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edward52
Posts: 1
Joined: Thu May 16, 2019 4:05 am

hi

Postby edward52 » Thu May 16, 2019 4:42 am

i've never done this before, but i stumbled upon this site while searching ways to kill myself lol. ive come to terms with myself and have finally come to the conclusion that i may be indeed, depressed. I thought this was something that I was going through merely as an adolescent and that as I grew older, i would eventually get over it. I'm older now, and I still frequently cry myself to sleep, isolate myself from family, and find ways to ruin my relationships with peers, as well as romantic ones. I think what has been the hardest thing for me is having to open up to someone, and discuss those things that tear me apart. the things that make we want to end it each day, and that linger in in my mind as a reminder that I am miserable and will never attain any sort of happiness.

I wanna start off by beginning with what may be the start if my disturbances. I never had a parental figure, and I was taken to my mother's country at an early age to be raised by her and her family. I am criticized now because I refuse to go back and visit family, but what my mother does not understand is the pain that I feel from merely remembering the place. I will never be able to bring myself to explain to her the disgust I have for myself, the shame that I will never be valued or cared for. That I was reprimanded from my own innocence and childhood. To have a relative's musty and disgusting desires ruin your life. I was merely 4 when I was sexually assaulted, and what I thought to have been bad dreams and illusions turned out to be a terrifying truth that I had so long tried to bury in my thoughts. I can never see value in myself. I can never trust another being. I can never find peace, or be happy. What hurts the most is knowing that someone else was aware of this happening to me, and that they kept quiet. It eats me inside, because my own family would do nothing to seek justice for me. That they did nothing to help me. Moving past this, I dont let this incident get the best of me. Or at least I try not to. I understand that others have gone through things much worse, and I shouldnt seek pity from others. So i choose to remain silent my whole life, and tell no one.

I'm not sure what triggered me in my adolescence that through me over the ship. Was it the my socioeconomic hardships and difficulties in life that made me want to end it? or was it the negligence from my mother, when I merely wished to speak to her about my day? To tell her about my accomplishments in school? To seek some sort of approval and show her how much I wanted to make her proud? I've been so alone my whole life, working towards nothing. having no one to seek approval from, having no one to find comfort in, having no one to trust. I hate myself for my first attempt, in which I tried to hang myself with my brothers belt. Hadn't it been for him, I may have been dead now. Now I have no clue how that may have affected him. How like a deadly disease, I spread my angst and pain onto him. To see mee with a foot between life and death. What could be more unfair?

I cry. I cry so much, I sometimes wonder if dehydration is possible through the shed of tears. You'd think I'd grow weary of doing so, but my eyes cant help but indulge in the act. If I thought I was disgusting as a youngling, I am for sure no revolting and repulsive. I let myself be manipulated by men, lured into bed, and used to for the pleasures ands disgusting desires of others. I seek merely a bit of affection, in hoped that it'll somewhat fill the void in my soul that I hope to repair. But I feel empty. and hollow. There's no turning back when I realize that what i feel is not love or affection. and men tend to forget what refusing and saying no means when they are deep into penetration. At first I had many panic attacks and convulsions, thinking back on how I had been similarly violated in my childhood. But it matters no more. It's like that saying of a 100 dollar bill, no matter how many times you wrinkle it, and step on it, it remains the same 100 dollar bill. What is unlawfully done to my body is no longer viable or important. It happens all the time. But nonetheless I continue to ache, cause I have no one or anything to turn to. Nothing to console me.

At this point, I am now ranting irrelevantly, but what brought me to wanting to attempt taking my life again was being threatened to lose somebody that I thought didn't care about me. I listened to my father, hundreds of miles away, cry on the phone and apologize for all his mistakes. Confess his sorrows and failures that have shaped him into the worthless person he now considers himself to be. He said goodbye to me, and promised me i'd continue my 'perfect' and 'happy' life just the same without his existence. and that just proved to me even more how ignorant some people really are are. I said nothing. But before he hung up, I let him know one thing: this was the last straw for me. If you kill yourself, I hope and pray I don't see you on the other side. Somehow, he changed the steering of the conversation, and I think he no longer intended to die after that. But i couldnt say the same for me. I now desired death more than anything. This was unfair. How could I continue living? How can I keep going on with my meaningless life pretending everythings okay? Like my own father hadnt called me moments before his desires to attempt suicide? So you see, I am far gone from being 'ok'. And I cannot attain the help that I seek anywhere. In a way it is relieving to be able to pour this out, anonymously, to people who wont pretend to care just cause its the social norm and 'moral' or right thing to do. I'm depressed. It's as simple as that. And I can accept that.

SirOats
Posts: 11
Joined: Mon Sep 24, 2018 7:53 pm

Re: hi

Postby SirOats » Sat May 18, 2019 10:53 am

Hey Ed,
Hang in there. You've unpacked your story well. I think you know that suicide will only exacerbate things. Your post didn't mention any therapy. I strongly encourage seeing a therapist or sticking with your current one. If we are ships, our mental health is our rudder. Repairing the rudder while sailing is foolishness; we need to get a maintenance team (ie, therapy) to repair the rudder while we stay in the wheel-house.
Prayers.


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