End of my rope

[mrtiedye]

I feel like my depression has once again reached the tipping point. My family knows that I go through cycles where I can't sleep at night. What most of them don't know is that I can't sleep because I lay in bed for hours, daydreaming about the day when I will finally have the courage to end it. My mind relives fantasies about jumping off buildings or shooting myself in the head or speeding into concrete walls.
Over and over I replay these fantasies in my head. I try my best to fall asleep so they will go away, but my brain just keeps exercising its control over me. I can't make them stop. Eventually, my body just gets so tired, I pass out, only to repeat the same thing again the next night. Lately, within the last year or two, it doesn't matter how exhausted I am when I lay down. I am guaranteed to lay awake in bed for hours daydreaming about dieing.
My days are filled with feelings of inadequacy and self loathing. I have developed one hell of a poker face because I don't think most of my family has guessed what is going on. Outside, I am laid back, easy going. Inside, I am struggling to find one damn reason to keep going. I am at the point now where I can't think of one reason to keep going, but I am still to chicken to end it.
Up until a couple years ago, my daughter was my reason for living. Within the last year or two, I have began to question whether she would be better off without my sad example as a father figure. While working at DirecTV, my depression began to once again strengthen its grip on me. I felt so useless that I stopped trying. Towards the end, I was pretty much daring them to fire me. I could barely summon the will to get out of the bed.
I spent over a year on unemployment. I spent most of that time trying to find something that would make me happy enough to squash this depression once and for all. It was not uncommon for me to go up to 36 hours without sleep. After over a year of soul searching, I came up empty handed.
Then, I made possibly the worst decision I have ever made. I let my sister talk me into moving in with her and taking a job with the most cruel person the world has ever known. For eight hours a day, I endured my boss constantly telling me how worthless I was. He treated me like I was a little kid, always correcting my speech and grammar. He questioned every move I made. We never had a single conversation the entire time I was there where he did not go out of his way to make me feel like a useless bag of crap.
And that was only for eight or so hours a day. When I got off work, I had the pleasure of coming home to my sister's non stop ranting and raving. Oops, I dropped the clothes hanger. Let me scream and cuss and shout at the top of my lungs for an hour or so. Oh my, the keyboard on my computer isn't responding fast enough. Time to slam it down and pitch a fit.
I eventually had more than I could take, and quit my job. I was finally free of my horrible boss, but my sister had no problem picking up the slack. She has become even more judgmental of not just me, but everyone and everything around her. She is the reason I found myself in CVS a month or so ago buying a bottle of Tylenol PM and a bottle of Aspirin.
That really sucks, because before I moved in with her, she was the one person in my family I felt like I could go to with my problems. Her solutions were completely useless to me, but at least I could get things off my chest on the rare occasion when she would let me get a word in.
We are currently living in a 3 bedroom apartment, and rent is over a thousand dollars a month. We split it down the middle because neither of us could afford it alone. I haven't worked in over a month and have no hope of finding a job. I have been looking, but so far, nothing. I have just enough money in my checking account to pay rent one more time. That leaves nothing for groceries, gas, or other bills.
I was about 10 years old the first time I tried to commit suicide. I don't remember really being depressed or anything, but I do remember drinking an entire bottle of cough syrup thinking that I would lay down to sleep and never wake up.
The second time came when I was around 15 years old. I set some stuff in a closet on fire and planned on sitting on the couch and burning up with the apartment. My mom and her roommate came in and smelled the smoke and put the fire out. If they hadn't of came in, I would have probably chickened out once the fire overtook the closet.
For the third time, I was around 17 years old. It was a half hearted attempt. I had a torch I bought when I was installing cable and I used it to set the underside of a couch on fire. I laid down on the couch with plans to let the fire consume me. I chickened out and put the fire out way before it got out of control.
The fourth and most recent time was just a couple of days ago. About a month ago, I bought a bottle of generic Tylenol PM and generic Aspirin. I stared at the bottles every night for several weeks, trying to work up the courage to take them. Finally, I took about half the bottle of Tylenol PM before I chickened out. Both bottles are currently sitting on my desk, and I continue to stare at them, night after night, trying to summon the courage to end it all.
I don't know where to go from here. I have tried prescription anti-depression medication. It took the edge off for a little while, but eventually stopped working. I am much to rational and intelligent to “put it in god's hands.” I have no job and no insurance, and even if I did, I seriously doubt there are any medical professionals that can offer any solutions that will actually work.
I don't want to feel like this. I am sick of it. I want to either get better or die. I'll take either option gladly. The past 20 some odd years (I am currently 34 years old) have shown me that getting better probably isn't in the cards. Although I might have days, weeks, or even months where I feel like I could live happily, these times last at most two or three months. I haven't had a single entire day where I felt like life was worth living in over a year. And obviously, I am too much of a coward to die by my own hands. I am at the end of my rope. I don't what to do.

[St8arrow]

I feel like my depression has once again reached the tipping point. My family knows that I go through cycles where I can't sleep at night. What most of them don't know is that I can't sleep because I lay in bed for hours, daydreaming about the day when I will finally have the courage to end it. My mind relives fantasies about jumping off buildings or shooting myself in the head or speeding into concrete walls.

Over and over I replay these fantasies in my head. I try my best to fall asleep so they will go away, but my brain just keeps exercising its control over me. I can't make them stop. Eventually, my body just gets so tired, I pass out, only to repeat the same thing again the next night. Lately, within the last year or two, it doesn't matter how exhausted I am when I lay down. I am guaranteed to lay awake in bed for hours daydreaming about dieing. My days are filled with feelings of inadequacy and self loathing.

I have developed one hell of a poker face because I don't think most of my family has guessed what is going on. Outside, I am laid back, easy going. Inside, I am struggling to find one damn reason to keep going. I am at the point now where I can't think of one reason to keep going, but I am still to chicken to end it.

From St8arrow:

Although you have had bad luck or bad reactions from neuroleptic medications, your situation demands some kind of medical help. Even if it is just a sleeping pill to get you some sleep at night. Next I would suggest a Cognitive Behavioral Therapist with a strongly developed sense of empathy.

Don't just take any Therapist that is suggested to you. Stand up for your right to choose exactly the type of Therapist that I have listed above. Even the act of standing up for yourself will prove beneficial to your overall good mental health. If they try to tell you to leave it in their hands, tell them that is exactly what you have done for a long period of time and nobody, but nobody, has been able to help you one iota.

Come back in here and let us know what happens. Don't look now but maybe, just maybe, a small amount of light is showing at the end of your long, long, long tunnel of darkness. Good luck and good skill to you.

From Mrtiedie

----- I don't want to feel like this. I am sick of it. I want to either get better or die. I'll take either option gladly. The past 20 some odd years (I am currently 34 years old) have shown me that getting better probably isn't in the cards. Although I might have days, weeks, or even months where I feel like I could live happily, these times last at most two or three months. I haven't had a single entire day where I felt like life was worth living in over a year. And obviously, I am too much of a coward to die by my own hands. I am at the end of my rope. I don't (know) what to do.

Well, the first thing I would suggest is to stop calling yourself a coward. Choosing to live rather than die is not the act of a coward. Our job is to find some area where you can see yourself as a success rather than a failure. Taking control over who you will tell your story to would qualify as a success. And one other thing, don't use that "Poker Face" with the Cognitive Behavioral Therapist. The best chance for him or her to help you is if you tell him or her the truth; --- just like you have done for us in your submission. It takes a lot of courage to admit to the problems that you are experiencing. I commend you for that courage.

[mrtiedye]

Thank you for your insight, St8arrow. Unfortunately, the reason it has taken me so long to reply is because I finally worked up the courage to take the other half of the sleeping pills and the entire bottle of aspirin. Even more unfortunate, I survived it. I spent a week in a regular hospital. When they finally got me stable, I was taken to a mental hospital where I stayed for a week and a half. Since I don't have insurance, they were eager to get me out of there. I have a weeks worth of wellbutrin they gave me at discharge and a prescription for more. The meds are helping a little bit, but I still have thoughts of suicide and a complete lack of self worth. They referred me to a out patient psychiatrist, but if he is anything like the one I had in the mental hospital, I don't expect much to change. While I was in the hospital, my sister told me she was going to get therapy as well, but that has yet to be seen. One day back home, and I am all ready searching the internet for a painless, guaranteed way to commit suicide.

[St8arrow]

from Mrtiedye


----- I don't want to feel like this. I am sick of it. I want to either get better or die. I'll take either option gladly.

From St8arrow

Fine, then let's take the option that gives you a chance to get better. I am not going to repeat myself in here. Look at my above submission and do exactly what I have told you to do. If one or more of my suggestions seems impossible for you to embrace, get back in here and tell me what the problem is.

I'm not trying to say that those problems will be simple but let's talk about them and see what we can do. For all you know some of the answers might turn out to be much simpler than you think.