when i used to self harm i used to hit my head a lot, i didnt think of it that much back then but now i see the result. probably any type of self harm is better than hitting ur head, i suffer from memory loss, but no one would probably believe me, i dont even remember basic stuff such as what happened the day before, what somebody told me or things that i did, i may sound dramatic but its worse than it sounds. i dont remember how i started it but i did it everytime my mom was bitching about smth that ive done or havent done and continued by doing it when im angry. since ive realized how bad the result is i try not to, i developed anger issues over time and keep hitting myself and biting myself out of anger, its hard to stop. my head hurts so bad everyday and i feel dizzy sometimes no matter what i do, take medicine or even drink a lot of water, i dont know if thats because i hurt my head or something else but it scares me. i wish i wasnt like that, i wish i never did this, i might seem so retarded because of what ive done to myself but i cant help it now, i dont know what can. there are many other bad things including in my bad mental health, i became so mentally unstable that it scares me, so many bad and disturbing thoughts in my mind everyday, im even scared of myself, im scared ill snap one day and do something bad. i hear someone calling my name everyday even when im home alone, i really wanna believe that its not something bad and that im not a schizo. i often find myself having random conversations in my mind, it could be me talking about random things or someone is speaking to me, i dont understand whats happening and after a long time that its happening i try to figure out whats really happening. im kind of trying to express myself in art sometimes but im not too creative to do that, i just draw some shitty gore that is a bit close to what i feel. also im afraid to get help because i dont trust anyone that is not my close and real friend, i cant be open with anyone, even if i did get open and be honest id get to a mental hospital, thats my worst fear but my first worst fear is that my parents finding out about that, i dont want them to know how fucked i am. im slowly losing myself, i feel so lost..
Not sure what I’m hoping for, writing this. Just need to vent, I guess.
Basically, I’m just sick and tired of people in power going out of their way to cover up the fact that people like me exist. That is people who are unapologetically suicidal and can compellingly demonstrate that our desire to die is rational and justified.
Last year, my government ran yet another inquiry into a particular sub-area of the mental health crisis in our country. In my country, anyone can make a submission to most government inquiries, expressing their views, ect., and expect those submissions to be acknowledged by the government and published on the inquiry’s website.
Typically, the turn-around between making a submission and the government publishing that submission will be somewhere between a couple days and a week.
With this inquiry, I started writing what I anticipated being about a 10-12 page submission, but the sense of injustice just kept flowing like a ruptured dam and I ended up with a document containing almost 140 pages of testimony about the mental health system, suicide, and the problems of our culture with regard to suicide and despair.
I sent the document to the inquiry’s handlers, and for weeks I heard nothing in return. Not even a courtesy “We recieved your submission”. I had to chase them up for confirmation that the document was recieved, which they acknowledged. But it still didn’t appear on their website and they claimed this was because they were “very busy”. Meanwhile, submissions that were dated AFTER my own were being posted on their website.
Eventually, my submission was posted on the website, 4 months after I’d submitted it, and only a couple days before the inquiry officially concluded! However, according to an insider, the inquiry’s final report had actually been composed weeks prior, and was now just sitting in some politicians’ desk draws waiting for the official reporting date to roll around. Most likely, the senators running the inquiry never even looked at my submission; and I suspect that it’s publication was put off til the last possible minute so that outside watchers of the inquiry wouldn’t be aware of it’s existance.
Why? Because in several places I present arguments for why many peoples’ decisions to commit suicide are rational and justified with regard to their circumstances, and argue that “suicide prevention” in such situations must focus on changing the horrendous circumstances, and not the mind of the person enduring them. My submission doesn’t try to ‘talk anyone into committing suicide’, it tries to talk the powers that be into being respectful and enlightened towards the suicidal person’s thoughts, values, feelings and experience.
My stance is that we can’t have a proper and effective public discussion about suicide until the people who believe they are better off dead then alive are aloud to speak freely an unencumbered, so that they can clarify to everyone else why they have adopted that stance and what changes they need to see in order to find life the more preferable choice.
“Stop trying to fix the rational suicidal person and instead start fixing the lives that aren’t worth living” would be the takeaway message I’m trying to impart.
But, I suspect, the people braying over and over that “we need to talk about suicide”, “we need to encourage the suicidal people to reach out and talk about what they are going through”, are loathe to admit that there are clearheaded, rational people out here who can effectively defend their preferance for death. As loudly as they might protest our suicidalness if they ever caught us standing on the ledge of a building, in reality, they don’t want us to exist.
A little over two weeks ago, I submitted an adapted version of my previous submission to a new government inquiry. So far, it’s shaping up as the same shit. Submissions that were submitted later then mine are appearing in droves on the inquiry’s website. Several of them are almost as big as mine, and a couple are even bigger. Many of them, like mine, are scathing of our mental health industry. The only thing I can see that sets mine apart is the fact that I unapologetically admit to being suicidal, that I maintain that it is a legitimate stance for me to be suicidal, and that I present compelling arguments for why suicidalness can often be rational and justified.
I sent an email to the inquiry staff asking if they’d gotten my submission and politely prompting them for some explaination about the delay. I sent it a day before the long weekend started. No response. I know they’ve been at work, because new submissions have been appearing on the website.
Even if it was published today, it would simply be a nondescript submission buried in the middle of all the others. It would appear in the middle of the list, and likely nobody would ever notice it was there. I’m sure that’s not by accident. They don’t want anyone to contemplate the contributions of the suicidal man, much less his legitimacy. They just want everyone to keep bullying him into “getting the ‘help’ he needs.”
It’s yet to be seen whether my submission will be published at all, let alone whether or not it will actually be considdered by the inquiry board.
TBH, I really don’t like my chances.
I’m tired of it. So very very tired.
As a citizen, I have a right to be heard by my government. Those are the explicit values of our western-type democracy, and the very justification for why they make these inquiries open to public submissions in the first place.
As a suicidal man, I have the right to state my position clearly and frankly in a public discussion on the topics of mental health & suicide.
I speak respectfully. I speak honestly. I speak frankly. I speak relevantly on matters that are not only deeply important to myself, but to the entire nation, and especially it’s suicidal citizens. Yet I am made invisable because the facts are that suicide can often be compellingly justified and I have the nerve to bring those facts to light.
Just stop with the goddamned hypocrasy! Stop weeping that you want us to stay with you here in life, then do everything in your power to make it as if we – along with everything we think, believe and cherish – don’t exists. If you don’t want me, and other rational suicidals around, then just let us go and stop bitching about the fact that we kill ourselves.
— End Rant (for now) —
I’ve been wondering what you all (out there in cyberspace) consider to be the answer to your problems. I know there are some out there who feel there is no hope at all and they should just end it all. You could be sitting in your room right now about to do some thing you can’t take back. So why not give this a thought? What would help you?
I once attended Job Corps in my early twenties. I found that having EVERY THING planned out for me really helped me develop a routine that I couldn’t/can’t do on my own. It’s been years since I’ve been there but for months after attending there, I was much more active in keeping a clean environment and actually getting myself to move. My mind constantly runs on dark thoughts and feelings of emptiness so when every thing was done for me, I didn’t have to think much about what I was supposed to do and just followed a list.
Wake up at 6 AM
Fix the bed
Complete the chore assigned to me on that day
Head to school
Complete another list of tasks pertaining to the trade I was in (I didn’t do too well with this)
After school go back to the dorm and do what ever the heck you wanted.
Simple things. My JC center was in the middle of the woods and QUITE beautiful. So my closest friend and I would sneak off campus deep into the woods to smoke some marjie and meditate. It was the most peaceful and wonderful experience that I wish I could experience again. We had VERY limited communication with the outside world so the campus was practically life.
I didn’t complete my time there. I had an altercation with a young lady that I tried to help… but it blew up in my face some how and I pretty much let my emotions get the best of me, so I left. That was a mistake. I miss that life. And I’m sure if I had continued, it would have probably helped me get some where much farther than I am now.
Would you try to die without dying? Escape some where beautiful and secluded, where every thing is planned for you and all you have to do is follow? Leave behind every thing and every one you knew until you could feel yourself coming alive again?
A lot of the stress I experience comes from the people around me and their perceptions of me. I don’t care what anyone says, a lifetime of being judged can either turn you into someone who cares too much or someone who cares too little. Both are detrimental.
How would you feel to go some where, where every one suffered more or less the same? People who understand your plight in every way and wont tell you that you’re just a lazy waste of life… or have assumptions of who you are or who you’re suppose to be?
How would you feel if this place was staffed with people who DO NOT think pills are the answer and are there for you? Filled with classes ranging different subjects from building your drive to learning how to feed your body and soul?
What is YOUR cure??
i always thought this was an interesting aspect what did everyone do on what they thought was going to be there last day on earth ?
i got up early, went to school, hung out with all my friends, came home,ate my favourite take away, cleaned my room, showered, wrote a note, took a handful of pills and went to sleep. unfortunately it obviously didnt work and i woke up in the middle of the night in severe pain regretting what i had done
I feel like I’m crossing the point of thinking about death to making it happen. So I started thinking about my attempts to make things better, many times have I seen therapists, doctors support workers etc. I’ve always felt these people to very dishonest, good intentions, bad methods. The most recent person I worked with was titled a social inclusion officer I think. I spoke with them a few times before I reached the point where I couldn’t trust them. They always say things like “things will get better” and “you’re a good person”.
I can’t help but think, I’ve just met you, I’m a complete stranger please don’t talk to me like you know me, it’s insulting and condescending. Do people in mental health professions think we are all really dumb or something? That you can just say nice things and we’ll believe them without context. I feel that maybe as a result of their studying and training in helping people, they’ve developed a distant view of them. We are still PEOPLE! Talk to us, not at us!
Anyway there’s how I feel about “mental health professionals” I think I probably wouldn’t be in such a dark place if I never asked for help. I wanted to know some other peoples opinion on them.
There is, what I believe to be a misguided therapeutic view of suicide by medical people, social workers, government types all chattering about the different aspects of this troubling and discordant reality, but they have accomplished almost nothing since the advent of modern medical and academic study, and may have even exacerbated the issue.
Scrupulously fact checked books, articles, medical, philosophical, academic discourses on suicide almost universally call for a psychiatric or therapeutic “cure” to stop suicides from occurring, and despite titles like “Reasons for Suicide” and topic headings to that affect, they really never address the real reasons for suicide and they refuse to lend any shred of credibility to the endless hours of thinking and suffering that have gone into these decisions.
Suicide, and suicidal thinking is not a just another symptom on a branch of a monolithic all encompassing mental illness tree diagram; it is a valid and reasonable conclusion in tens of thousands of suicides in the United States every year.
It is de-humanizing and patronizing to universally dismiss these profound philosophical life choices that so many people struggle with so tortuously just to imagine you’re protecting the genteel and humane fabric of society. The societal fabric will do just fine. All those devastated survivors that this is really all about, apply your therapeutic remedy to them, don’t strip away the last expression of free-will and purpose from the person who has already suffered so horribly for so long.
Sometimes the pill that cures all your ills is the black capsule.
Just because I don’t want to live, does mean I don’t want a good life, I don’t want to sit around an wait to die, funny the things you randomly ponder
i’m trying hard to keep my mind under control, with all these silly thoughts, and the frustration that builds up over things that aren’t that important, and also trying to ignore the temptation I’m having lately to drink
As I sit here typing this, I feel like such a mess, an I realise how far I’ve fallen, and how fast, even though I didn’t have far to go, I set the scene as a crazy cat lady, or in my case a cat man?? my hair is uncut and greasy, I’m still in my slob like bed clothes, stained t-shirt an all, the battery in my razor ran out last night, half way through shaving, and I sit here with a half shaved face with no attempt to fix it, my diet has imploded on itself, I’m now two stone heavier and don’t have the will power to change that fact
Where is the drive, and the motivation, as bad as I’ve been in the past, I always cared for myself appearance wise, the outside always a mask for what I was really feeling, it was an illusion, I think perhaps as I’ve gotten older, now 28, I’ve learned that I can’t change how I feel by dressing nice and doing my hair etc, also i’m not the same person I was 4-5 years ago, I’m not as insecure, an that stuff seems less important now
Most of my nice clothes don’t fit anymore anyway, I haven’t bought anything new in quite a while, because I tell myself there’s no point buying slightly bigger clothes, one because I will lose the weight eventually, and two because buying them would be like excepting it, we lie to ourselves
Its hard for me now, with the extra weight I’m more sluggish, I get tired easier, the quetiapine doesn’t help matters either, or the fact I barely go out anymore, and haven’t left the house in about 8 months now, when I don’t get a taxi and make myself walk, the muscles tighten up so much in my calfs that I’m almost crippled, the same walk I’d done for years
Its going to be a long road back to where I first let things slip, but I’m ready to look in the mirror, and see ‘me’ again
On a slightly happier note, my younger brother, who as you know is in prison, gets a three day release on tuesday, and then is free a couple of weeks later, though that doesn’t come without drama, as he’s already said he can’t promise he won’t drink, never mind he recently found out he has hepatitis C, which I believe is a result of him either having liver damage, or from a guy injecting him with a dirty needle one drunken night, luckily he’s treatable, but it didn’t seem to wake him up to anything
Also I got a little good news, my disability living allowance was awarded again for another two years, so that takes a little stress away
As bad as I’ve been, looking to the future, I have a lot of insight, an I always hold out on hope, there’s always a strength in me, no matter how small its voice, I believe in living and learning, especially from mistakes
Everything we do, and will do in life changes us as people forever, sometimes for better or worse, its a constant battle, its a journey that hasn’t been fully written yet, its never over until the end, we never lose until we’ve lost
Read my full blog here http://tylaralexander.wordpress.com – Tears Of A Loved One
Please someone, Anyone….Help me….I wanna die so badly right now, and i have no one to talk to…Please… Just Please….Talk to me…Don’t leave me alone….I don’t wanna be alone anymore…
Its hard when you don’t really have anyone to turn to, it can be a lonely existence
Over the last year, I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut when I’m around the people in my life, because I know they are no longer interested in what I have to say, or how messed up I feel, but I guess I can’t blame them, but the one thing that makes me angry is when they say ‘I know how you feel’ or ‘I’ve been through the same thing’ its not a competition but if each person suffered the same, one treatment would work for everyone
Lately I’ve formed a new phobia, as if I hadn’t enough ‘labels’ attached, but its of doctors and my mental health team, before every appointment I panic, I feel sick and it puts me off going until I’m desperate, then I leave feeling fragile, angry and impulsive
As I told you, Dr C accused me of using my illness as blackmail to get more diazepam, and since that day I haven’t been back to see her, the second doctor, Dr H, just sits there most of the time ‘yes, uh huh, uh huh’ its hard to talk to him, an even harder to tell if he even listens, when I go to my mental health team, I seem to see someone new every time, who are all these people? Temps?
Not long ago Dr H was reading through a report from my mental health team, it mentioned hallucinations, an he was like ‘you’ve never mentioned that to me before’ like I’d suddenly made it up, or when he quickly skimmed a report an said the mental health team said I should only be taking medication when I’m feeling down, an not so much when I’m feeling better
If he had of read it properly, it was diazepam they were talking about, any doctor should know the rule of medication, just because you’re feeling better, don’t stop taking it, and its things like this that frustrate an anger me so much, and have caused my new phobia
I’ve been with my current surgery since I first moved home, and I’m too afraid of moving to another medical practice with new doctors, so I’m trapped in this revolving circle where I’m lost in the system and no one understands me, they love to label me as ‘complex, and being an historian’ I can’t help who I am, how I come across and how I explain myself
I don’t want to be the type that talks through tears ‘no one listens to me’, I don’t want to be that clichÃ©, but that’s where I am
Continuing with this theme, my last post was about benefits, and today I phoned in, and my bank was empty, no DLA payment, I’m in the middle of a renewal, so stressful! I left it too long to have the form back, so it stopped, its my own fault, I had away from last year, but I couldn’t bring myself to fill it in, who knew a few pages filled with questions about yourself could be so scary, but for me it is, I couldn’t find the words, my mind was blank, I couldn’t concentrate on it at all
By the end, where it asked ‘is there anything else you’d like us to know’ I was very emotional that day, and used that part to let rip at my life, my family, the mental health team, and my doctor, which I regret, wrong place, wrong time, they don’t care about that kind of thing, I just lost control for a minute
I went in to Dr H friday past, we fill the form he gets from DLA in together, sort of, last time he filled it in really well, this time he rushed it, apart from my diagnosed mental illnesses, and medication, he wrote, ‘low mood, low motivation, finds it hard to leave the house, an that I need my medication supervised’ so not exactly in-depth, I’ll just have to wait an see what happens, but a part of me doesn’t care anymore, I could live without the stress of it all
In a way it was strange to hear someone else sum up my life in such a simple way, with few words, like he didn’t know me at all, but then I don’t even know myself lately, I only know how I feel…
I haven’t left the house much in six months, because I’m finding it hard to cope right now, and I don’t feel like I want to be apart of the world outside, another part of me thinks of how much life I’m wasting locked away on my own, but its hard
When I do go out, I feel everyones eyes on me, I feel like I’m walking around with a big sign that says ‘look at me, look how odd I’m behaving’ I feel like I want to run, an hide somewhere, away from their gaze, I feel like a caged bird panicking to get free
Other times I’ve even had urges to throw myself in front of on coming traffic, its horrible, though when I’m with someone else, its not as bad
With all the anxiety, and with my social phobia, i mostly pay for taxis now into town, just to a shop, an then home again, that’s mostly the max I can handle, when there, I seem to buy enough junk food to feed a whole family, I come home an binge until I’m sick, swallowing my feelings, I’ve put on about two stone now in a short period of time, which makes me hate the way I look, an how I feel, its self punishment I guess
My mum and step-dad go out most evenings, they don’t even tell me, they just go an leave me at home, I’ve mentioned it to them, but nothing changes, my mum comments on how much time I’m spending in the house, but wouldn’t even offer to bring me with them, this family of mine are such a selfish bunch of people
You’re only as good as your last act of kindness, and all they ever talk about are themselves, I’m sick of it, I tell myself constantly that I’m done, that the first chance I get, I’m gone, and maybe then they will appreciate what they had, and by that I mean my own place, nothing morbid
Tonight, I’m home alone again, my mum even took the dog for some reason this time, and yes, its just as depressing as it sounds
They don’t realise how much I’ve changed, and who I’ve become, like a stranger in someone elses house, how everyday I become a little more distant, a little quieter, maybe I’m a good actor, but I know that’s not true! Maybe they’d rather choose to be blind than to worry
I tell myself to let rip and let them have it, but I never do, I’d rather have pride than pity
I don’t want to rely on others, I want to go it alone, at the same time, I know I can’t, or if I did I wouldn’t last long, I know being alone would make me more of a danger to myself, but then I’m alone so much as it is
There are people dying right now of serious illnesses, and by comparison my problems probably don’t seem so big, but sometimes in my darkest moments, I’d rather swap with one of them, I’d rather be dying somewhere, an I know they’d rather live my hell than die
I get the thoughts like a lot of people to self harm, I used to when I was younger, until I realised it gets you nowhere, it doesn’t really let out the hurt, its only a distraction and a false high
I like to think of myself as pandoras box, past all the darkness, and when you’ve reached bottom, there’s always hope
Read my full blog http://tylaralexander.wordpress.com – Tears Of A Loved One
I got to this point where I didn’t want to die. I saw my future for the first time in years. I thought I had a future. I thought maybe I mattered, that maybe I could survive, that people liked me and I could handle relationships. I was so wrong. Here I am, in college sitting in my closet, wanting to escape again. I don’t think I can do this. I don’t have enough left in me to keep going. But I also made the mistake, in the time that I was feeling ok about myself and my life, to get attached to people again. I had stopped caring before. I had been smart enough to detach myself from their reality. But now I care too much, and I know that people care about me. Yet, how can I continue? I’ll never get my degree. I’ll never really fit in with any person or group of people. I’ll never find a career that I love and desire. I’ll never be good enough for myself or anyone else. I’ll never find a love that could endure my mental health fiasco. I’ll never feel better. I just can’t take much more of this existence. I hate to think that my life is draining anyone else, but I know it is. I know people are worried about me. I know they care too much and don’t understand enough to try and help. It’s exhausting, and nobody deserves that. Even my own counselor won’t answer my emails. I do hope that things are ok with her. I would never want to be here feeling sorry for myself because she won’t answer only to find out that she’s sick or something terrible happened. I don’t know. I’m just so self-centered and selfish. I try to help others, but I’m so insecure that it’s hard. I just wish there were more options, but I’m stuck.
Anybody that has been with CAMHS (Children Adolescence Mental Health Service) comment and tell me what your experience was like with them; mine was okay but there were aspects of CAMHS which i wasn’t impressed with and some factors that led me to get progressively worse!
Tomorrow morning Iâ€™m going to my first counseling appointment with a counselor of my choice who specializes in the areas I need help with most. Scared and anxious are words that donâ€™t even do the situation justice. Iâ€™m beyond terrified, but I will be strong and I will not resist help like Iâ€™ve always done in the past. I wish I had just one person standing by my side, telling me Iâ€™m making the right choice and I will be okay, but I donâ€™t. In the end we have ourselves and that has to be enough.
I have suicidal thoughts pretty much everyday that will not go away.
Each day college becomes a closer reality, my anxiety gets even more unbearable.
Iâ€™ve gone from weighing 127 to 121 just this week by restricting calories.
Iâ€™ve also thrown up more times in a week than I did in the entire first 16 years of my life.
Iâ€™ve cut myself because I wanted to control at least some of my pain.
Iâ€™ve kept it all a secret and Iâ€™ve taken special steps to cover it all up.
I need help. Whether I want it or not, I need it. Sitting in a room with a stranger telling them all of the above listed items sounds like Hell. Then again, continuing to live the way I have been, eating barely enough to stay alive and dreaming of death also sounds a lot like Hell. We all have the power to turn our lives around. Itâ€™s a hard concept, I struggle with it daily. I keep thinking I need to be skinnier and sicker before I get help, but why? My family doesnâ€™t support me receiving counseling, they donâ€™t acknowledge mental health in general. Just because they donâ€™t support me doesnâ€™t mean it canâ€™t be done. Iâ€™m the one living with these problems, I know they are real, and it doesnâ€™t make me weak for needing help.
I wish society knew what it was like to live wanting to die. Iâ€™m not crazy, a coward, illogical, weak, or stupid. Iâ€™m a fighter. Sometimes you have to do things you donâ€™t want to do, thatâ€™s why Iâ€™m going to counseling.
So yeah, Iâ€™m scared, but itâ€™s not going to stop me from recovering. I deserve to recover.
I’m not sure how to say this, I’ve never posted on something like this before. But I quit.
I’m turning 18 in almost 2 weeks, but I don’t think I’ll last that long. I’m depressed, I have been for a while, but instead of accepting that and finding a way to cope with it, my dad is ignoring it. I really noticed it after my mom passed away a year and a half ago. Granted, it’s normal to be sadder than usual during that time, I realize this. To try and cheer up, I tried looking back at the time before we learned she had cancer, back when life was supposed to be carefree, 7th grade for me. I wasn’t that girl wearing too much makeup, I wasn’t the shy little girl with books, I wasn’t the energetic bubbly everyone-loves-her kid. I was that girl who would walk along with her hand trailing on the school buses. I’m sure from a distance it would appear I’m playing with wind or something but honestly, I was wondering how much pain I would experience before my skull cracked enough for me to stop feeling things. Not long enough, I’d decided.
I’ve been trying to handle this problem for a while, and it’s gotten worse the past couple weeks. All my attempts to let someone know have backfired, my older siblings keep telling me to get a job, sleep more and fall in love, my younger brother just kind of gives me space and my dad doesn’t even let me finish speaking before telling me I need to sleep more and stop being a *****. I’m at the end of my rope, not literally. I don’t want to live anymore. I can’t kill myself though. Every time I consider it, I think about how hard my mom struggled to live without giving up and it hurts because I know she would be disappointed in me. She approved of everything I did, all my life choices, but she wouldn’t let me live like this. She’s not here anymore though, and my dad isn’t exactly covering for her.
I guess I’m posting this because I need to rant because there’s nothing anyone can do other than alert the mental health people near me. I don’t want to die, I’m not religious but I know suicide is wrong. Still, it’s starting to look like the only way to stop this feeling of not being worthy of life.
The last 3 years off my life has been hell and I have suffered from suicide attempts and self harm. I have wrote my story down but it is 500 pages long and too big for here. I am trying to publish it to promote awareness for mental health. I have made a video of it on YouTube. You can look up a friend 4 me – diary of a suicide survivor. If anyone can point me in the right direction I would be very greatful. Thankyou.
Since I was the age of 15 (I’m 23 now) I have had various suicide attempts, each time either I fucked up at the last minute or the police intervene. I’ve been to psychologist, psychiatrist, specialists, councilors and been admitted to a mental health faculty. The past 3 years have been the hardest to cope with. I’ve tried getting help, but got nowhere. I get the feeling society wants me to kill myself (and I don’t blame it).
What shits me is that these attempts are quite life threatening, yet no-one has ever diagnosed me with a condition other than anxenity, but each time I’m talking with doctors they say “it’s more than anxenity”. I’ve been refused to be medicated on the excuse that I was a heroin addict (18 months clean) and prescription pills may turn me into a addict again. Only recently has the suggestion that my problem maybe a cyst or tumor in the brain. I’m currently on a waiting list to get a MRI scan done. Deep down I’m hoping for a tumor as a dignified death without being remembered as “coward” for taking my own life.
I used to own a small business which I closed 1 years ago, it did quite a good turnover until the economy went to shit. Since then I’ve struggled to find work, As of 3 months ago I was taken off welfare payments because of a “clerical error”. So now I don’t have any income other than pawning my stuff or collecting scrap metal from bins..
To be honest, I don’t really want people telling me “it’s going to be ok” and “I’m here to talk to”. My mind is made up that somehow I will die in the near future.
I don’t know why I am posting this…. other than somewhere in the world it’s written down that I can’t handle being alive anymore.
Wouldn’t it be nice if the world ends??
I’ve pretty much given up on suicide for the moment. I can’t put my family through it. I just dread the day when I’m too much for them to look after, because I can’t support myself.
The end of the world would be nice. At least it’s something I could get involved with. Oh well, wishful thinking.
I’m one of those people who can’t face the world. I can’t face people. I can just about talk to people online, unless they start to get to know me, which is when I usually back away because I can’t commit myself to the normal interactions that relationships need.
I spend every day wondering how to bring meaning to my life. Eventually I realise that what I’m doing is pointless. Unless I get out of this rut, my life will always be empty.
But if I do get out of this rut, I will just want to get back into it again because life is too much to handle. I can’t handle people or stress. Not to mention the bouts of WTF that my mental health brings.
I’m so tired of being on this planet
I’m not in the best of mindsets at the moment. All I can think about is Suicide.
I know that I probably shouldn’t be but today I realised something.
Nobody wants me here.
I haven’t been diagnosed with any sort of mental healthÂ issue but I know that I’m severely depressed. This upsets me more.
I’ve been in denial for so long. I lied to my loved ones. I’ve cut, bruised, hurt myself to the point where I don’t know who I am anymore.
I wish that things were different [like everybody else] but wishful thinking will never get me anywhere.
My thoughts aren’t my own anymore.
Nobody wants to knowÂ me because I’m a horrible, manipulative, game – playing, pathetic, vindictive, sly, cruel, lying human being.
I’ve ruined every relationship between all of my loved ones.
I’ve made people actually hate me.
I’m seen as an attention seeker because I want to die. I just wanted somebody to listen.
Things just got out of control.
I don’t control anything anymore – my thoughts, acts, feelings – nothing.
It’s like I switch to a different person and although I know that this is happening [at the time] I can’t stop myself.
This person’s different to me – she has a separate life.
I hate her.
She’s messed up my life for way too long. And that is also my fault.
She controls my mind so all I hear is, “You’re not good enough”, “die”, “nobody wants you”, “you’re pathetic”, “death is the only way out”, “LISTEN TO ME, YOU IGNORANT FOOL” & much more.
When I don’t listen to these thoughts, I have to cause a laceration anywhere on my body. I am a failure. At relationships. At education. At life.
It hurts to the point where I just want to stop breathing.
In her world, everybody’s an enemy. She’s ruined every single thing. She’s tarnished my reputation. She’s killing me.
Slowly, my life is becoming hers.
I can’t even be myself in my own world.
I’m left picking up her pieces.
My name is Teresa, and I am a Depressed teen….
Oh GAWD.. did i really just say that. . . . ok let me start over… let me be real with you guys… and girls.
Hi, I’m Teresa. I am 17 years old. My birthday is April 4th. And I can promise you i won’t live past the age of 18.
I bet you all are curious why. I bet you all already know the reason. so does it really have to be said out loud? I think not.
My life sucks. I hate starting out so cliche. but this is one way to start that you will all understand. go ahead start looking trough your fucked up little minds of yours. don’t worry your not alone. i am doing the exact same thing right at this moment. all right. well. i don’t really want to spill out my whole life story. or why the fuck i want to die. cause honestly you all have probably heard it before. my story isn’t much different. i guess. but it is unique Â aren’t all of our stories though????
exactly. soooooo. I just lost where i was going with this. . . . . i guess im your typical case.
I was abuse physically, mentally, verbally, and i guess you could say sexually. but the thing was. with the sexual thing. i was only 3 or four. my ex-stepsister who i believe is about four years older than me, molested me. yeah fucked up right. but i don’t know. I see it as what ever. doctors see it as a impacting event of my mental health. or some shit like that.
well my parents are shit. and my other family members just don’t understand. i mean don’t get the totally wrong message about my parents.
my moms a drunk blah blah blah. . . and my dad disowned me just a few months ago. shit got realy after that. but its what ever.
so right now i live with my grandmother… by my own choice. even though she doesn’t understand this mental shit. she thinks i perpously make myself this way. and time and time again i have tried to tell her. what the fuck would you do if you had voices in your head screaming at the top of there lungs telling you to kill your self. and she just gets that look and drops the subject in disbelief.
to be honest i wish i didn’t feel this way. i want a normal life. i do the therapy shit and take my meds like a good girl. but shit never stays good for very long. i had this plan long ago. i’ve been obsessing over it for about a year now. and im sick of trying to get better. im tired of it all.
i want to die.
i don’t want to keep cutting just to make it through each day.
i don’t want to talk to shrinks and doctors.
i don’t want to have to take little colorful pills to stay sane.
i just want to die.
and so i am saying goodbye to so many people.
through my blog —->Â http://thisismylifeinquestion.tumblr.com/
there is a password of course. ‘teresa’
follow me do what ever ask me shit. hell i might even tell you my whole life story. so you all can know im not one of those attention seeking little bitches who probably need as much help as me. . . . well im going to post this now. im sick of typing. ugh….. *pops knuckles* ill post soon.
Before this post is removed, I hope someone can help me find the information I need. For the SP Moderator, whenever you swoop in, technically I am writing about my suicide story.Â It just hasn’t happened yet. Foreshadowing technically counts as a literary technique. I’m writing the introduction to my story. If Shakespeare was allowed to give away the ending of Romeo and Juliet, why can’t I?
Of all the methods I have (not efficiently) researched and heard discussed, the one most obtainable and suitable for me would be a bullet through the brain. However, as an incompetent, sheltered teenager, I don’t even know how to buy a gun. Before Congress has a chance to change the rules, how can I go about purchasing one? No, I’m not homicidal or psychopathic, so don’t worry about that. I just want to put MYSELF out of my misery. Since age matters, know I need whatever an 18-year-old can receive. As far as I’ve read, official background checks take mental health into account, but supposedly gun shows have loopholes. Do I need a gun-savvy friend to get in or can I find one solo and bring the cash? If I went through a licensed dealership, how in-depth are those background checks? If I went to a mental hospital when I was fourteen, can the dealer find those records or are they sealed since I was a minor?
Any info is appreciated.