my two favourite youtubers are on tour together. yeah, so…
last night, i went to one of their shows.
it was so fun and so incredible.
it might’ve been one of the best nights of my life, if not the best.
each and everyday is a part of my history, a history that will be with me forever. unfortunately, i know that forever, i am going to look back on these years of my life and all i’m going to see will be an ugly kid with mental illnesses and no friends, just, wasting her life away. i want my history, i want my past, present, and future, to be happy, i want to do something worthwhile rather than just doing this wasting. uhm, yeah… this is not really what i imagined my life would be like.
the sky looked nice tonight. i saw the moon for the first time in a while. there were a few stars. the shade of blue was difficult to describe, it was deep, but, not black. like… navy, maybe. it made me feel some type of way.
well, unfortunately, not a single soul truly cares about me. i need to understand that. that the only one who cares about me, is me.
i’m so scared.
hey, well… oh, i saw my mum and two of my brothers two days ago. i last saw them in december. they’re all seriously beautiful, especially my brothers. my mum’s average looking, but whatever. i had a fun time, even if it wasn’t for long.
even though i’m an awkward introvert with social anxiety, i miss people. i miss being around people.
i’ve come to realise i’ve never really had a true friend, so, i can’t say i miss having friends. i don’t really know what it’s like to have friends. the idea doesn’t appeal to me much anymore. maybe, i miss the idea of them. the idea of a boyfriend is more appealing, which is weird, i know.
the idea of having someone i can expose myself to, and let them truly know me like no one else knows me, is bittersweet to me. it must be so… amazing, to love someone and have them love you back. all of you, all the bits and pieces you choose to expose to them and the bits that they discover themselves anyway. but, i’ve never had that, and it looks like i never will have that, which is the bitter part.
i’m the only person who knows me. who knows me inside out. and, that’s sad to me. if anything ever happened to me, no one would know the real me. i want to have people in my life who deserve to know the real me. i want to have people, or just one person, in my life that we can expose all aspects of ourselves to eachother, that we can love eachother so deeply, that we can rely on eachother no matter what.
i’m not just lonely, i’m alone. i’m so alone, and, i don’t want to be alone anymore. people need people. i need people.
mental illness has coloured my personality – it’s almost like i don’t know who i truly am…
i know i would be different if my illnesses faded away, or were just erased… but how different?
Well after years of social isolation suicidal depression and stress the chickens are finally coming home to roost. I no longer have the will to live and spend half the day in bed. I am on antipsychotic medication and am due a hospital assessment to determine whether I need hospitalizing. As a loser and social misfit I need a miracle to get out of this trap. Suicide is of course so final and hard to face but I feel is my only option as my life has become sheer agony. My only tears are for those I’ll leave behind. No one can help me, no one can save me. This is it for me. What a staggeringly cruel world this is, an evil lottery that randomly awards luck and crucifies the unlucky.
I think it was the first time this year. My social skill definitely have taken a toll because of it.
But i’m back alone in my dark small room now. ugh this is how my whole life is gonna be. i don’t want it. ill just die now thanks.
I’ve seen a bunch of therapists in the 14 years since I was first diagnosed with depression. None of them have been particularly effective. I guess that’s not surprising, given that I tend to use negative thoughts as a mechanism to avoid situations that are scary or tend to result in emotional pain. A therapist can give me a technique to challenge my thoughts or a behavior to lessen the power of those thoughts, but I’ve rarely tried any of them because I don’t actually want to challenge my thoughts. If I do, I know I will be likely to drag myself right back out there to face that pain again and it’s generally worse the second time.
I’ve been seeing my current therapist for almost two years. He is trying to get me to challenge my social phobia, always talking about how much I’m missing out on by avoiding social groups and romantic relationships. He doesn’t seem to realize that I truly don’t care if I’m missing out on that stuff; whenever I’ve told him so he insists that I’m lying to myself. I don’t really want to be pushed to fit in with society anymore; my dad did that for most of my later childhood and it resulted in me learning a lot of social skills but also increasingly hating myself and my life. At this point I mainly want to know how I can live without experiencing acute emotional pain on a regular basis, if that’s even possible.
My therapist occasionally comes up with some very good insights, which is why I’ve kept seeing him for this long, but I really don’t trust him at this point and there’s a lot of stuff I feel like I can’t tell him. I figure I should probably end things with him, but I have no idea who/what I should try next.
I suffer from Major Depressive Disorder, Existential Depression, with Suicidal Ideation. I’m from Detroit, MI. My primary full-time job has been working as an EMT for the past 10 years but I am also a DJ/producer. I’ve worked with, and been around some well known artists and I am moderately well known in the DJ community here in Detroit. I’m also apart of a DJ group here in Detroit that gave birth to, and holds membership of major radio DJs, as well as DJs for major artists. The first picture is of me with Big Sean, his DJ is DJ Mo Beatz who was a member of our DJ crew, known as The Conglomerate DJs. The second picture left to right (DJ Don Q, myself, Swifty McVay from D12) DJ Don Q is D12’s DJ (Eminem’s group) as well as a major member in our crew and a personal friend of mine. Baatin from Slum Village was also a close personal friend of mine, and if you are aware of what happened, he died of a drug overdose, as well as suffered from mental health issues. I say all this to say that I’m not a major celebrity, but I’ve been around the music industry for a while, and I’ve been stigmatized because of my mental illness. I’ve been cut from groups and crews because of the things that I post on my social media. I can say that the crew I roll with now, The Conglomerate DJs have never stigmatized me, and it’s been a decent group of people to be around. On our social media pages, we’re required to promote and market, and I’ve noticed that though I do have a small cult base following, I am stigmatized by the majority of fans and followers because of things I may post. I truly feel like an artist and can never represent anything that I don’t feel. Depression is something that has had such a great impact on my life that it influences what I may post, or even make a song about. I just feel hopeless at times. Just know depression, existential depression, and suicidal ideation can happen to anybody, maybe even someone you know or a celebrity you look up to.
Anyone have experience with therapists? I have social anxiety and I think its leading to depression, but I refuse to go to someone who’s gonna throw me some pills and kick me out.
Ever since I could remember I have been bullied and made a social out cast not only at school but at home as well. My father is a bad man and he has since been put in jail. My older two brothers aren’t exactly model siblings, and my mum takes all her anger and frustration out on me, even though I’m not a defiant child.
So as far back as I can remember I have felt these depressing feelings and have suffered from many mental illnesses. My mother, whom does not believe in that kind of thing, has been emotionally and physicaly abusing me since I was eight. She’s angry? Pulls the cord to the frying pan out of the draw and wips me with it until I have bruises all over me.
Doesn’t like the ‘depressing’ look on my face? Sits on top of me and beats me until I stop screaming, because the more I scream the more she hits. When I was in grade 7, I finally learnt what it meant to be slightly chubby and have bad social skills. I was bullied. My bag was thrown into the wheely bins, food was tipped on me when I had my back turned and all the kids scattered away from me like I was a disease. I had moves schools to get away from it, but history is doomed to repeat itself.
I didn’t know what self harming was in grade 7, nor mental illness, though I had been diagnosed with chronical depression. I loved the look of long nails, so I grew mine out. I also used them to take chunks of skin out of my wrists. Mum too me to the doctor several times, because she saw what I had done to myself, and I told her that there was a rash and it was itchy.
By the fourth visit to the doctor about this ‘rash’, he had me step outside the room while he spoke with mum. We drove home in silence. It wasn’t until we were home did she start yelling at me about doing it to myself.
From there, I became the highschool social out cast. I had no idea how to interact with people, I learnt that it wasn’t ‘normal’ to be attracted to the same sex (which I am) and everybody either thought I was shy or had a bad mouth.
No body sat with me. I sat alone for four years, everyday at lunch, I often stayed in the library. So grade nine rocks around, and I had moved the ‘skinning’ from my wrists to my thighs. And I met this girl. She had a blade on her, and I was curious to why. She knew I took skin off myself.
She showed me how to get a blade from a sharpener, and she cut her arm right in front of me. I remember her saying “it’s less painful than peeling skin off, but it bleeds more.” She told me to do the same with my blade. I knew my mum would be mad if she saw cuts on my arms, so I cut my leg, really deep. I cut it so deep you could see the fat.
I remember her saying “it’s less painful than peeling skin off, but it bleeds more.” Well, from grade nine onwards I hacked myself up. And I still do. From there I made sort of friends with some of the other students who cut themselves, and there were more emos in that Christian school that I would have guessed.
After a while,our school had a High school camp. On that camp, the grade above us thought it would be funny to play a dirty prank on the outcast. Me. So I thought some of the older girls wanted to share a cabin and get to know me. I was happy. I thought I might actually get some girl bonding done for once in my life.
The second day in I was sitting in the cabin alone drawing when a girl from the cabin next door came in. She gave me a dirty look as she walked paet my bunk, and she called me scum. Of course I was confused, but than again that’s all I saw myself as anyway.
About 10m after it was afternoon tea, so I went and sat with the girls from my cabin and had a drink. I noticed that the people from my grade and the grade above were giving me dirty looks. So I gotunconformable. By this point I was suffering sever social anxiety and depression so that got to me very quickly.
A teacher comes up to me halfway through my tea, and says in front of everyone (no one was talking so my grade, and the grade above and below could hear what this teacher said) she said I had to go to my cabin and clean the bed and pick up the used pads I put on the bed.
By this point I was shocked. Yes, my period fell on the camp day, but it was light and finished hours after the camp started. I had one pad and that was in the sanitary bins. So after the teacher said that in front of about 60 people, my anxiety got the best of me and I was dragged into a panic attack.
I ran from the eating area. I finally knew why I was getting all those looks. Apparently the whole high school thought I had put the pad there. It turns out the girls from the grade above did it. I was socially humiliated.
200 high school students thought I did it. And they still do. I was laughed at by the girls in my grade and the grade above. It was that bad that I had to spend the rest of the camp in the teachers cabin for sleeping.
I’m in grade 11 now. I have suicidle thoughts. The girl who led me on is now putting her hands down my best friends shirt. Some fucking friend. My mother calls me disfuntional and a waste of space and money. And she’s not wrong. I have cut my legs up again tonight, and I’ve had my fill in life. I turn 16 in three months. And I’ve been thinking about ending my life before than. I don’t want to turn 16, I like being 15. I don’t want to grow up and face society.
I’m a fucked up human being with no life who is breathing air others might need. No one will miss me either. I don’t have anyone close to me anymore. I have given up. My body is scared and my mind is ruined and I’m a terrible person.
I hope all those people who have hurt me over the years, I hope they have a nice life. They’re happy because they caused me pain. Enjoy what shred of life you have taken from me. My mum always told me that if you’re gonna kill yourself, do it right the first time.
I know probably all of anyone who reads this (I doubt anyone will) will skip most of what I ahbe written . and I don’t blame you. I bet no one even reade the whole thing.
I hope that the rest of you guys have a lovely night, and that you all feel better. Because even though I might play my own card one day, even though we may have never met, I’m rooting for you. Don’t give up like I have. I was fucked from the beginning: you aren’t, so please don’t hurt yourself, or please eat something if you haven’t already. Your a wonderful person, and there will always be that one person who always cares about you. Have a nice evening.
I feel like I’ve exhausted the people I can talk to. I’m just boring people with my suicidal state now and I’m scared of driving people away.
I talk to friends. I rant on social media. I feel like I’m just wasting time talking to volunteers of hotlines. I post here. None of it makes me feel better or is cathartic in any way. It’s just something to do because my brain won’t let me do anything else.
So I’ve been absent from this site for awhile. I’ve been busy clearing out my shit and NO WAY IN HELL would I have imagined what a heap of junk I’ve accumulated; I actually wish I had a huge pit of fire to throw it all into lol..I know this is something I have to do or I’ll feel like I’ve left a mess behind and I believe that would fuk me over if there is an afterlife..I’m just covering all my angles here. ITS STRESSFUL as for some reason I still have attachments to some of the junk but at the same time I’m closing up shop and it makes me happy 🙂
I have some good medical marijuana that’s helping lower my inhibitions a bit and some chill pills incase I have a panic attack along the way and my brain tries to stop me from getting rid of all my worldly possessions. It’s soo stupid as if I’m going to care what color of shirt I like or what flavour of pop or what jewellery I wear when I’m gone, this process should be going a lot quicker/smoother. I guess I’ve moved a lot in my life and this is like the millionth time I’ve packed and moved everything around. My appetite is shit ATM too so I have limited energy stores which doesn’t help at all 🙁
Just leaving this here cus’ I needed 2 vent and I don’t have anyone irl I can talk to without being thrown in an ambulance and hauled away. I also have terrible social anxiety around everything social including posting online so if I don’t reply to comments or in other posts much it’s because my brain is playing hide and go seek and I won’t be able to interact for random periods of time. Sometimes I push myself to reply and feel worse thinking I said something stupid or rude so there’s that also lol
Hope you all have a gr8 afternoon!!
Im so alone i have no friends at all not even online friends, ive had some online friends but that was a while ago. I cant remember the last time ive connected to anyone irl. I dont have very good social skills irl and im fucking shy as hell. Ive been in school since oct and have not made a single friend. I miss those 1 to 1 human interactions its so hard to go on everyday
I don’t particularly want to kill myself, but it has become the only practical solution. I believe some people aren’t meant to make it in this world, and that I am one of them. I learned how to pretend and act normal socially, but I can’t maintain it. When there’s no one telling me what to do, I just sit there, so I find it very hard to pretend to have a personality in a workplace or in order to maintain any human relationship. For a while, it works, because I can listen to other people and run around and have fun, and talk to many strangers, but it is like carrying an awful secret to know that no one can know that I can’t figure out life and that I don’t really have a life and depend on other people’s ideas. Talking to therapists hasn’t helped because they just want to put labels like “depression” and “social anxiety” and prescribe medications, but I don’t know how to explain that I spent a lot of time watching everyone around me and trying to be (or not be) like them, leaving me empty. I can’t seem to grow up because I have the same thoughts every day. I used to follow my instincts in order to survive, but now my instincts aren’t telling me anything helpful. Life feels like a very strange joke and just a long, slow death. So, I would rather speed it up than be burdensome on others or end up all alone on a street corner. I am waiting until after my brother graduates from college in a couple of months. Honestly, if I could figure out life, I wouldn’t do this, but I can’t really fake who I am anymore and I just don’t seem to fit in society. I don’t feel like another 50 years of this nothingness. Has anyone else felt like this?
I’ve been working a dead end job in a tiny racist town, known for being religious nutjobs, rednecks and KKK members. I could just end my story there and it would make sense, but im not done ranting.
My boss hired me under the table, so i do not pay taxes and cannot use my job on my resumee to find a new job. I pump gas 37.5 hours a week. There is no room for promotions or raises, i make minumum wage and forever will. My co-worker makes more than me, and works the exact same hours and the exact same job title. Ive been here for two years wasting my life away to nothing. Dont have the guts to ask for a raise (an under appreciated consequence of social anxiety).
My customers are racist, sexist and homophobic. This fat redneck with a landscapping company would come in for gas and pick on me daily. His favorite word was “******” and as i smile and say “thanks have a nice day” his response was “yeah, take it deep.” I try to respond but the muscles in my mouth clench as if i have a stutter and i can only quietly say “thanks have a good day”. The comebacks i think of, only come after he leaves, and i end up carving them into my arm with a boxcutter to remember for next time.
My boss rents the station property from a garage owner, who is a grumpy old man with no respect for human life. God forbid, my gas pumps, (built in 1970) stop working, and of course that makes me the worst employee in the world, who deserves verbal assault.
My social anxiety and depression prevents me from going through the hiring process to find a better job. My lack of college degree further closes doors to my future, not that there are any jobs open near me anyway.
Most of my freinds are homeless, even though we are from the US, one of the world’s richest super powers, cant even house themselves.
Being homeless, most of my freinds turned to heroin, and i lost 4 classmates to overdoses before i even left highschool.
My parents divorced when i was 13, my mom was addicted to painkillers and stole them from my dying grandparents. A few times, when i was too young to even call the police, i was home alone with my mom as she overdosed on Zanax, Oxycontin, and anti-seizure medications. Her addiction ended when my granparents died, and she no longer had a supply. She found a boyfreind who i just started to get used to, and than he shot himself through the heart in front of my mother. My mom lives alone in the house where she watched her boyfreind breath out and never back in. She is too poor to move, so she spends most days getting drunk and yelling at the walls of an empty house. That crushes me. I love my mom.
I attempted suicide multiple times, struggled with eating dissorders, (yes men get eating disorders too) and self mutilation. I tried to get counseling, but the system f****ed me. My insurance company said that the therapist was covered, but after 2 months of weekly sessions, my insurance withdrew coverage, and i went into debt, owing the full price of the 2 months i had already attended. I went into debt, because i searched for help.
Later i attempted a text based therapy session, after a free consultation, it turned out to cost money. I told the lady it was not fair that monetary value is held higher than the mental health of human beings, to which she responded, “therapy is not free, im sorry you feel that way” and promptly signed off and ended any further sessions. So professional help is out of the question, unless i win the lottery. Only rich people are worthy of being saved.
There are many sappy relationship stories that i dont care to get into, but they attributed to my depression, as well. Id rather leave them out to avoid the clichè complaints of dating.
The only thing keeping me alive, is the fact that i dont want to make my mother outlive me. She barely copes with one suicide, let alone if her own son died. I fear she may not live much longer, and if she goes, whats stopping me?
America makes me sick, built on top of the mass graves of natives, we slaughtered. Weve been at war for more than half of my life, spending more money on bombs to kill people and secure oil, than anything that we spend to keep us alive. Our education system is one of the worst in the first-world, that uses outdate textbooks that falsely teaches the bad sciences of 50 years ago. (Seriously, a book that refers to the great depression as “trouble to come” should probably be thrown away) We are so obsessed with material possessions that we riot and trample each other to literal death over product sales. We are a mostly “Christian” nation, meaning we value charities, but for some reason, Americans all hate the people who accept charity. We veiw poor people as lesser humans. We donate to them so we dont have to feel guilty, but we hate anyone who receives our donations and complain about those “freeloaders stealing our hard earned cash” that we donated…
I had high hopes as a child. I wanted to save the world from all the pollution. I wanted to be a scientist, an astronaut, a musician, a carpenter, and an artist. I was obsessed with space… Than i found out that theres a better chance of getting hit by lightening twice than to become an astronaut. I gave up.
I wanted to be a musician. Hahahahahahahahahahahaha. But my interest lies in the dying arts of Punk and Folk singer/ songwriters. I hate radio pop music. That wont happen. Nuff said.
when my parents die, i can finally die without any guilt. Im a young nobody who puts gas in cars, and it wont make a difference to the world. Heck, id create a job opening for the next poor schmuck fresh out of highschool. If my parents die, they cannot withdraw their pride in me. I could finally do whatever i want and bring shame to no one. If they are to die, however, death would be my only option. (That or becomming a traveling hobo. Havent decided yet.) See i live with my dad and im completely dependant on him. I dont have enough money for a home, and i dont even know how to do taxes (we never learned in school how to deal with money, the single most important thing in the world, if you dont beleive money is important, ask yourself why poverty and starvation exists…. Because the answer is money and property ownership)
so theres my story. Im waiting for my parents to pass away, so i can stop suffering for them, and kill myself. I read other comments on this site about how we shouldnt “live for others” but honestly, if i wasnt living for my parents, i wouldnt be living… So theres that. Heres to another day of pumping gasoline, and resisting the urge to swallow a gallon and eat a match.