dragonofenvy
Warlock
- Oct 8, 2023
- 781
I am 25 years old. I have had clinical levels of depression since I was 5 years old. I first planned suicide at age 8, during a hunting trip, when I wondered what might happen if I put the shotgun against my head and pulled the trigger. At around age 11 or 12 I started "hanging" myself by tying my blanket really tightly around my neck so that I couldn't breathe for a few seconds, seeing if I could will myself to actually trying hanging myself. I never did. I wish I had. At 14 I had the idea to shoot myself in front of my mother but never took steps to carry it out.
It's plain to tell that this wasn't a normal, happy childhood. Most 8 year old kids are not contemplating suicide as far as I'm aware. So something, or many somethings had to have happened to bring that child to that point. I won't go into gory details, but let's just say that when I administered and Adverse Childhood Experience (ACE) questionnaire there were a lot more than I was expecting. My main coping strategy seems to be repression. Unfortunately, lately that repression hasn't been working so well.
There's more, but I'm not here to trauma dump. I could write page after page but it wouldn't matter. The only thing you need to know is that I would continue to be depressed throughout the rest of my life. I have been in the mental health system for more years than I have not been. I have been to many therapists, psychologists, and was partially hospitalized at 17, and am going to be again in 2 weeks. So for those who might say to seek out help, well, it looks like I did, didn't I?
I have done quite well for myself despite the circumstances. I live alone, though have difficulties taking care of myself. While financially stressed it is manageable, at least for now. I work as a delivery driver which isn't that bad.
Despite this, I sit here and wonder: What exactly am I living for? I can't find an answer to that. Each day I struggle to wake up. I do my job not out of passion, but as a means to not be homeless. I make just enough for needs but won't ever make enough for freedom. I don't want anything, there's nothing to want. Nothing excites me. I don't enjoy anything anymore. I just wake up, and wait for the day to end. Sure I might try to distract myself but most of my time is spent dissociating. In fact I've been doing it quite a bit while writing this. It's the only small pleasure I have left but it's not enough.
There's no goal, no reason. There's nothing to live for. I can't reach a higher potential than this. This is it. This is my life. I'm too cowardly to end it so I just sit and wait for the day to end so that I can wait for the day to end tomorrow. I am waiting to die.
Everything I did… for this. To be alone. To not have wants. To not have enjoyment. Little bits of pleasantries here and there to trick me into thinking it's okay just to poison me further. I don't have anything to look forward to and I feel so alone. I am alone. There's nobody out there for someone like me. Nobody will come to save me. I can't and won't feel anything towards another person Why do I have to wake up? Why do I have to keep existing? I just want to feel nothing. I don't even want to go to heaven I just want nothing. I wish I had never existed or at the very least my mom had killed me. At least my death would have been a tragedy and now it's for nothing. All the shit I had to fucking survive for nothing. Why does having trauma have to fuck you over this badly?
Yet I'm responsible for it despite not being at fault. Although that doesn't everyone from blaming me all the same. It's funny hearing the lectures from people who are well-adjusted and normal. It's easy to talk when you've never had to experience it.
I wish I could feel the serenity I felt during my last suicide attempt. I would do anything to fade away slowly like I had been back then.
It's plain to tell that this wasn't a normal, happy childhood. Most 8 year old kids are not contemplating suicide as far as I'm aware. So something, or many somethings had to have happened to bring that child to that point. I won't go into gory details, but let's just say that when I administered and Adverse Childhood Experience (ACE) questionnaire there were a lot more than I was expecting. My main coping strategy seems to be repression. Unfortunately, lately that repression hasn't been working so well.
If you must know my mother has tried to kill me one three occasions because she couldn't control her anger, among other things. At school I was an outcast, placed in special education as I was autistic. At that school I would experience - to put it diplomatically - unwanted sexual contact. Of course, being a 12 year old boy I didn't fully understand what was happening. No child can. They're not supposed to have anything close to that experience.
There's more, but I'm not here to trauma dump. I could write page after page but it wouldn't matter. The only thing you need to know is that I would continue to be depressed throughout the rest of my life. I have been in the mental health system for more years than I have not been. I have been to many therapists, psychologists, and was partially hospitalized at 17, and am going to be again in 2 weeks. So for those who might say to seek out help, well, it looks like I did, didn't I?
I have done quite well for myself despite the circumstances. I live alone, though have difficulties taking care of myself. While financially stressed it is manageable, at least for now. I work as a delivery driver which isn't that bad.
Despite this, I sit here and wonder: What exactly am I living for? I can't find an answer to that. Each day I struggle to wake up. I do my job not out of passion, but as a means to not be homeless. I make just enough for needs but won't ever make enough for freedom. I don't want anything, there's nothing to want. Nothing excites me. I don't enjoy anything anymore. I just wake up, and wait for the day to end. Sure I might try to distract myself but most of my time is spent dissociating. In fact I've been doing it quite a bit while writing this. It's the only small pleasure I have left but it's not enough.
There's no goal, no reason. There's nothing to live for. I can't reach a higher potential than this. This is it. This is my life. I'm too cowardly to end it so I just sit and wait for the day to end so that I can wait for the day to end tomorrow. I am waiting to die.
Everything I did… for this. To be alone. To not have wants. To not have enjoyment. Little bits of pleasantries here and there to trick me into thinking it's okay just to poison me further. I don't have anything to look forward to and I feel so alone. I am alone. There's nobody out there for someone like me. Nobody will come to save me. I can't and won't feel anything towards another person Why do I have to wake up? Why do I have to keep existing? I just want to feel nothing. I don't even want to go to heaven I just want nothing. I wish I had never existed or at the very least my mom had killed me. At least my death would have been a tragedy and now it's for nothing. All the shit I had to fucking survive for nothing. Why does having trauma have to fuck you over this badly?
Yet I'm responsible for it despite not being at fault. Although that doesn't everyone from blaming me all the same. It's funny hearing the lectures from people who are well-adjusted and normal. It's easy to talk when you've never had to experience it.
I wish I could feel the serenity I felt during my last suicide attempt. I would do anything to fade away slowly like I had been back then.
