and was still a little screwy in the head so to speak. I had a lot of personal growing experiences and talked to thousands of people, and got to see a side of life I hadn’t
seen before. But it came at a cost. I was in the Johannesburg area which was the violent crime capital of the world at that point. I saw a lot of violence there. But our instruction was
to not intervene for our own safety. I felt so guilty about not helping so many people. People who were raped, murdered, robbed, or beaten in public. There wasn’t much I could have
done, but I would have killed to do anything to help. I personally was only robbed about 6 or seven times. It’s been about two years since then, so I don’t remember all of them. But
I remember getting so depressed, even though there were a lot of people I was helping, building homes, cleaning, doing service opportunities, visiting hospitals, I felt like it wasn’t
even a drop in the bucket against all the violence. I remember thinking that I could just try to stop one crime. And if I die, I die. I didn’t care. But we had a companion or a fellow
missionary with us at all times. So, I thought better of it and decided not to make that move.
I eventually got home, and within the week that I had returned to the United States, my dog of six years passed away. It sucked but I powered through it. I moved in with my
friends and we shared a three bedroom apartment. I was working a job where my boss thought I was genuinely retarded despite the fact that I questioned if she had had atypical
autism. I- I don’t even know what more to say about that. But around summer of last year, my sister was killed in an automotive accident where her boyfriend drove drunk over
a cliff and killed her. He was totally fine. Yes, totally fine. I had met him before and he offered me drugs when I dropped her off. As fatherly as I could have been, I let her make her
own decisions but I told her that I didn’t approve. She obviously didn’t care what I thought, and I don’t blame her. I was a pretty shitty brother most of her life. Like grade D Douchebag.
When she passed, I was so consumed with guilt, rage, and grief. I felt like it should have been me. I was the one praying for death. I had wanted it so long and she had so much more
life in her than I did. I felt it was a cruel joke. My work didn’t really care. They gave me 2 and 1/2 days off of work to grieve. They basically said, “Sorry dude. That sucks. But we have
to move on and keep working or life falls apart.” Yeah, that’s true. I dont’ disagree. But two and a half days? Come the fuck on. That’s garbage. Especially considering that my mom
was so devastated that I basically had to take care of the funeral and the emotional strong front by myself. Which was just additional stress to the living situation with my roommates.
My roomates kept making it all about them and their plans and how they felt. Again, I was totally swamped with loneliness. Thanks guys.
My sister didn’t deserve to die. And her boyfriend should have gone to jail. But my mom in her hallmark movie mentality thought it would be better if he didn’t go to jail. Despite the
fact that this was his third time doing this exact thing, only this time, he killed somebody.
It was ironic, because my whole life, I was under more scrutiny by her for less, than this guy who had now essentially murdered her daughter. My brain gets into a twister even thinking
I started dating that girl from Highschool that I told you about after the funeral. It was great at first. We had everything in common and she seemed pretty affectionate.
Eventually I found out that she’s crazy and has some weird emotional hangups. We stopped seeing eachother, and I started living in a hotel. I hooked up with this girl I had known
back when I was a teenager. We went to the bar, made out, and had a good night. I didn’t pursue it further, but it’s mostly because I’ve got this crazy thing called depression going on.
It was about this time that I started noticing I have a pretty severe form of PTSD. I didn’t like being out in public as it gave me pretty hardcore anxiety.
Living in the hotel, I started planning how to commit suicide. I had mapped it out. I was going to go to the shooting range, rent a gun for the day and when I was done (because I wanted
to get my money’s worth) I’d turn it on myself. Flawless plan, poor execution on my part. I made a few goodbye videos. And by a few, I mean, one addressed individually to each member
of my family , one to each member of my ex girlfriend’s family, and one (actually the first one I made) to a girl who had been my best friend for a few years.
I started dating the girl that I had made the goodbye video for and it totally changed my life. I started feeling self esteem again, and started working a lot harder to overcome my PTSD.
It was great. Eventually she left me, and I don’t blame her. I brought a lot of baggage to the relationship and nobody needs to deal with that. Also, I hope nobody is stupid enough
to say, “What a *****.” I’ve heard that a lot since we broke up and it’s just not true. She’s probably the nicest girl I’ve ever dated. And she tried to help me probably more than anyone
in my life ever has. Really, that responsibility falls to me to make it work and I didn’t. I bought an engagement ring, and I was working towards getting a home loan so that we could
get a starter house and get married. I’m glad she had the courage to end it when she did though. It’s helped me a lot to have the extra spare time I need to transform as a person.
However, the loneliness, has made it very hard for me to even consider living. I spend probably most of my day when I’m not working, or staying busy (I’ve been staying busy a lot more
lately as I don’t need to spend a lot of time talking to her) in a very emotional place. I’ve caught myself crying myself to sleep most nights, haunted by all my past mistakes. I’ve tried
distracting myself but it only makes my insomnia worse. I realize that it’s not going to help anyone if I kill myself. But I’ve noticed that this time around, that she was the only thing
that stopped me last time. And I let myself make that mistake. I should have stopped myself just because I wanted to live. But I didn’t. And I guess now that she’s gone, it’s like my
safety net is gone. I would never kill myself over a breakup. That’s stupid. It’s more like, I’ve always wanted to kill myself and finally, I have everything I need to make it happen.
But I don’t really know what I want anymore. I really don’t want to live. That much is obvious. But I don’t know if I want her to feel like she could have done more.
I really don’t care too much about how anyone else would take it. I have a pretty well worded suicide note that I feel like makes it impossible for anyone to feel bad about my
decision. But I know that no matter how well worded my note is, and no matter how much sense it makes, she will blame herself. That’s just her personality.
She’s blocked me on all social media and I even think she blocked my number (maybe out of guilt? We broke up on good terms so that’s the only thing that makes sense to me)
so there’s a good chance she may not even know about it until later. But I don’t want to risk it and have her feel that guilt. I was thinking about waiting a month or two more and
when she’s feeling a little more adjusted, hitting that gun range up.
I figure she’ll probably still feel a little guilt, but unlike if I were to do it now, she’ll be able to get over it eventually.
And before anyone starts spouting off absolutes like, “No matter when you do it, they’ll never get over it.” I want to let you know, affirmatively, that you are 100% wrong.
People move on. You can still feel a little bad about it later. But not guilty. Not shameful. The timing is everything. And I also think it’s funny when people use absolutes
as if they’ve actually acquired the data necessary to make such claims. I know you haven’t. So speaking as if you have only turns me off to everything else that you can say.
By the way, I’m a suicidal asshole, so that’s a pretty hard combo to reason with.
This isn’t me sharing a method of suicide or a plan to commit suicide. I’m still undecided and I’m not looking for input to help me commit suicide. Like I said, it’s a time capsule. I’d
like to be able to come back and read my story again. If people want to share their thoughts, it’s a public forum so they’re more than welcome to.
Everyone on this site I’m pretty sure can all agree that their emotions and personal experience cannot be an exact match to someone else’s. There are many similarities for instance with certain tragedies. Most other rape victims I’ve met have gone through somewhat similar raw emotions as I have. But each of us has our own refined version of it I think. At least that’s my opinion and lord knows I don’t have a degree in psychology, so take what you will from this.
In this post I’m going to describe the three major versions of … I guess you’d call “being” or depression or “state of existing” I’ve lived through. The fourth and current emotional state I’m in is new. It’s an odd conglomerate of the past three evolutions. And I guess I’m just interested in your guys’ versions. If you’ve gone through a very similar emotional state. Or maybe there’s an “eeveelution” I’ve never experienced personally. I’d honestly love to read what you guys are going through.
Eeveelution Number One: The Pit
I experienced this one when I was in grade school. Probably elementary through middle school. It was this sense that I was alone sitting in a narrow deep deep deep hole. There was no hope in escaping. There was light that you could see waaaay up there if you squint but that light was for normal people. I wasn’t normal. There was something wrong with me that I believed couldn’t be fixed.
For the most part you are left emotionally in a pitch dark cold place where no one can reach you. Helpless doesn’t begin to cover the emotions one goes through on a daily basis when you’re in the pit. Simply because you believe you’re doomed to exist your entire life down there. Alone.
Eeveelution Number Two: Cut
That’s the only word that feels right in naming the sensation. I think after a while of being in the constant mental state of “the pit” I kind of … cracked? This one came about in High School. I was suddenly overwhelmed with this extreme want for blood and pain. I would have visions of taking that gardening tool of my mother’s and just going ape shit on my arms until they were nothing but stumps left. Like, the vision was always there whenever I closed my eyes or would consume my thoughts when I was trying to pay attention in school. Always so vivid, so graphic. I would scratch at myself or use an unwrapped paperclip to saw in the same place in my left arm.
Like, the single cut thing with a sharp blade didn’t do it for me. I needed sawing. I needed constant pain. My favorite tool for this (to this day sadly) is a steak knife. A knife with those ridges. And on my left arm is my designated place to do this. It feels the best there, it relieves the best there, and I’ve found that after these cuts heal, as long as I do a few more messier cuts around them, I can pass the scar off as a burn in public conversation. “Oh, yeah, caught myself on the oven one day.” This has worked extremely well for me over the years. You know, considering what we’re talking about here. I’m not proud of it, I’m just being real and honest.
Eeveelution Number Three: The Welcoming Kind Embrace
Bear with me here. Around my Senior year in High School this constant state of gorey hell finally subsided. And I can only best describe it as meeting Death. And Death was kind. God, my eyes are watering even now thinking back to that time in my life. I felt like there was an extremely kind and understanding and judgment free female entity that would just visit me at times …. And, like …. I’m trying to find the words to describe it. It was a sense of this being opening her arms to me with the kindest fucking smile and softest fucking eyes going, “Sweet heart, dearest dearest soul, you’re tired. I see how tired you are. I see how exhaustion has affected you. I see you. Know that I see you. And I’m here to tell you, you don’t have to keep running on that hamster wheel anymore. It’s okay to stop. It’s okay. Just come here and finally allow yourself to rest. I promise within my arms you will find rest.”
And the strangest sense of peace just flooded me, finally, after years of seeing blood and having this unquenchable drive to cause myself pain. It was the biggest strongest turn in my life. I went literally from one extreme to the other. If others hurt me, if others spoke ill of me, I could feel Death standing there patiently. No pressure to do it but, I don’t know, this peace of I could kill myself and be okay. Nothing mattered because all of that was frivilous. Suicide was something that was in my hands. So much wasn’t but that was. And there was peace in that.
So honestly I lived through life in that state of being for a while. I could kill myself but why not hold off for at least another day, I want to play this video game and enjoy myself. Or I want to eat ice cream first. Or I want to see Lindsey Stirling live first. My life’s end is in my hands and I can choose to keep postponing that end for what selfishness and little joys I have fucking earned. Like Pokemon Sun and Moon? Yeah, I’m holding off until I play that.
And I think I’ll stop here for today. The fourth state of being that has caused me to join this site I’ll express in another post. I think we can all agree I got wordy. But, yeah. What emotional states are you living through now? Or have lived through? Has yours evolved over the years? Or has yours been a constant?
So I am a senior male in high school. I’m 17 going on 18 at the end of June. There’s this one kid Zack who is a freshman at my school and I fucking hate him. I haven’t really talked to him but knowing what he does makes me sick. He dates a girl and makes out with her and everything, he is all sweet and charming and everything (little does anybody know he’s really a ***** and extremely aggressive and violent with guys) but the catch about the girls he dates is that they all self-harm (usually cutting). Sounds like a sweet boy right? WRONG!!! He dates them, then flirts with her friends, cheats on his first girlfriend and finally breaks up and moves on to the next. It’s an ongoing pattern, but the worst part is is his victims. They are all depressed and feel they can’t be loved then Zack comes along and rescues them only to drop them hard. He’s cheating on his girlfriend now. I really want to warn all of the girls he is talking to because they’re already suicidal and depressed, then when he is done with them it hurts them even more knowing they were never loved by him and he was cheating on them…I found out about all of this from a really close (girl) friend who dated him and during that period completely shut me out then came back crying when she found out he was cheating on her. It seems like he has run out of girls to fuck up…I’m just afraid about next year with all the incoming freshman…I fucking hate him!! LIKE WHAT THE FUCK YOU FUCKING *****?????? I feel like it’s because they are easier to prey on because they’re weak and susceptible to anything like that…but no you are not weak. You are all strong!!! please everyone stay safe I love you (i honestly do, I cut myself too i understand) you’re so fucking beautiful…please do your best <3
Ah, i never thought i would post on a site like this one. Still, i would like some advice.. I’m sorry if this is too long, i don’t really know what i’m going to say so thank you to all of you who actually read through all this nonsense..
I don’t know what’s happening to me, i never would have imagined i would slip this far away. At first i thought i was just being a little over dramatic. That’s normal for teenagers y’know? But these thoughts, these “what ifs”, these plans, I can see how much they are taking over and i don’t know what to do..
Well first, i guess i should give some input on who i am. The name i picked for myself on here is Scarlet Yukimura and I am a Senior in High School. I am that friend that everyone turns to when things just fall apart. I’ve seen all my precious friends at their worst but we’ve always pulled through together. It’s really heartwarming to see how much they have changed, their new ideas, goals, dreams, smiles.. It’s what i live for. But, I am going to be leaving my beloved school soon and going on to the real world.
This, is the source of everything..
I moved to this new place, this new school after my parents got in a physical fight and got a divorce. This was in the summer of 8th grade. After that, our “family” was cast away as the “Problem” family so besides a few belongings, i only had my mother with me. I was always in complete despair, i felt so useless after seeing my mom like that, bloody and bruised up and all i could do was scream. How pathetic is that? Seeing an empty apartment instead of my old bright and cheerful house. There were many other things too but i’ll just save time by leaving them out. But i overcame all these feelings. I know this is going to sound really stupid but what gave me my new drive in life was an anime.
Call me stupid or make fun of me or whatever else. I know how stupid it looks, i wrote it down after all.
Still, the anime gave me a new view on life. All these characters going through the same hell i was and they overcame everything to love life again. It was what i needed more than ever. After that, i became more open in school. I started dressing in brighter colors instead of just all black. I even got a piano and started taking lessons just like one of the characters. I made friends, i made memories, i was able to smile everyday. Just like the main character, i wanted to become a Doctor so i can help people of all kinds everyday but that will never happen..
I’m not even graduating.
I’m failing my English class. This is because i have this condition, if it’s even called that, known as “Sleep Paralysis”. For those of you that don’t know, it happens right as i’m going to sleep. What happens is my body goes to sleep but my mind doesn’t. During this time, i can’t move, i can’t breathe, and the line between reality and dreams is blurred. Please remember, nightmares are dreams too. This really uncomfortable event is what usually keeps me up and makes me late for my English class. Usually missing it all together and it’s the reason i’m writing this at 1:19 AM. I’ve tried asking my teacher for help but she doesn’t like me too much, refusing to help me because i ditch her class a lot. I’ve never been able to properly tell my situation because of this relationship with her.
However, Graduating is the least of my concerns.
This time for seniors is when we’re supposed to figure out what we want to do in life and how to do it. It seems that i have everything figured out but i have been getting feedback from friends that graduated High School last year.. College is hell.. All of them dropped out, even my cousin and they all say it was a decision they wish they could take back. They say the life of an adult is killing them…
I don’t want to grow up..
I don’t want grow up and hate life like every adult i have ever seen… I don’t want to start life off with a bunch of debt.. I don’t want to have to quit watching anime and quit dressing so silly because that’s not what adults do… I don’t want to take down all my posters, remove all the stickers, and get rid of all my stuffed animals because that’s not what adults should care about… I don’t want to worry every waking second about bills like adults do… I don’t want to fight with my friends like adults do… I don’t want to hate someone i used to love… I don’t want to make my children suffer with a divorce… I don’t want to be a part of that world…
That’s when all these “what ifs” started
It started with one. When i was walking down the hallway of the second story building at school. What if i just jumped and ended everything before i fall into the depression of being an adult. Quit while i’m ahead y’know? I just dismissed it but they’re popping up more and more and more. It’s consuming my every waking minute… What if i just grab those scissors… what if i just down those pills… what if i just jump… all the songs i play on my piano are full of despair, my songs on my playlist are all just like they were freshman year… I wouldn’t have even noticed this if my mother didn’t ask me why i was playing such sad songs recently.. These feelins are taking over me i can’t run away from them..
i’m crying now..
I can’t run to my friends for help, how could i? The friend that is always happy, the friend that helped them when they needed it the most is now falling apart.. Their impression of happiness would fall apart wouldn’t it? i don’t want to ruin their lives. My mom and i are moving again when school ends because of this boy friend shes had for a while. I’ll keep their faith in happiness until the very end. I couldn’t become a Doctor because of how stupid i am but at least i know i have helped a small amount of people..
So i will be back where i ended up freshman year, in a place unknown to me, full of sadness, and honestly, i’m exhausted… The reason i even found this website was researching one of my “What ifs”. I’m slowly succumbing to them and i’m too tired to try and fight back… What would i even be fighting for, the future isn’t something i want to be a part of.
This is my story. Sorry it’s so stupid long.
I don’t know why I’m writing this. Maybe so that I can just get it out of my system now and have something for other people to read after I’m dead. Maybe for some other reason. I don’t know.
My history with suicide is filled with twists and turns. Ever since I was ten years old, I could tell that I wasn’t normal and that no matter what I tried, I would never be able to fit in with other people due to my inconsistent and abnormal disposition. This idea stemmed from the fact that throughout my life as a child, I never really had any friends. There was one boy that I frequently hung out with and whom other people would call my friend, but the truth was that I didn’t really like him much and neither did he like me. We were really only friends because the both of us were loners. And actually, even as his friend, he frequently defaulted to hanging out with other people first and I was really just his fallback in case his other friends got annoyed with him and kicked him out of their group for the day. Always being alone and never being compelling enough as a character to warrant friends or otherwise was a great source of suffering for me throughout elementary and middle school, but what compounded this suffering even more during those days was my inability to effectively articulate the things that I was experiencing.
Flash forward to high school and while there were slight changes in the way I received by my peers, the theme of un-affiliation persisted. However, it was during high school that I realized that while I failed at academics and being socially successful, I was good at tasks related to various forms of combat and strategy. My aptitude for fighting in tandem with my more frequent thoughts of suicide, caused me to consider joining the most dangerous branches of the military and/or police agencies in the country. At the tail end of my senior year, I had intended to enlist with the United States Marine Corp or the LAPD (with aspirations to eventually become a part of the SWAT unit there). I should note that neither of these decisions were motivated by patriotism or a sense of justice; I just wanted to fight an enemy, serve my squad (or department) and then later die an unheroic and unmemorable death afterwards.
But then a miracle happened and I ended up meeting someone who was interested in me and actually cared to invest her time into me (three years later I would find out that all of this was motivated by fear and sex, rather than interest). Having a girlfriend–especially one like her–taught me many things and changed my life. I thought less about fighting, more about the arts (writing in particular) and I turned away from a career in the military or the police and decided upon pursuing a degree in Nutritional Science. I did just that. I went to Community College, performed much better there than I did in High School, and got my Associates Degree.
Right when this happened, said girlfriend left me for another man. I was devastated, but didn’t really revert back to my old ways just yet. Nearly right after she left me, another miracle happened and I ended up becoming intimate with another girl–by accident actually–who changed my life further. But less than year later, we stopped talking and because I said some very rash things to her, we will never be able to speak again.
That was a year ago. It’s been six years since I graduated from high school and here I am again, with thoughts of the military and suicide encircling my thoughts. But unlike my high school self, my mind has become much more refined and in turn, I’m more firmly grounded in reality. I now know for instance, that when I die, everything–all that I hold dear and all the things I’ve ever thought about doing–will vanish. Even the mere idea of me will cease to be after my immediate family members die off and when that happens, the only evidence that I’ll have ever existed will be the scant amounts of administrative info from the schools I’ve attended and well, this, I guess. I will truly be dead then.
You may be tempted into thinking that I don’t deserve such a thing, but I would have to argue otherwise (and if you knew me, you would too). Not everyone deserves to have a happy ending to their life, especially people like me, who will never be culturally acceptable and are burdensome on my family and my peers.
The silver lining to all of this, I suppose, is that the military will find me useful. And as soon as I graduate with my bachelors and do the JET program for two years, I plan on joining whatever is the most dangerous branch of military (Marines?). After I’ve accumulated a good enough resume, I’d like to move onto more elite sectors, such as the Special Forces or the Navy Seals. Overall, I don’t expect to live beyond three years, especially since I plan on immediately killing myself in the event that I become too injured to fight. Also, before I go, I plan on raising enough money to cover funeral expenses and pay back whatever debts I owe. I’m going to arrange a will and ask that no memorial service be provided for me; I would hate to burden my family any more than I already have.
- I’ve been asking my parents to take me to a psychologist for the past four years. Today they told me I have an appointment next week, I was happy at first, then they told me the day of my appointment and I got scared.
- I have too many things on my plate…
- I used to enjoy going to my Forensics practices, it was a time where I got to swear, scream, cry and just be who I am inside without anyone knowing. Now, I have to be patient, not be so dramatic. For FUCKS sake, how am I not supposed to be dramatic? Seriously, my category is Drama! I am the only student in the team that has been in drama for 5 years, and it’s always been my way, the fun way, the way I get to be me, but no… now they want to change that.
- The Principal in our high school is the gatekeeper of hell, she takes the little bits of happiness I have left and she replaces it with misery and bitterness. She acts all high class and shit, but she is lower than low, she has no class. She’s a racist and a sexist.
- I used to be an honor student, I’d say I don’t know what happened, but I do… High School happened. This year was supposed to be the year I shined and made my name known, but seems like life doesn’t want me to succeed in anything.
- My grades have all drastically dropped, I have D’s in 5 of my classes and I take 8. I don’t seem to understand chemistry, and pre-calculus is not meant for me. I can’t get the material to stay in my brain. It’s like I have a knowledge repellent of some sorts. I can learn a song in less than minutes but when it comes to the important things, like school stuff, I just can’t.
- Let’s talk about relations…
- I have a relationship repellant.
- My best friend (girl) told me she had a crush on me, and I told her how I felt… I forgot to tell her the most important detail, and that was, that I couldn’t live without her. She stole my heart and she filled it with joy. It’s been a few months since that happened and now she’s with one of my closest guy friends and they seem happy, so I’m happy.
- My other best friend (guy) he is a player. He doesn’t accept it, but he is. He toyed with my feelings, but that didn’t affect me. What does affect me, constantly, is the fact he acts as if he were my boyfriend and he cockblocks every single person that tries to get to know me better. He is this gorgeous hunk who has this amazing everything. I can’t explain how perfect he is. We joke every once in a while about ending up together, funny thing is, I hoped it wasn’t a joke. He doesn’t know this, but when I talk about him with my sister we call him numbnuts.
- My sister’s boyfriend’s brother, we’ve known each other for 6 years now, I have seen his transformation… it was a blessing. He is confused about his sexuality, just like both of my best friends. He actually got to know numbnuts, they hung out and texted each other and I hated that. It was horrible. My middle school crush was talking to my high school crush, GREAT! The funny thing about that, they always had to have me in their conversations and they went out I had to be with them, and no I couldn’t bring anyone else with me, I had to be the third wheel. I HATE BEING THE THIRDWHEEL!!!! It’s the worst feeling ever and when it’s with a past crush and a now crush, it’s way worse.
- I gotta tell you (anyone who reads this), I have liked many people. I just tend to like people for their personalities and for their knowledge.
- People call me cradle robber for having a friendship with two 9th graders.They’re sweet, funny, charming and annoying, I hang out with them because I get bored and lonely and they keep me company in a non-sexual way. We talk and laugh most of the time we’re together. But people don’t see it that way. They think it’s a weird relationship I have with them. Just because a person speaks to someone doesn’t mean they are together.
- The last two hook-ups I’ve had have been fun, but I noticed with them, that I’m the girl who gets played with before the person gets serious with someone else.
- I believe that forced relationships should take a life long break, cause if the feeling isn’t there, then why stay with the person?
- I wish my love life could be like one of those you see in a John Hughes movies.
- I wish I could disappear into thin air and not be recognized as a compound.
- Everyone in school talks shit about me and then they act like were friends.That KIND OF PEOPLE SICKEN ME.
- WHY DO YOU WASTE YOUR BREATH TALKING SHIT ABOUT PEOPLE? DO YOU FEEL BETTER ABOUT YOURSELF? DOES SOMEONE GIVE YOU A MEDAL FOR BELITTLING SOMEONE AND MAKING THEM FEEL LIKE THEY COULD DIE AND NO ONE WOULD NOTICE?
- My eyes feel heavy, my head feels empty, my body feels used, my voice is unheard, my actions are unseen…nothing I do, nothing I say, nothing that ever comes from me is acknowledged. I am nothing, and I live in a world of nothingness.
- School is the problem in my life.
- I feel drained.
- I’ve thought of moving in with my aunt so I can escape the nothingness from this place, but then I realize…. what would I do without the people that have grown close to me, the people that seem to care when something minor happens to me, what would I do in a new place?
I want to keep writing, but I can’t so here I will leave this.
As I was walking through the old hallway of my high school, my former teacher stopped me. She told me that I looked different, that something just didn’t resemble the same girl she once had in her classroom.
I looked at her confused and asked what she meant. She told me that she remembers the way I acted during freshman-junior years and that’s how I seemed to be now.
She explained to me that during my senior year she could see that I was in a happy place and I was content with the life I had adapted to. She asked me if I had returned to my dark place.
I pulled my sleeves up and explained to her that I had never left that dark place. I told her I began to get used to hiding all my pain because no one really cares to see it.
As she tried to deny that comment, I stopped her. I told her that if someone really cared that would’ve stopped me in these hallways six years ago. Not six years into the pain.
But it’s not the usual, it returned… It returned much worse than before… MUCH, much worse…
I can feel whatever’s left of my sanity fading away as I am drawn back into the cycle of repetitive days, with the time barely moving on during the parts of the day I hate, and flying by during the few moments I enjoy in the day.
Then, going back to bed, thinking with dread that tomorrow will be another day I will have to wake up and face the world. Another day I will be reminded with every occasion of the failure that I am. Eventually falling into an uneasy and exhausting sleep full of stress-caused twitching and rolling around for 4-5 hours, then being woken up by my father. Trying to snooze a little more, I am always reminded that I ”spend too much time awake at night”.
Going out on the balcony for the first cigarette of the day. No coffee, nah. I look forward to sleeping in my first couple of classes, high school rules be damned.
Arriving at High School. My last year in this hellhole, yet 7 more months seem like an eternity away. The worst is when I think that after I finish this, I will have to go to college in order to please my family, even though it’s not what I want. Fuck society, I want to go back to my home country and back to my old city, and just bury myself in shit along with my fellow low-life gang-member friends. Not the kind of friends you’d choose if you had the option, but they’re the only ones who ever did something for me without any intention to profit later.
Anyway, arriving at High School, entering the building. Getting some half-assed insults hurled at me by some faggots, barely controlling my urges to bash their brains in.
Class starts… 8 hours of sitting in a chair and wishing the fucking clock would move faster already, getting constant observations about how I don’t pay attention and getting about 1 hour of detention each day for ”not studying”. I rarely ever attend that, and the few times I do, I’m just going there to fuck with the supervisors and get kicked out after 10-15 minutes.
Friday afternoon! Yay, yoohoo and all that crap! Everyone goes drinking, shooting up and generally having a good time, but I gotta go ”sleep early” because I’m working tomorrow… I down a few shots of Vodka at some cheap ass pub, my home close to home, and go sleep when I’m drunk enough to kill my insomnia. Even the weird junkie guy who talks to his right hand during lunch break must have a better time than me tonight…
The few times I go out with friends, we go drinking, maybe visit some whorehouse (which is legal here in Germany) and I end up going home and starting to feel miserable again.
Will write a suicide note tomorrow during class, and leave it somewhere visible in my room, probably on my desk. Then, I will probably end it, depends on whether I’ll finally have the fuckin’ balls to go through with it or not.
Only other ”option” would be to go back and follow my own path, but that’s not possible. I am chained to the people related to me who want me to do what they want me to do. So, suicide is the only option available for me. Or I could always just keep moving on until I finally have a break down in front of everyone and get sent to a white padded room in a straitjacket.
Anyway, rant over…
Damn I want some dope right now, could really use it…
I remember feeling from a very early age like I didn’t belong anywhere. I always felt like the black sheep in my family and I was always pretty shy so making friends wasn’t really a strong suit.
I started getting depressed when I was about 12 years old. I had a teacher who I usually went to when I was having a bad day because I knew no one else would listen. I was having trouble fitting in when I was in middle school. I tried to fit in with all different groups of people but I never really clicked anywhere. In 8th grade I started making friends with a bunch of people who were really nice and excepting of me and my depression started subsiding a little.
Then hit high school. In high school freshman year I was diagnosed with PCOS (Polycistic Ovarian Syndrome). I would tell you what that means but it would take forever to explain. I had always struggled with my weight but I lost about 30 pounds my freshman year. Sophomore year hit and my depression and anxiety hit me the hardest it ever had. Needless to say I gained all that weight back and then some. I remember waking up one night with the worst chest pains I had ever felt in my life. It felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest. I realized I was having a panic attack so I got up, got some water, put my head between my legs and took deep breaths. It eventually stopped and I went to bed. My mom slepped through the whole thing. My mom also doesnt know I even struggle with anxiety and depression. We’re not really that close so theres not much I feel like I can tell her. Those panic attacks happened to me off and on for the next year.
One day all of a sudden I woke up but I just couldn’t get out of bed. When I finally got up I did nothing but cry all day long without reason. I remember thinking to myself “why am I so upset?” I can’t even describe to you how much pain I felt in that moment. I was sad, lonely, angry, depressed, confused and hopeless. I remember going to the kitchen and grabbing the sharpest knife I could find. I put it next to my arm and wondered what cutting into my skin would feel like. I knew my mom would see it if I cut my arm so I tried my leg. It stung at first but I didn’t mind, I didnt care. I stopped, looked at the cut and threw the knife down. A few weeks later it hit me hard again but this time I was laying in the floor of my room staring at the ceiling. A thought occurred “what would everyone’s life be like if I died?” So I went through everyone I knew and tried to think of how they would feel. I realized people would be sad but they’d get over it, they’d all move on and eventually just forget about me. There were at some points, days where I wanted to just die. In my head I had already given up so why not just go ahead and die?!
Now 4 years later I still struggle with anxiety and depression. I never got diagnosed with either one but that’s because I just couldn’t get the courage to tell my mom. My family always tries to look so perfect for everyone all the time. If my mom had a suicidal depressed daughter, how would that make her look? Like I said, I’m not close with my mom. But now I’m struggling with another battle. I have come to the realization that I am bisexual. It took me a while to realize this but I’m confused and I’m trying to figure out who I am and how to overcome everything I’ve been through. I have struggled and I still struggle and I wish everyone out there with the same struggle nothing but love and support from everyone around you because that’s all I wish for myself too. Coping skill step 1: surround yourself with positive accepting people, get rid of ones who don’t. Thank you for reading my story.
Sorry I’m so wordy, and you probably don’t care. I guess I’m just whiny.
My timeline of friends and now I have no one..
I’ve never been good at anything in my entire life. From the start I just caused my parents misery and made them split up before I could even form memories. At Primary School I was always behind the other kids, I never perfected my handwriting and to this day it’s still disgusting, I never had any friends in my class and was always just the retard that nobody liked. This continued into High School where I managed to get some help and actually caught up with everyone else eventually, even excelling in some subjects but still being considered a weird ugly loner by everyone else in my year. My only escape from the world ended up being video games and TV when I got home, much to the dislike of my family who would constantly berate me about not being like all the other kids my age and playing outside with friends.
Around the age of 14 I started to lose touch with reality, falling deeply into depression, every day was a cycle wanting to kill myself, this continued on till I was 15 and started doing my GCSEs. I ended up skipping school to not only stay away from everyone else who made me feel anxious and shitty, but to play video games. This of course effected my performance in school dramatically, but I always managed to weasel my way out of it with the school by telling them it’s just because I lived far from the school and couldn’t always make it or I was feeling too ill. My dad who I lived with at the time didn’t care if I went or not, he usually helped me with excuses just so he wouldn’t have to take me.
I managed to get my attendance down to around 20-30%, and when the GCSE exams were over the horizon most of my subjects decided I should just drop them and focus on the core subjects because I could never catch up. Long story short, I ended up failing what little GCSEs I did have besides English. But that was well over a year ago now.
When I turned 16 I was told I had to retake my GCSEs, so of course I was lumped in with all the other “special” kids who had failed their GCSEs for similar reasons at a sixth form college offering a GCSE course. I didn’t care though, I had already told myself I’d kill myself and none of it really mattered since I was 14, so it was all just a waste of time in my head and I could just relax. I ended up continuing the same cycle, whittling down my attendance and just generally not caring.
Until towards the end of the year where I actually made some friends and gained a new outlook on life.
I don’t know how to really explain it but apparently puberty made me attractive-ish, or at least not repulsive, and a small group of people whose classes I was in were kind enough to be friends with me. For the first time in a long time, life seemed positive and worth living. I wanted to work out, become even more attractive, be successful in school and live some form of life. I saw myself with a future.
Skip to now, I turned 17 a month ago and I got my results in the mail today(I was scared of going in to collect them on the 20th). Surely I could actually go through with living a normal life now, right? I would get the results I wanted, go onto A-levels like a normal kid, eventually university, maybe get a boyfriend and live a life that wasn’t just a depressing cycle of failure and self pity, right? Wrong.
I failed, again. Even when I started to try, I failed. It feels like I’ve set myself up on this path too long and I’m gonna have to kill myself whether I want to or not, because this embarrassing failure of a life just is unlivable. It’s just going to be more suffering if I continue and improvement doesn’t actually exist for people like me. I’ve never heard of someone genuinely successful, attractive and happy who had a background similar to mine, and it all just looks hopeless.
Tomorrow I get the house to myself, I think I’m just going to go about my day as per usual. Maybe watch some netflix, play some Witcher 3, talk to some people online. Then when I’m utterly relaxed and have made peace, I’m going to lay down in the bath with a boxcutter, slit my wrists and wait for it to be over. I’m done, I hope that I can finally become nothing in death. I hope for absolute nothingness so that I never have to experience being me, or being anything, ever again. I hope this world stops being horrible some day, I hope everyone finds happiness and nobody ever has to experience a shitty life like this, but I don’t want to stick around to see it because deep down I just know. I’ll never have it for myself.
Well… Hi. I just joined and I thought an introduction to myself might be a good idea so anybody commenting or replying to my posts would understand some of the circumstances and viewpoints of the person they are talking to.
I am pretty young, younger than probably most of the the people on here, but I have definitely met younger in situations similar to mine (as far as the whole depression thing goes). I am 14, my birthday is after the school year starts but before the new year so I am among the youngest of my class.
I am going into sophomore year in an IB program (students graduate with an international baccalaureate diploma). It is ranked the ninth most highly regarded public school in the United States by business insider. My first year of high school was completed with a 4.0 which is the highest you can get because our classes are not AP, and are therefore unweighted. I like to keep my options open and have always been academically successful. In middle school a I got all As and in eighth grade, my lowest class grade was a 98%. I played sports ; softball, basketball, swimming, and track. I also danced for a while too. I had a life plan, I had drive, and cared about who I was and who I was going to become.
For most of my life, that actually was the kind of person I was. It sounds pretty good and it felt pretty good. I found appreciation in so many things. Helping others felt good. Looking around filled me with joy. I loved to draw and tend to my garden, and school was enjoyable too.
In seventh grade I started to notice a decline in my mood. It seemed pretty normal. It was just a phase and would blow over soon. I didn’t really think anything of it. In the later half of eighth grade though, I noticed it more. I didn’t like school at all. I found it really boring. I decided not to study for any of my finals because I knew I could bomb them and still get As in all of my classes. Just passing by was all I cared about. I didn’t want to screw up my future but I didn’t try to go above expectations and try hard like I used to. Ninth grade was when my emotional downhill got a whole lot steeper. The summer between 8th and 9th I did club swim which was two hours of practice from 7:00-9:00 am and we also had two hours of practice in the afternoon (sometimes practices went longer if there was land practice). Sports had always been more of a recreational thing for me since most of my time and effort went toward education, but club swim just tired me out. One day one of the coaches was helping me perfect my flip turns and told me it seemed like I didn’t even care when I was not understanding one of the movements. Of course I cared about swim if I dedicated 4+ hours of my day during the summer to it. It really hurt me though. I felt more anxiety when I went there every morning. Started skipping more practices, and I decided not to swim for my high school that year. But even though the swim situation was upsetting, it still wasn’t the worst. I knew I was just being overly sensitive. Most people would have just moved on that day.
That school year, compared to my others was one of my worst. My work ethic sunk down to hardly anything. I only studied last minute, and procrastinated even more than usual. Yes, all of my semester grades ended up being As, but on some of my progress reports I had an A-. Once in math and once in biology, which are classes I typically excel at. That year I felt like a zombie. I was dead inside but somehow my legs still moved. I skipped so many school days because I was not going to get out of bed. I slept ALL the time. I cried every night, couldn’t fall asleep at my moms house because I felt so anxious around people, I did everything I could to avoid them. I slept on the couch whenever I was there so I wouldn’t wake up my stepsister (who I shared a room with) while I cried. Usually my crying was pretty much silent anyway though. I don’t know if it is a common thing to do… But you know those times when you scream but it sounds between a whisper and a wince. That is what I did a lot. I though about killing myself all the time. I wondered what was the point of living if I already feel dead. I am just going through the motions of life and it is draining. It is not bringing me joy. I am not even living for myself. I am living because 1. I can’t get my hands on a gun 2. Because my family would be heartbroken.
I know that they care about me and would be devastated if the lost their daughter but I didn’t feel like I owed it to them to live. I shouldn’t feel like I have to live for anyone else other than myself. After all, it is my life. I should be able to do what I want with it.
In a nutshell, during the day I was a careless, thoughtless, apathetic zombie. And at night I was a suicidal basket case.
I distanced myself from everybody. I stopped talking to my mom (we used to have a really close relationship). I completely ignored my step family, and for about a week I refused to speak to my stepdad.
All the symptoms of depression were present. The apathy was obvious, my mom was concerned because I thought killing babies was okay (after doing some research I decided that it might be more humane to kill a fetus that has not yet developed a nervous system). But that was all anybody ever really noticed. I knew I was depressed but not 100% positive because I hadn’t been diagnosed yet. In my health class our unit on mental health included a section on depression and I silently cried that whole class because it only confirmed what I had thought before. I was thinking about killing myself all the time. I devised a plan, but before I acted upon it, I decided that I would at least getting some help for a little bit. My parents were surprised when I finally asked for a therapist. I just told them I wanted someone I could talk to, but for about 2/3 months they ignored my request. I asked them a couple more times until finally, I had an appointment.
Just to give you a fair warning: if you are thinking about going to therapy or have just started, if you tell them your plan for killing yourself, they WILL send you so a psych hospital and are required to do so by law. I’m not saying don’t tell them, but if you do, that will be the consequence. They have written in their confidentiality forms that they are only allowed to break confidentiality if you are thought to likely hurt yourself or others. I did read this in the forms, but it slipped my mind when I told her. I thought the worst she could do was ask me not to, right? Wrong. They will find a way to force you not to, at least for a little while. To be honest, the experience with my therapist was a total waste of time. I went to the psych hospital twice and was told to go back four days after a previous hospitalization. I just don’t know who knows how to help me. I was never raped. My parents were not abusive. I have never tried drugs. I could have a great future ahead of me if I wanted it. But I don’t.
Since my parents only found out about my suicidal ideation after my first hospital visit they decided to drug me. I have to take Prozac, Buspar, Wellbutrin, and Lamectol. I feel like an old lady with all the pills I take. At first I thought the pills would help, but it has been six months and they should DEFINITELY be kicking in by now. Now, I am just confused because I don’t know what thoughts are actually ME and what are the pills. I have asked my parents if I could stop them, but they say I should at least take them for another year. I thought the medication and therapy would help me get back to my old self but it hasn’t and now I don’t even know what is me anymore. I don’t care if I end up killing myself in the process. If I am going to live or die, I want to mentally be me, not some drugged up version of my brain.
I know all the doctors say that suddenly stopping your medication will have very negative effects. I don’t exactly know what those effects are, I haven’t researched them, but doctors, parents, family seem to think that wanting to kill yourself of seeking sad or desperate is a bad thing. I disagree. I like having those feeling more than I like having none. One time in November I had an economics test. I didn’t feel very confident about my performance ability for it, and the night before I was nervous and couldn’t fall asleep. I was so HAPPY about actually feeling nervous (typically viewed as an undesirable emotion) that I started crying tears of JOY. That was the last time I remember feeling genuinely happy, without the diagnosis of depression looming around my head.
My suffering has been never ending for over twelve years. I am 18 years old and about to finish high school. I don’t know if I will reach that finish line, as I am stumbling hard. I won’t go into my whole backstory, but I will mention some of it.
I’ve suffered extreme bullying for my whole school life. When I finally got into high school, I thought it would change…I thought it would be different. How wrong I was.
The bullying started up again very quickly, but none of the teachers ever gave a shit. Recently, that bullying has turned into sexual harassment, and nothing is being done!
I feel as if I don’t belong anywhere. I’m told all the time how I don’t fit in, how I’m weird, how I don’t belong anywhere. I know that I don’t.
The only place I feel happy is playing video games or watching YouTube, and even that happiness is dwindling fast. I have many health problems that I have to take a lot of medications for, including severe depression, ADHD and Autism. My family life is not much better. My mother, who I love to bits, can treat me like shit sometimes. Whenever we fight, she always goes on and on about how she hates me, how she wishes that I was dead, how she wishes that she never had me. My mother is a good person in her own right, she just gets angry when we fight.
My father, who lives overseas with a wife and three kids, hardly ever notices me. I feel like he loves his ‘new family’ more than he ever loves me. I feel invisible whenever I visit him, and I feel unwanted there, just as I feel almost everywhere else.
I was sent to a clinic for depression and suicidal thoughts, and stayed there for a few weeks. I thought everything would be better afterwards, and they were for a while. But then I had to return to school and I felt absolutely terrified to do so. I’m having almost daily panic attacks with my exams and fears.
What makes things worse, and why I feel as if I’ve been set back with suicidal thoughts again, is my dad’s family. They didn’t care about me or my problems until they found out I was in a hospital for it. No matter what I do, I will never be perfect in their eyes. My achievements are never accounted for, and whenever I fuck up, they make sure that I know of it.
My mother fought with me today and said those same things again, but added on how I’m fat and a psycho who doesn’t belong anywhere or have any friends. If she wishes that I was dead, then why did she stop me from committing suicide before? Why does she call me fat when she knows that I have an eating disorder? I know she loves me, but I don’t always feel like it. I love her so very much cause she has done so much for me in my life.
I’ve tried rising higher and getting through it, but nothing seems to work. I’ve done therapy, counselling, gone to a clinic, medications, the list goes on…Like I said before, my only coping mechanisms are video games and YouTube.
Those thoughts are returning to me, and I may just go through with them and succeed this time. I’m tired of fighting day in and day out just to get through my day. I’ve been fighting for over twelve years…I just want a break…The finish line to the end of school has never looked so far away, and even if I do cross it, what hope is there for me in the future? I have no future, since I don’t belong anywhere in this world. I feel like I’m just a burden who doesn’t deserve to live…I just want to die and be relived of this pain…I can’t take it anymore…No-one will miss me if I go, they all hate me anyway, they would probably cheer and celebrate that the ‘weird’ girl is gone. I don’t care anymore, I just want to be away from this constant pain…
I’m a little bit new to this whole blogging my feelings thing, but i can’t keep it to myself anymore. I hate myself, i dont know how or wen i did, or i think maybe i always have. I dont think ive ever been happy. When I was really little it was me my mom my dad and my little brother. I always try and remember my childhood as being happy and i’m always that one person to point out the good in any situation, but it’s time i tell the truth. My dad was a rug addict. my dad did crack and cocaine and heroin and god knows what else. Not that i have anything against drugs, i think that we all have the right to experimentation, but not if you have a 3 year old little girl and a newborn son to be taking care of. when i was 4 my father raped me. and he beat me and my entire family. but i was daddy’s little girl, i never realized until i got older that there was something wrong. My mom left my dad while he was at work one day in September when i was 5. she took everything she could fit into her and my aunts car and she left with me and my brother. the night before we left I walked out of my room to go to the bathroom and when i walked out my dad was choking my mom with a scarf. Growing up as a little kid was hard for me, because I blamed my self for my mom leaving. I always blamed myself. Now that i think about it, thats the root of me hating myself. And then when i got older , maybe in the middle of elementary school, i started to blame my mom, I hated her and everything about her. life went on. middle school was rough for me, i’ve always had an un natural urge to be with guys, i kissed and made out with so many guys in middle school before any of my friends even had their first kiss. and on into high school. The summer before going into freshman year i lost my virginity a month after i turned 14, and i got pregnant with the baby of my first real love. Little did i know that he was cheating on me our entire relationship with my “best friend.” Late october i was almost 3 months pregnant, and i lost the baby that i planned on keeping. Then i found out that he was cheating on me, he never knew i was pregnant, and at 14 i decided that he had no right to know what i had been through. I still hate myself and all throughout high school i have. (i was supposed to graduate today) i have “been with” 11 people. Ive gotten myself into some trouble along the way. Freshmen year i cut myself for the first time, just because i read about it on the internet, i thought that maybe it could help me and i was curious as to why someone woud do it. It made me feel good while i laid there bleeding. and sophomore year i tried to kill myself 3 times. ive never told anyone this but my best friend bu i feel such a release from telling people here. No one in my family noticed anything was wrong. the hate i had for myself just kept growing bigger and bigger until i couldn’t take it anymore, i tried to hang myself in my closet. my mom found me, hanging my self didnt kill me, i just passed out, ill never forget how awful i felt. I can’t even kill myself right, and i felt so embarrassed and ashamed of myself. i later went on to drinking, i drank so much all the time, i used to mix my heavy duty sleeping pills with vodka, i just wanted everything to end, my mom never found out about that, and the last thing i tried was slitting up my wrists instead of across, thats when my mom brought me to the hospital for help. after being there for 8 hours, i was admitted to four winds, a kind of mental rehabilitation place? idk. i was there for a while and they diagnosed me with bipolar and post traumatic stress disorder (ptsd) I had already been in and out of therapy my entire life and now i had to go through all of it all over again. i was better after that for awhile until about a year ago, the dark thoughts cant get out of my head. i cant get them out no matter how much i try, and on top of already feeling worthless, i can’t graduate high school, i failed both the english classes i was in. I can’t even pass the language i speak. I’ve never been able to do the things people have expected of me, im the school slut, the worlds own personal cum bucket. I can’t carry a baby, I can’t attract nice guys, and i can’t even get a high school diploma. I feel so worthless right now and i feel like it wouldnt make a difference if i just ended everything right now. i can’t carry on anymore, and im sick of trying, he only thing keeping me here is my boyfriend of the past year and 2 months. He’s the only thing that can keep me happy anymore, dont get me wrong i love him, but sometimes a little love from someone else isn’t enough to keep a person here. my mom used to tell me that i cut for attention and i lost alot of friends when the realized what the marks were from, and if thats the society that im living in today then i dont want to live in this society at all. im so over whelmed, mom says i ave to find somewhere new to live by this october, i work a $9 an hour job and i can’t find a better one, how can i afford to live on my own> no one wants to room with me, im not going to get anywhere i dont know why i try. I just want to feel the will to live again, I’m waiting for something to pick me up again, but Everything i find just keeps pushing me down. Maybe i should just give up, but how selfish would i be to hurt everyone else around me.
I’m 16, and I’m going into my senior year of high school in a few months, and I’ve been facing depression for over a year now. I wish I could explain how I really feel, but I don’t think it would make sense. Mostly it’s the fact that I have high-achieving dreams. Like, the kind of dreams where it takes a one in a million chance to actually accomplish them. And I’ve convinced myself that I’m not going to achieve anything in life and I’ll just be bored and miserable the entire time. As if I’m convinced that without these dreams, I won’t be happy, and I don’t see the purpose of living a life you’re not happy with. I feel like a complete waste of space. There are people I know who say that they’re there for me, but I don’t believe them. I feel like they talk about me behind my back. What sucks I have no reason to think that, I just do. I feel like everyone who’s said that they’re my friend laugh at me as soon as I’m done talking to them. I have a shitty family life right now too. There’s a move coming, and I’m not allowed to see my older brother anymore because of a feud him and my parents have, and I love him. He has been one of the only people I feel like I really can talk to about anything, I now I’m not even allowed to see him. I went to therapy for a few months, and nothing seemed to change. Maybe it was because I couldn’t stand my therapist, but it felt like talking to her was a complete waste of time. I’m sorry if this is long to read, but I’m just trying to explain my situation in the clearest way possible. I joined this site just today because I need people who can give me advice, because I don’t know whether or not I should commit suicide, or find something positive in life to look towards, even though I don’t see anything as of now. Please help me. Anyone. Thank you.
I went back to school today and regretted it immediately upon entering the building. My head hurt, I was nauseous, and I was beyond tired. Within the first hour of school, I could feel myself slipping. I had to go to the bathroom during baking to get myself together and not break down in tears. The worst part is, I don’t even know why I was so upset.
I had my sociology exam, I probably did fine, but it felt like I wasn’t comprehending the questions, my eyes were just reading the words.
In creative writing, my teacher asked if anyone had not started their short story yet. Obviously, everyone has, but because I have my workshop soon he came up and asked if I had mine and if I would share it with him (we use google docs in the class). I had to lie and say it was handwritten and that I’ll type it up over the weekend. How was I supposed to tell him that I haven’t started it yet because I thought I would have killed myself before the deadline? I couldn’t.
I’m still not sure if I’ll be around for the deadline, but I should probably start it just in case.
I don’t really have much to say today, everything is kind of numb. This is sort of turning more into a diary/journal type thing, so whatever.
I stayed home from school again today, that makes 18 missed days for the year. I don’t think I’m allowed to miss any more or else the school will take us to court. I’ll probably still miss more anyway.
I have exams for my college courses this week, and I honestly could not possibly care less about my grades. I’m not going to college, anyway. I probably won’t even make it to my high school graduation.
Since the beginning of the semester, I’ve known about my final for my creative writing class. It’s a short story that has to be a minimum of 25 pages, double-spaced. This shouldn’t be an issue for me. I used to love writing. I still do. But I just can’t bring myself to sit down and write it. I have the whole story in my head, and I have some of it typed up, but I just don’t have the motivation to work on it. Every week, 2 or 3 people give the entire class their story, and they have a little less than a week to RTA them, and then we have a workshop on them. These workshops really help the authors, and I go on May 20th, so that means I have to turn in what I have so far on the 13th. I feel like such a disappointment because everyone else is working so hard and I only have about a paragraph done. I haven’t even looked at it since February. Damn, I’ve wanted to be an author since I could read, and this is all I’m capable of.
I’m gonna be honest and say it. I was planning on killing myself this weekend, but I keep finding stupid excuses not to. This fucking short story being one of them. It’s not even a good idea that I have, everyone else is so much better than me, but I still want to write it. I just don’t have the motivation or energy to do it, and I hate myself so much for this.
Whatever. This is it for now, I guess. I’ll probably sit here and think about my story instead of actually writing it, as always.
You can hit me up on tumblr, I’m the-lord-of-the-lamps there, too.