Entirely sick of life

Discussion in 'Help Me! I Need to Talk to Someone.' started by Lowest, Apr 2, 2016.

?

Who would care?

  1. No one

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  1. Lowest

    Lowest New Member

    My name is Jake. I'm 22, and have experienced ever deepening forms of depression for the last 10 years or so. My father was a dirt-poor, bi-polar, alcoholic weed farmer who raised me alone, far out of town since I was 4, but he was as good a father as he could be under the circumstances. He was my only support base for most of my life. He died of cancer when I was 18, 4 years ago, while I was out at sea on a fishing job. Shortly afterward my girlfriend of 2 years broke up with me for being "too sad and angry all the time".
    3 years ago, the only other constant in my life, my grandmother, died of a serious infection after a botched routine operation by an incompetent doctor.
    Around the same time, my auntie Jude died of a sudden and unexpected heart attack.
    2 weeks before last Christmas one of the people I've known since I was born died of a forced heroin overdose. Her killer went free because the police wouldn't put the effort into a murder investigation for an ex-junkie's death.
    6 years ago my close friend, Clancy - 14 at the time, was a passenger in a 2-person motorbike crash. Clancy's older brother was driving, and currently survives him from a wheelchair. Clancy died on impact.
    Just last week my friend Clifford, who I've known for a few years, bought a new motorbike. On his first test-ride he rode it into a tree and, just like Clancy, died on impact.

    I'm currently half a country away from where I grew up and my entire (yet tiny) support base, attempting to study something I'm not sure I'm even interested in while re-assimilating myself into society after ~4 years of hiding from society because of my father's death after ~14 years of hiding from society because of my father's life.
    I have extreme social anxiety and find it hard to meet new people or feel confident in any situation, ever. I have lost many friends because I isolate myself, go off the radar and simply don't reach out to them. I smoke copious amounts of weed from breakfast til blackout every day, and drink as often and as much as is physically and financially possible. I've developed a strange form of insomnia where sometimes I can be awake for 2-3 days or more before I even feel a need to lay down or even blink. Most of my body's muscles are indefinitely taught and strung-out, I'm constantly on edge, my brain is constantly conjuring situations to worry about that haven't and may not even come to pass alongside the ones that have and will. This translates to my body, my back and neck have been so tightly wound for so long I can't sit, stand, walk or lay down without a shooting pain that I've come to enjoy, and I smoke so many cigarettes an outsider might think I'm trying to beat my father's record for youngest lung cancer death in Australia; which, for all I know, I am. I never actually know what the fuck is going on in my head at any given moment, which is legitimately the scariest part of all of this.

    I spend most of every day sabotaging myself in some way or another, physically and/or mentally, but I haven't directly self-harmed in a few years. I started at 13-14, slowly progressed to fairly large and permanent cuts on hidden parts of my body, but stopped at around 17-18, replacing it in majority with drug abuse.
    Last week when I got the news about my mate hitting a tree on his bike I really fucking lost it. It was just enough. It's such a fucking slap in the face, losing everyone I care about one by one, year after year, and still hoping next year will be different. I feel foolish for even trying to continue some days.
    I found the closest bottlo and bought a bag of cheap wine. I'd finished most of a 4L sack of wine when I stumbled into the kitchen and grabbed my ridiculously sharp set of knives.
    It started with a simple thought, one I hadn't had in years, but I couldn't resist this time for some reason. It wasn't long before I was rubbing a large knife across my skin, drowning in the memory and allure of my old habit. It didn't take long before I was lining it up against my thigh and opening myself up again. I ended up covering most of my left upper leg with fresh wounds by the time I drank myself to sleep. I've cut again twice since this incident, and I'm almost certain this is going to happen again soon.

    I don't even know what to say, I think about killing myself daily since my father died, but recently it's gone from daily to hourly to every second thought, to a constant fact that I should do it ASAP. I've spent a huge chunk of my life since trying to bring myself back from this rut, but I can't seem to go a year without someone close to me dying for some reason or another, far before their time - or abandoning/forgetting me entirely. Now for the first time in my life I've got some semblance of a plan for my future in the works, and I've basically given up on maintaining it because I'm still as depressed as I've ever been, if not more. I feel like there is no light at the end of this tunnel. I spend most of the hours in every single fucking day distracted and spaced out, literally brainstorming reasons not to kill myself today. And I'm starting to come up very, very blank. I don't know what to expect coming to this site. I was literally just sitting there with chrome open, and typed "I want to kill myself", and a link to here came up. I think maybe some part of me knows if I continue on this path for much longer, one day very soon I won't be able to brainstorm a reason. I'm fairly drunk right now which seems to be the only time I can be honest with myself or anyone else, so I figured I would at least put this post up and see what comes of it. Probably better than what I'm thinking of doing instead.

    How long can Jake keep holding this crushing weight before he proactively seeks his own death in reliable places? Tune in next time to find out...

    Here's to last chances. *raises glass*
     
  2. normaljoe

    normaljoe Well-Known Member

    Stop drinking and smoking first and foremost. They are depressants and will not help you in the long run. You are trying to better yourself in studies that is amazing that through all of this you are still improving. That should make you proud. Most schools or community outreach programs offer free group grief counseling look into them. Dealing woth grief is unfortunately not anything i really know about. But there aee resources out there for you. Please find them and get clean. You have been through alot and you are still here, you have such great determination.
     
  3. ThePhantomLady

    ThePhantomLady Safety and Support SF Supporter

    I am terribly sorry for all that you have been put through

    Would you consider getting yourself some help with all of this? I think by now you need some proper care for both your suicidal thoughts as well as your addictions. Could you call a crisis number and let them help you?
    I really think you deserve for someone to take some care of you so you can move on and get better in a proper way.

    Like Joe said, the alcohol and weed are depressants, I know it seems like it helps but it really doesn't. I don't know much about drugs to be honest but I know about alcohol and the thing is that when you drink it strengthens any emotion you are having... and in your case that is a really, really bad thing.

    Please get yourself some help. You deserve it, and I promise you it can get better. I know it doesn't seem like it, but it can.
     
  4. Nope

    Nope Member

    I am deeply and truly sorry for your losses.

    I'm going to start by saying that I understand, but as someone who understands, I'm unreliable and hard to get ahold of.

    I'm 27 years old. My dad made lower-middle-class-money, my mom didn't work, because religion/men are supposed to make the money, the women stay home and clean, blahblah. My mom pretty much 'raised' me, in the sense that she was incredibly emotionally unstable, accepted abuse from my dad because religion husbandwife relationship blahblah. She basically would come to me for marriage advice, friendship, and moral support since I was 7, when my grandmother died of cancer. So my mo pulled me from ballet, stopped functioning, stopped paying my father with the sex she owed him as a wife for religious blahblah, he started drinking heavily and would just stand at my door. Nightly. Naked. Breathing loudly. Don't know if he ever came in while I was unconscious, but his dad was a pedophile, and I found that out in the fun way. Anyway, I stayed hidden and silent in my room most of the time, and got hit rarely, during times when I'd talk-back like my mother.

    She would deal with the stress by cleaning, or shopping. All day every day. I mkind of detest cleaning now. I hate the sound of dishes being washed-my roommates probably are tired of me. I became an alcoholic at 15, started smoking around then, too. I smoked for ten years and then quit-now I have a cigarette once a year, or whenever I'm somewhere where I spent a lot of time with friends who died, and a smoker happens to be around that I can bum one off of. Six people close to me died in the last five years. Death is an absolutely disgusting fact of life.

    My grandpa, my favorite relative, died after his 2nd heart attack last year. He lived in another state, but I'm grateful that i got to visit him about once a year every year. He was a genuinely good person, and he adopted my mom and her sisters when their abusive dad left them. He also raised my second-cousins, who my first-cousin abandoned. Most of my other family members, aside from my sister and brother, are either nuts or don't remember me. I didn't get out much. The kindest friend I've ever had is now one of my roommates-she got me into working at the Renaissance Faire, where I met people who felt like family to me. They felt, honestly, like the closest-knit family I've ever had. My brother, sister, and I would stay quietly in our rooms and really didn't hang out or talk after puberty. The person I bonded the most strongly with just died around November, I think, but it still feels like last week, every week. Now the others and I have a very distant, almost acquaintance-like relationship. I have some friends on the internet now, and a kid, the poor thing. She's 4. Her dad is bipolar, doesn't pay child support, and usually doesn't show for visitation. When he does, he leaves early. So now I'm raising this kid into this disappointing life. (condoms do not, in fact, work. Get a second AND third form of birth control.) I've lived in the same county for almost all my life. It's warm here, and I appreciate that. I have ADD, I was diagnosed around 12~ish? Pretty sure I've got aspergers but I don't really care to find out. I find it interesting, I'm just sure it costs time, money, and unwanted attention to do so. I blame my extreme social anxiety on the Asperger's, but it could be the fear-of-being-hit, I was raped at 18, every person I've ever dated has felt me up in my sleep, stolen/sold my things, cheated, or just plain old told me outright ridiculous lies. I don't do relationships anymore because I know there is so much of me that needs improvement before I can ask someone else in.

    I actually love my job-I work in freight. No job has been this kind to me, mainly because they haven't fired me due to the ADD. My job has forced me to quit weed, and now that I don't smoke it anymore, I save a shitload of money per month and get bored instead of lethargic, which at the very least pushes me to entertain myself. For the sleep thing, my only advice is to masturbate. Boredly. Allow yourself to fall asleep in the middle of it. Seriously, it helped me. It is worth a try for you. Smoke when you want-but not indoors. Make it less comfortable, less accessible. Smoke cigaretes you don't like, especially if they cost less. Someone telling you what to do online isn't going to help as much as your body going oh-it's cold out, it tastes nasty, etc. Make punishing your body an unpleasant experience. Always keep a cigarette in your car in case of a death of a buddy, always keep half of one in your car to smoke instead of committing suicide.

    If it is alcohol vs. suicide-pick alcohol. But make sure you are doing a brainless, enjoyable activity. If you are drinking you are either watching a great cartoon/anime, playing a video game, or around people in a setting where you won't drive, or endanger or be mean to others. (the being mean part is because your self-esteem needs to be rebuilt.) If you walk around treating yourself like poison, your situation will not better as fast as it would otherwise.

    Those people aren't forgetting you. They're struggling with similar things.

    Some of them, it is very likely, used to struggle with things and now things are a little better and they don't feel the need to talk to you about it so much. This is not a bad thing. It means, that for someone who once struggled like you did, things are improving for them.

    Just as thingss are able to improve for you. You have felt a moment of happiness, even if it was just looking at a frog once. Keep reminding yourself that even if you only hold out for five years, or possibly less, that feeling of happiness in some size can happen again.

    I often realize that I feel stuck now, because I have this kid I don't want, this kid that nobody wants, and my siblings are trying to better themselves too, so they won't help me. Nobody helps me except for the roommates now, who tolerate me living here. I pay rent, I pay my own things-but they watch my kid for free while I'm at work. If they left me, I wouldn't have money for a sitter. My sitter that I pay on mondays to give them a break takes a third of my income. Literally. For one day a fucking week. I make 'too much' for food stamps, and there's juuuust enough money for the kid to eat well. For gas to get to and from work. For car insurance so I don't get more bills or jail, for a $5 a month payment to the debt collector for my useless college so they don't ruin my credit and make us homeless (again). I subsist off of vitamins, ramen, and the very, very occasional alcoholic drink while the kid's asleep. I can feel that they don't want me here. One roommate, just knows I'm a shadow of the confident person I once was. She saw the rape change me, she saw the kid change me. She saw everything change me. I try not to talk to her now. One roommate, because she hates my kid. I hate my kid-but I hate the EXISTENCE, the guilt and the shreds of love and dignity that tell me not to dump her in foster care to live with a new pedophile and his loving wife every week and subsist wholly off of frozen corndogs. It is not my kid's fault for being born, but I think, I can pay for her stuff. I can seem normal with medication (Concerta is a lifesaver for anxiety. I swear by it. It helps you to actually DO things, like a normal person.)If I can raise her until I'm 40 without beating her to death or dying in bed next to her-I'm doing SOMETHING. Find something that needs you. Volunteer to hold crack-babies in a hospital. But I can tell you that you can WEAN yourself off of the drugs. Less and less. Cut off weed, it's not helping much anyway. Cigarettes are for stress, booze helps you focus on the tv (watch NOTHING depressing).

    I got to this site the same way as you. You aren't alone at all. I just tell myself, just until I'm 40. Just until she can have her chance at trying. And when that time comes, I will or won't have a new purpose. But if I see a way to improve my life, I will jump at it. And if I feel any shred of happiness, I will remind myself that that shread of happiness occured AFTER my suicide attempt. The last shred of happiness I felt was when I was on my Concerta (I was previously prescribed and saved one pill for years) just two weeks ago. I cleaned my room. (and the anxiety just wasn't there. My heart was still racing, but I didn't feel the threat of shame or a state of emergency while cleaning it.) Chemically, I learned that I need help. Maybe you do, too. And as much as I dislike myself for knowing that I need it, I know that it makes life tolerable. Allow yourself to wean off the weed first, and eventually the other things. Make yourself do things for you. Don't want to go for a run? Tighten your belt and swim with your fucking clothes on. Parts of life suck, but make yourself lower some inhibitions. Allow yourself to not buy weed, allow yourself to try new shit. Eat only candy for a week. Eat only vegetables for a week. It's all better than death.

    *raises a children's waterbottle with a little rum in it*
     
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