Hello. French 33yo man here. I came here 6 years ago to talk about my suicide attempt and find a better way to ctb. Today I want to vent a little bit.
I went to a very good psychiatric clinic for about a year when I was 30. I started having suicidal thoughts when I was a teenager and never really found good help before the clinic. People there (staff and other patients) helped me gather my thoughts and understand what was going on.
It started with my education. I lived with two big sisters (+9 and +5years) and my parents. My dad was often absent and very reserved. My mom was the head of the family and I received a strict education from her. She was kind and loving, and I wanted to do my best to make her proud.
My second parental figure was one of my sisters (5years older than me). She wanted to educate me the best she could and was even stricter than my mom.
When I did something wrong, my mom would spank me and my sister slap me.
My sister was too young to know what she was doing. She had been traumatized by our uncle who touched her ass and wanted me to never become like him. Somehow she made sure I would never want to touch a woman in my life.
I have a few memories of her slapping me in this context. When we were young, we used to bath together (the mother of my mom was vietnamese and we borrowed some of her culture). Everytime she would ask me to retract my foreskin and she would help me get clean. We had no issue with nudity and I find this kind of relationship healthy. But one day, when we were standing in front of each other, I just looked at her pussy for a second and then back at her face. I didn't think much of it, I was about 4 at the time. She glared at me and slapped me so hard I fell on the floor. I just didn't understand what I did wrong but from there started a belief I still live with the consequences today. Lesson learned : if I want to be the best person I can, I should never look at a woman. And it only applies in that way.
This idea grew fast in me. When I was around 6, I was watching a movie with my sister and her friend. At some point a woman was seen topless and I just stared at the wall afraid of my sister's reaction. Well, my sister thought I was staring at the TV and got a word from her. What shocked me is that her friend defended me, she said it was ok. In my head, I thought : it's ok to look, but if I want to do the best I can, I have to look away.
One day I had my schoolbag rubbing the bottom of my back, so much that I had a little scab. My mom scolded me kindly, saying that the day I would show my butt to a girl, I wouldn't want her to see a scar. I thought to myself, I would never do that, because I aim to be the best I can, and my sister teaches me how.
In a few years I've been able to fool myself, understanding that attirance was tolerated but not something good. And I was very proud of myself. I was the favorite of the family, the most well-behaved, always having the best scores in class. I had faith in my education and was always aiming for the top. The top being, never have sex? Probably.
Then started my adolescence. My mom killed herself when I was 12, and at that point I didn't think much of it. I was already suffering a lot from my inability to share my feelings, I would keep everything inside, never expressing myself.
I had a few crushes during my adolescence. And some of them were into me. I rejected them. I had no idea how to behave and felt so bad. It hurt everyday. I was doing my best at school, doing so much effort to be the best in class, but what I wanted the most was to hang out with my crush. But at that point I had no social skill and felt so insecure, the only thing I knew was that I was doing great at school and I believed that staying away from girls was making me a better person. My mind was a big mess (usual for a teenager) and I started to want to kill myself.
I started to lower the amount of effort at school. I had been studying so much mainly for my mom and she was gone. I was excelling at science but it wasn't what was important to me in life. I've seen so many people praise me. Telling me I had a fabulous future, that I could do anything. Well, all I wanted was to hang out with people I love. I was looking at other people laughing with each other and I thought, that is what I want. I don't value what I have as much as they do.
I went to university and dropped out 5 years in. I had almost no friends while there. I chose a cursus in pharmacy because I knew I could stay in school for many years without much effort there. My plan was to waste my time and live peacefully until I found it was time to ctb. At some point I got an internship at the hospital and I stole phenobarbital. I somehow managed to screw up and woke up after 10 days of coma.
After dropping out, I stayed alone in my apartment and lived more than 23h a day in my bed for about 4 years. Thanks to my inheritance, I had about 110K euros at that point. Meaningless when I repeated to myself I wanted to die everyday. I was cutting myself, slowly destroying the wall close to my bed, repeatedly destroying my furniture and computers. This is when I posted here for the first time 6 years ago.
One evening I took my antiemetics and waited for an hour. I had my N ready. I suffered from the antiemetics' side effects, I was really agitated, I felt my heart heavy and strange. I was terrified of death. I got angry that I was in this situation. I chose to call a friend I had since I was a teenager. She knew a little bit about my issues, she helped me before. She is like me for one thing: even if we didn't talk to each other for years, if we get back in touch, it's like we never separated. I told her about what was going on and she invited to live at her place for some time (she was in another city). I ended up staying for 2 months. She often said she accepted my choice and that the time I lived with her was like a long good-bye. At the end, she ended up calling my family (I met my friend because she was friend with my sister in the first place). She gave the keys of my apartment to my sister. My family took pictures of my devastated apartment. I lived with my dad for a while, then with my sister. After about two weeks, I've been placed in a psychiatric clinic. No one there has been able to help me, and they accepted to let me go at the condition to live with my other sister, at the other side of the country.
After a year, I went to a psychiatric hospital, as useless as every place I visited for my mental health before, and they sent me to a psychiatric clinic. A good one. A very good one. With every day activities that make a lot of sense and staff that felt really involved. I had the chance to regularly express myself in group therapy with very smart people, who always had relevant insight to share. My psychiatrist even gave lectures once a week about psychology to us, patients who were interested. The staff was so, so competent. We had a gym, a big yard with a lot of trees, even a place to play pétanque. It felt like everything was done to really help us patients get over our struggle in life. I stayed there 3 times for a total of 8 months without having to pay anything. It felt so undeserved and I am forever grateful.
Most of the time I was just killing time with the other patients. All of us who were young were there for the same reasons. Depression, suicidal tendency, sometimes bipolar or borderline, but all in all we all felt connected by the same pain. It is there that I really learned to express myself. I almost felt at home with people I understand and who understand me. I let myself have my first sex experiences there. Turns out my penis hurt for multiple reasons and I really feel discomfort whenever I am touched. Kissing and cuddles are the best though.
I've been abandoned by a few girls and it hurt a lot. I broke up with someone and it hurt a lot too. But that pain... that's what I was looking for my whole life. I was living unstable relationships and learned so much from it, about myself and others. That makes me happy. That hurts so much but it's nothing compared to the anxiety stopping me to live my life.
One day I called my friend again. She who betrayed me and gave my keys to my family. She was happy to hear about me again, and invited me at her place once more. I stayed for 6 weeks. She helped me find an apartment in the same city and here I live today, 5 minutes away from my best friend's house.
It has been a year. I met a girl at the Medical-Psychological Center and she has been my girlfriend for a month before she broke up with me. And I met a lot of people outside of a medical, psychological context. Normal people. None of them light a spark in their eyes when they see me. I'm an unemployed 33 years old man who suffers from depression, tried to kill himself and isn't any good at sex.
I do my best in terms of activity, which is not a lot after years of inactivity. I have to gather all my strength to sometimes do charity work. I help disabled people to socialize by playing board games with them. I work at a shelter. Sometimes I keep my friends' pets and water the plants when they travel.
I still live with my traumas. I still feel a lot of discomfort thinking about having a close relationship with someone even if that's what have a lot of value for me. I think my penis won't hurt next time but I still have a lot of apprehension when it comes to sex. Speaking of sex, even though I can rationalize things very quickly and well, my emotions don't follow my thoughts and I still feel so bad for not being good at sex, or whatever nonsense my emotions try to tell me. So much pressure for something I'd like to ignore.
I slowly teach myself that I have the right to have close relationships with people too. My best friend isn't interested in me that way. She is polyamorous. She's very open when it comes to it. I rationalize quickly and well. But what I feel doesn't follow my capacity of reasoning. I feel like close relationships are for other people, not for me.
Really, what I want is not to die. It's to feel free to have the relationships I want. Back in 2020, for a few days, my sister's life was in danger because of covid. She was at the hospital. During that moment, and only this time, I felt the weights on me disappear. I truly felt relieved. I love my sister. I know she loves me and only wanted to do what's best for me. She apologized when she learned about my situation. She told me she did everything wrong with me, and she realizes that now that she has a child. But my body, my anxiety reacted to the idea of losing her. My best friend says she understands, she stopped being depressed since her dad passed away. I want to be free of my sister's influence. She's not the little girl she was once, she tells me I can do what I want now. But a voice in my mind says no. My sister when she was 9 was right.
I went to a very good psychiatric clinic for about a year when I was 30. I started having suicidal thoughts when I was a teenager and never really found good help before the clinic. People there (staff and other patients) helped me gather my thoughts and understand what was going on.
It started with my education. I lived with two big sisters (+9 and +5years) and my parents. My dad was often absent and very reserved. My mom was the head of the family and I received a strict education from her. She was kind and loving, and I wanted to do my best to make her proud.
My second parental figure was one of my sisters (5years older than me). She wanted to educate me the best she could and was even stricter than my mom.
When I did something wrong, my mom would spank me and my sister slap me.
My sister was too young to know what she was doing. She had been traumatized by our uncle who touched her ass and wanted me to never become like him. Somehow she made sure I would never want to touch a woman in my life.
I have a few memories of her slapping me in this context. When we were young, we used to bath together (the mother of my mom was vietnamese and we borrowed some of her culture). Everytime she would ask me to retract my foreskin and she would help me get clean. We had no issue with nudity and I find this kind of relationship healthy. But one day, when we were standing in front of each other, I just looked at her pussy for a second and then back at her face. I didn't think much of it, I was about 4 at the time. She glared at me and slapped me so hard I fell on the floor. I just didn't understand what I did wrong but from there started a belief I still live with the consequences today. Lesson learned : if I want to be the best person I can, I should never look at a woman. And it only applies in that way.
This idea grew fast in me. When I was around 6, I was watching a movie with my sister and her friend. At some point a woman was seen topless and I just stared at the wall afraid of my sister's reaction. Well, my sister thought I was staring at the TV and got a word from her. What shocked me is that her friend defended me, she said it was ok. In my head, I thought : it's ok to look, but if I want to do the best I can, I have to look away.
One day I had my schoolbag rubbing the bottom of my back, so much that I had a little scab. My mom scolded me kindly, saying that the day I would show my butt to a girl, I wouldn't want her to see a scar. I thought to myself, I would never do that, because I aim to be the best I can, and my sister teaches me how.
In a few years I've been able to fool myself, understanding that attirance was tolerated but not something good. And I was very proud of myself. I was the favorite of the family, the most well-behaved, always having the best scores in class. I had faith in my education and was always aiming for the top. The top being, never have sex? Probably.
Then started my adolescence. My mom killed herself when I was 12, and at that point I didn't think much of it. I was already suffering a lot from my inability to share my feelings, I would keep everything inside, never expressing myself.
I had a few crushes during my adolescence. And some of them were into me. I rejected them. I had no idea how to behave and felt so bad. It hurt everyday. I was doing my best at school, doing so much effort to be the best in class, but what I wanted the most was to hang out with my crush. But at that point I had no social skill and felt so insecure, the only thing I knew was that I was doing great at school and I believed that staying away from girls was making me a better person. My mind was a big mess (usual for a teenager) and I started to want to kill myself.
I started to lower the amount of effort at school. I had been studying so much mainly for my mom and she was gone. I was excelling at science but it wasn't what was important to me in life. I've seen so many people praise me. Telling me I had a fabulous future, that I could do anything. Well, all I wanted was to hang out with people I love. I was looking at other people laughing with each other and I thought, that is what I want. I don't value what I have as much as they do.
I went to university and dropped out 5 years in. I had almost no friends while there. I chose a cursus in pharmacy because I knew I could stay in school for many years without much effort there. My plan was to waste my time and live peacefully until I found it was time to ctb. At some point I got an internship at the hospital and I stole phenobarbital. I somehow managed to screw up and woke up after 10 days of coma.
After dropping out, I stayed alone in my apartment and lived more than 23h a day in my bed for about 4 years. Thanks to my inheritance, I had about 110K euros at that point. Meaningless when I repeated to myself I wanted to die everyday. I was cutting myself, slowly destroying the wall close to my bed, repeatedly destroying my furniture and computers. This is when I posted here for the first time 6 years ago.
One evening I took my antiemetics and waited for an hour. I had my N ready. I suffered from the antiemetics' side effects, I was really agitated, I felt my heart heavy and strange. I was terrified of death. I got angry that I was in this situation. I chose to call a friend I had since I was a teenager. She knew a little bit about my issues, she helped me before. She is like me for one thing: even if we didn't talk to each other for years, if we get back in touch, it's like we never separated. I told her about what was going on and she invited to live at her place for some time (she was in another city). I ended up staying for 2 months. She often said she accepted my choice and that the time I lived with her was like a long good-bye. At the end, she ended up calling my family (I met my friend because she was friend with my sister in the first place). She gave the keys of my apartment to my sister. My family took pictures of my devastated apartment. I lived with my dad for a while, then with my sister. After about two weeks, I've been placed in a psychiatric clinic. No one there has been able to help me, and they accepted to let me go at the condition to live with my other sister, at the other side of the country.
After a year, I went to a psychiatric hospital, as useless as every place I visited for my mental health before, and they sent me to a psychiatric clinic. A good one. A very good one. With every day activities that make a lot of sense and staff that felt really involved. I had the chance to regularly express myself in group therapy with very smart people, who always had relevant insight to share. My psychiatrist even gave lectures once a week about psychology to us, patients who were interested. The staff was so, so competent. We had a gym, a big yard with a lot of trees, even a place to play pétanque. It felt like everything was done to really help us patients get over our struggle in life. I stayed there 3 times for a total of 8 months without having to pay anything. It felt so undeserved and I am forever grateful.
Most of the time I was just killing time with the other patients. All of us who were young were there for the same reasons. Depression, suicidal tendency, sometimes bipolar or borderline, but all in all we all felt connected by the same pain. It is there that I really learned to express myself. I almost felt at home with people I understand and who understand me. I let myself have my first sex experiences there. Turns out my penis hurt for multiple reasons and I really feel discomfort whenever I am touched. Kissing and cuddles are the best though.
I've been abandoned by a few girls and it hurt a lot. I broke up with someone and it hurt a lot too. But that pain... that's what I was looking for my whole life. I was living unstable relationships and learned so much from it, about myself and others. That makes me happy. That hurts so much but it's nothing compared to the anxiety stopping me to live my life.
One day I called my friend again. She who betrayed me and gave my keys to my family. She was happy to hear about me again, and invited me at her place once more. I stayed for 6 weeks. She helped me find an apartment in the same city and here I live today, 5 minutes away from my best friend's house.
It has been a year. I met a girl at the Medical-Psychological Center and she has been my girlfriend for a month before she broke up with me. And I met a lot of people outside of a medical, psychological context. Normal people. None of them light a spark in their eyes when they see me. I'm an unemployed 33 years old man who suffers from depression, tried to kill himself and isn't any good at sex.
I do my best in terms of activity, which is not a lot after years of inactivity. I have to gather all my strength to sometimes do charity work. I help disabled people to socialize by playing board games with them. I work at a shelter. Sometimes I keep my friends' pets and water the plants when they travel.
I still live with my traumas. I still feel a lot of discomfort thinking about having a close relationship with someone even if that's what have a lot of value for me. I think my penis won't hurt next time but I still have a lot of apprehension when it comes to sex. Speaking of sex, even though I can rationalize things very quickly and well, my emotions don't follow my thoughts and I still feel so bad for not being good at sex, or whatever nonsense my emotions try to tell me. So much pressure for something I'd like to ignore.
I slowly teach myself that I have the right to have close relationships with people too. My best friend isn't interested in me that way. She is polyamorous. She's very open when it comes to it. I rationalize quickly and well. But what I feel doesn't follow my capacity of reasoning. I feel like close relationships are for other people, not for me.
Really, what I want is not to die. It's to feel free to have the relationships I want. Back in 2020, for a few days, my sister's life was in danger because of covid. She was at the hospital. During that moment, and only this time, I felt the weights on me disappear. I truly felt relieved. I love my sister. I know she loves me and only wanted to do what's best for me. She apologized when she learned about my situation. She told me she did everything wrong with me, and she realizes that now that she has a child. But my body, my anxiety reacted to the idea of losing her. My best friend says she understands, she stopped being depressed since her dad passed away. I want to be free of my sister's influence. She's not the little girl she was once, she tells me I can do what I want now. But a voice in my mind says no. My sister when she was 9 was right.
