- You are worthless
- You are unlikeable
- You will always be alone
- You are a failure
- You are boring
- You are hideous
- You are an idiot
- You have wasted your life
- You don’t deserve to ever be happy
- It’s too late for you to do anything about it
- Everyone would be better off if you were dead.
I’ve been feeling extremely down for the past couple of days. Someone who went to the same school as me and who is 2 years younger than me moved in to the house next door. I never really spoke to him when we were younger but we know who each other is. The other day, I was walking back from the bus stop and ran into him and he ended up talking to me as we walked back to where our houses are. He said something like “I think I’m living next door to you now. You still live there don’t you, with your mum?” and a bit later asked how old I am and what I’m doing. I don’t know whether it was intended to be malicious but I think it almost certainly was a jab at me. It made me feel upset but then is it really any surprise that people think I’m pathetic?
I often think the worst things possible about myself, I genuinely dislike and resent who I am but even so, I simply can’t handle criticism from other people about it. It is probably the main reason I avoid so many things. Every nasty thing people could say about me is true, so how I am supposed to handle that? It’s hard to know how to deal with being a loser. I’ve read things about dealing with low self esteem but they seem to rely on the assumption that the person reading them actually isn’t worthy of derision.
It has been a long time since I’ve felt this low and I am back to the point where I can’t see a future for myself. At least not one that I want to be a part of.
I can never answer honestly when he asks “How are you?” and I assume this is one of the rare occasions where an honest answer would actually be appreciated so I finally decided to write something down. I am tired and can’t really think of everything I want to say but I think this captures the essence of it. It should be a fun hour tomorrow 🙁
I feel very depressed every day. I don’t look forward to anything, it seems like there is always something to dread about the future, I’m always worrying about something that’s coming up. Life seems pointless, I can’t even do the most basic things like be in the same room as people. I’m scared of being around most people but I don’t know why. I haven’t made a proper meal at my house for the last two weeks, I’m too afraid that I will be trapped in the kitchen when there are people there and I don’t know what to say or how to act and I’m scared of them thinking I’m weird and saying things about me. It makes me feel even more worthless.
I can’t stop thinking about how I want to die. There is no other reason I can think of other than guilt about causing my family pain why I want to live. It occupies my mind for hours each day, I feel terribly guilty that I feel this way but I wish that I had died when I tried to kill myself.
A vicar’s daughter was so frightened of bullying by two teenage girls that she fell to her death from a window to escape their abuse
Verbal and psychological bullying can be just as hurtful and have as serious consequences as physical bullying 🙁
I’ve been sleeping terribly, up for days at a time (I know other people have it a lot worse but I am dead after 3 days) even after taking sleeping tablets. I’m coming off zopiclone now though, haven’t had any since that first night.. I can’t remember when it was, days have merged into one long mess. I can’t concentrate, I’m too hot, one of the only people in the world who I can talk to with relatively little anxiety has gone back home so I won’t get to see her again for ages.
The pressure to get a job is mounting and the whole process just fills me with a mixture of dread and sickness. My thoughts constantly revolve around killing myself, I doubt an hour goes by when I don’t think of it once. I almost started taking pills this morning (after being awake all night again) but if I want it to work I have to make preparations. I can’t risk failure, my life wouldn’t be worth living anyway if I survived, it’s lose/lose.
I hate myself, I disgust myself. I can’t bear to look at myself because I am so repulsive. I’m so wrapped up in my own world that I am impatient and snappy to my own family. My mum keeps asking what’s wrong but she doesn’t really want to know. She wants to fix things but nobody can do that, it’s not like when I was little and could count on her to get me out of things. Every time real life rears it’s ugly head, I fall to pieces. I’m simply not good enough in every possible way.
I don’t know what to do, some part of me must want to be here still otherwise I would have done it already. I wonder how long I can put off the inevitable crushing reality.
Triggering, I guess. Just like the rest of this blog.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I am obsessed with my own death. I eye up buildings and balconies wondering if they are high enough to provide a fatal drop. I keep looking at the fire escape on one of my university buildings and wondering if I could make it to the top before someone spotted me. The pills are still in my cupboard, the sheer volume of them is daunting though. I bought anti-emetics. I wrote down what times I’d need to take them in order to stop me puking the lethal ones up.
There’s no single event that is making me feel like this, it’s a chronic thing, not an acute crisis. I feel like the walking dead, it feels weird that I can walk about campus and talk about next year even when I half expect not to be here. When I’ve discussed these things with the crisis team in the past, they asked what stopped me from doing it. I told them I didn’t want to hurt my family but I’m not really sure if that’s true. Maybe it’s hugely selfish of me, to put them through that pain to end my own but when was the last time I did something purely for myself? Don’t I deserve to have my way for once? Do I owe them a lifetime of suffering?
It is futile seeking help for this, I know there are only a few outcomes. 1: The same thing as before, they ask me the same old shit and can’t comprehend how I feel and what it’s like to live like this and I end up with intrusive busybodies coming to my house for a few days. 2: They lock me up, that’d cause my family as much pain as if I did it and I don’t think I could take it. 3: They increase my meds and continue the status quo. I don’t think they really believe I am serious because I don’t cut myself and I haven’t taken any pills as far as they know. How can I sum up my entire life’s experience and answer the question “Why do you want to kill yourself?” I’ve written thousands of words on this blog, probably enough to fill a small book and that doesn’t even tell the full story. How can I, with my limited vocal expressive capabilities even start to explain it all?
Don’t read if you don’t want to hear about suicide
As for what is really stopping me, I don’t really know. I feel like I owe people an explanation but I don’t think I can do it justice. I have written a suicide note for my family but it doesn’t tell the full story. I don’t think I want them to know just how pathetic I really am. What about the few people I could vaguely call friends? I don’t want to leave them wondering but I don’t want them to know what a miserable excuse for a human I am. Should my secrets die with me, only visible to those few who read this site?
I notice on the news whenever someone dies prematurely, family and friends always describe them as full of life and “everyone liked him/her”. I don’t suppose it’d be much of a surprise to people if I went through with it. You could say “Well I always expected it to be honest, he never smiled and barely said a word to anyone. Nobody liked him or will even notice he’s gone”. You might think I’m exaggerating, but I’m really not. I’ve been here a week without people knowing I’d even come back one time. What a great loss to humanity I would be, a loner who does nothing but drain away the resources of everyone around him, emotional and material. A waste of opportunity, a waste of space and energy.
Due to the extremely long time it takes to get a GP appointment at university and the fact that the crisis team psych would only write me 2 weeks worth of AD script at a time, I had to miss a dose of Seroxat on Friday night. I felt extremely disoriented and not entirely with it on Saturday morning, it was like I was on autopilot. Words came out of my mouth but I had no control, my attention span was like a 2 year olds.
It occurred to me that I am essentially unable to function without these drugs now. My psychiatrist said I had become psychologically dependent on Effexor, I’m not sure how he worked that one out since I hated the stuff but I’m sure he knows what he’s talking about… In any case, I am a mess without them. I hate this feeling, that I am broken and only pharmaceuticals can hold me together and stop me from becoming a complete disaster. They’ve kept me from going over the edge so far but I don’t know how much longer I can stand it.
I know it’s bad, but I’ve been overdoing it with the zopiclone. It takes me ages to get to sleep without it and then its only a few hours. I hate walking around in a daze and then feeling like I’m going to pass out at about 4pm when it catches up with me.
The end of the university year is coming up, I have to go in and demonstrate the website that I made on Tuesday and I have an exam at the end of the month but after that I have done until September (assuming I don’t fail any modules). You might expect that I should be happy about this, pleased that I have finally achieved something worthwhile. Certainly if you read my posts a year ago, I am in a better position than I was back then, but I don’t feel anything
I was talking to an online friend who I’ve met a couple of times the other day and they wondered why I can’t ever be pleased with myself of congratulate myself for doing things that are challenging and that I wanted to achieve. I just can’t do it, but I can’t explain it properly either. I don’t think it’s logical to congratulate myself for doing something 99.999% of the population can do without blinking an eyelid, it’s dumb. I don’t pat myself on the back for getting out of bed in the morning, why should I deserve plaudits for being able to talk to someone?
Various mental health people and folks I’ve spoken to online say that I shouldn’t compare myself to others so much and that it’s pointless. To me that makes no sense though. In life, you are always compared to others. People can’t judge you in a vacuum, they can only get a sense of what you are like compared to other people. In any situation, social or otherwise, you are always being compared to others so why shouldn’t I worry about that?
I don’t walk around with a sign saying that I have a mental illness, nobody knows that walking into a room full of people makes me shake with fear or that I’ve seriously considered taking my own life on numerous occasions this year alone. They take it for granted that people can do those things, normal things easily. I have to strain and push myself to even be considered at the baseline of what a functional human can do, there’s no way I’m ever going to be a worthwhile friend, employee or anything else.
I’m sick and tired of being me. I hate myself because I am self centred, pathetic, utterly repulsive and probably manipulative even though I don’t mean to be. I don’t know whether to call it a day after I finish uni for the year. I don’t have much else to look forward too. I’d honestly rather die young and not know what a pathetic and miserable old man I’d become if I didn’t take things into my own hands.
It seems no matter what happens, I can’t be satisfied. I’ve had probably 3 days this year where I was briefly happy but within a day or even hours, I was already deconstructing what happened and discovering reasons to be sad again. It’s hard putting on a front for so long when you just want to die. I think that’s one reason I dislike being at home just lately, I have to put on a happy face and not let my mum know what’s going on in my head. She wants to help but cannot possibly understand or maybe she just doesn’t want to accept that her son (and by extension, she) isn’t perfect.
I knew things wouldn’t stay good forever. I’ve spent the last few weeks reletavely free of depression, serious depression anyway. I don’t even know how to describe how I feel right now, resigned to defeat doesn’t seem to cut it. I’m just passing time, heading nowhere and putting off the inevitable. Maybe it’s because the uni year is ending soon and I have to come back home and parents are on at me to get a job. I hate feeling that pressure, the pressure of real life. It’s over a year since I managed to buy myself some time and became a mental health case. Since then I’ve had an excuse to avoid real life and responsibility. I know one day that I will have no more excuses and no more putting things off, I can’t take it I am just not cut out for living. The feeling of wanting to slip away is overpowering. I’m indulging my suicidal feelings by watching a documentary about people who jumped from the golden gate bridge that I have seen 3 times before. I wanted to go there and jump for long time but now I don’t have such grand plans.
I never told the doctors about the plans I have to overdose, I told them about how I wanted to jump from the bridge near my house and how I went there but there is a barrier now. I have the pills, I made the final preperations today. I don’t know if or when I’ll take them, the main thing holding me back up to now is that a person I know from the Internet who I care about a lot is coming up to the final exams before she graduates university and I can’t bring myself to cause her distress before she finishes. It sounds stupid now I have written it. I’m a complete fuck up at life in every possible way. I don’t want to be me any more, I want to be gone and forgotten. Nothing I do now can change things for the better. I’m too far gone and I’ve screwed things up too much. The mental health services have nothing they can do to make things better, crisis team can’t do anything, what can anyone possibly do? Nobody can turn the clock back or change my personality or the way my brain works.
I’m tired of living and wasting this life, I don’t deserve it and I don’t want it.
I don’t think I can deal with it, it’s not the acutely crushing lows, it’s how blandly hopeless my life has become. I live in the past, mourning lost opportunities and reliving over and over the pain of being cast out. Sometimes the realization that things I ruminate about are 5 or even 10 years past hits me like a hammer blow. Why can’t I move on? Why must I be trapped forever in this adolescent mindset of rejection and alienation? Everyone else has moved on, lived life, but I am still the same. I fear I always will be and this is no way to live. I don’t want to play out 40 years of disconsolate loserdom.
I dream of joyously taking my own life. I think it’s safe to say I have romanticised the idea of suicide; unfortunately I have nothing else to realisticly hope for but a sweet release from this anhedonia.
I don’t know if it’s the venlafaxine but I feel incredibly nauseous. I feel even more sick when I think about myself and my life instead of distracting myself from things. It’s going to be hard if I have to keep distracted in order to stop feeling suicidal.
I have to go back and meet the damn crisis team tomorrow and I feel stressed about it already, all I want to do is sleep tomorrow, and forever really. I don’t want to be me, it’s too depressing.
There’s no future for me, not one I want to live. The same old things haunt me and bother me every day, things that can’t be resolved. I feel like I want to scream but of course such outbursts of emotion aren’t for me. There’s no way I can explain it to the stupid crisis team, some people who I will probably never see again. It probably seems easy for me to complain, goodness knows I do enough of it on this site, but in real life it’s incredibly hard for me.
I can’t just come out and say that I want to die and I feel ill when I see myself in the mirror and knowing I will always be alone and unloved makes me want to cry. I couldn’t look them in the eye after saying that. I don’t know what they could possibly do or say, not to mention my flatmates could overhear.
It’s not a crisis, there’s no urgency here, just a tiredness and realisation that I’m going to have a shit life (by my own ridiculous standards, I know other people have things much harder and a billion times more problems than me). I don’t know how much longer I can deal with it.