Failed Suicide Attempt

#1
I still resent the fact that I didn’t manage to do it successfully. I still wish I’d succeeded. I’m not allowed to admit that to anyone (except maybe my therapist - although I haven’t). Because the fact is no matter how hard I try - how hard I work and how much I love my family - I’ve never felt like I belong. And let’s face it, if I haven’t worked it out (even vaguely) by 35 then it’s here to stay, isn’t it. I’m embarrassed that it didn’t work. And I’m mortified about the damage I caused to everyone else. I didn’t even know I was capable of that. Genuinely. But I still wish I’d succeeded.


I don’t believe that I’m a particularly good mother. I don’t think anyone does really. But I do believe my beautiful daughter would be better with another family, which is probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to admit. I know for a fact that she deserves better than what we can give her. And that hurts like no pain I’ve ever felt before. No pain I ever knew existed.


So where do I go from here? I don’t feel grateful to be alive - I feel disappointed and shame that I failed. So that’s now something else to heap on top of the worthlessness and self-loathing that I felt before I <method edit>. How am I supposed to carry on with that even bigger weight, considering I wasn’t coping with it before? Instead it’s just a giant elephant in the room all the time, reminding me every second of every day that I couldn’t even get that right. Jesus.


I always thought I wanted the stability of a family and a relationship, but actually that’s not what they offer at all. Not in my experience anyway. They offer confusion and challenges and complications - so the opposite of stability really. Plus falling hard for complicated broken people (as we all undeniably are) comes with a very challenging set of criteria. I love my husband, that’s why I married him, but he drains me. ‘Marriage is a sacrifice’ and fuck me if I’ve ever heard a more true statement than that.


I’m not sure exactly what I’m trying to say here. I’m not sure it even matters. I just wish more than anything else that we could all be a bit more honest with each other and be open about what’s in store. And yes, I probably would’ve run for the hills had I actually known, but then I wouldn’t have ended up meeting my soul mate and sharing this god-awful rollercoaster with someone I adore. Our daughter wouldn’t be here. I just wish I knew that however hard things get, they can always get a damn heap harder. I’m still not sure if I’d have bought the ticket had I known, but as least it wouldn’t have come as such a fucking shock. And when the shit really hits the fan and you end up in a hospital cubicle <method indicator>maybe it’s a little easier to understand how you got there.


I never imagined my life like this. I imagined gentle successes, companionship, celebrations, stability. What I got is constant struggle, anxiety and more loneliness and isolation than I thought was possible as part of a loving (but dysfunctional) family. The most ironic piece of the whole puzzle is that our amazing daughter, the one thing we actually got right (somehow), will forever remain the reason that I need to at least try and stick around. Because even having a bad mother around is worse that being that kid who’s parent committed suicide. And hurting her or even making her life harder with my selfishness, my lack of stamina, is not something I could entertain. So there you have it. What a fucking ridiculous prison I’ve created for myself. That we’ve all created for ourselves. And that’s with hundreds of hours and thousands of pounds spent on therapy, in my case at least. It’s no wonder mental health is such a fucking unpredictable precarious minefield. And is it making us better? I mean honestly, is it fixing anything? Is it making us happier? Because I’m in bed at 10am on a Tuesday feeling more broken than I thought was possible, with a man-size box of Kleenex and ice cream in the fridge and all I can think about is the <mod> in my office and the bottle of whisky in the drinks cabinet. Oh, and the number of my drug dealer that I’ve promised myself I would delete about a thousand times. And yes, I’ve already messaged him. My daughter will be home in about 7 hours. Who the fuck am I?!
 
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lifetalkz

Well-Known Member
#2
Hello Deep Cuts-It goes without saying that you can take or leave what I'm about to share in this post. I'm just another human being with an opinion (like billions of others). I immediately felt some connection to your story because my father was under treatment for chronic depression and anger disruption throughout all of the years of my childhood. In the end he pumped all of his rage and pain into me-my first suicide attempt was at 13. There were two more attempts over the next two decades. For more than two decades I can describe my life easily with one word-miserable! My entire future was tainted by my fathers presence in my life-but as I look back now, I know that it was really his deception that gutted me to the core. He never told the truth about anything because the whole, real truth was devastating. He got my mother pregnant on their second date. They barely knew one another, then suddenly they were planning to be married! Marriage was how they solved the problem they had caused-the problem of a life that no one wanted or ever saw coming. I'm convinced to this day that every time my mother looked at me, all she could think about was the single worst mistake she ever made in her life...having sex with a virtual stranger in the backseat of his car on their second date.

But here's the catch-while the look in my mother's eyes always told the truth about her feelings towards me her mouth never did. Just like my father, she lied almost constantly throughout all of the years of my childhood. She lied about her feelings towards me. She lied about the fact that no one ever wanted me in the first place. The end result was that I never really knew what was real in life when I grew up. I only trusted people who were not trustworthy-I only felt comfortable around people who could never look me straight in the eyes. I felt most at ease and calm in situations that were completely chaotic. I did not belong in the so-called "real world". I was like a fish out of water everywhere I went, flapping around and desperately gasping for air. I'm convinced that the my disaster of a childhood would have been substantially less damaging if there had been a lot more honesty floating around the house instead of lies. You ended your post with a question-Who the fuck am I? My answer to that question is, you're a person who has the power to make a very bad situation much better by telling the honest truth to your daughter and your husband about your feelings, or lack of feelings towards them.

You will hand their dignity back to them when you openly acknowledge the raw truth about the dire situation that you are all in. There might be a happy ending at some point down the line, but it will most likely be a while. You're not well and recovery might take a very long time. You cannot be there for them in the way that you would like to be. It's painful and difficult to know that your mother really can't love you in anyway that will ever feel good. But if you acknowledged that you're sick and your daughter doesn't deserve to be treated coldly with no care or love, the way that you treat her-you will change her future so that hopefully she will not live a life like your life, that is full of pain and self-hate. Obviously, you need professional help to improve the quality of your life-I hope and pray that you get that help. But perpetuating lies today to protect the feelings of others in the future is a losing game. It might seem like the right thing to do in the short term, but in the long term, it's just not fair.

In closing, I would like to add that suicidal depression is note an incurable disease. You can move on from the situation that you're in now and feel much better about yourself in the future. The situation is not hopeless! But you need to work on yourself for a while. Sometimes we get lost inside of the expectations of others in our lives to the point that we lose ourselves. Perhaps that has happened in your life-I don't know. But I do know that complete recovery from chronic pervasive depression is possible. I'm living proof! I'm so sorry that you're suffering and feeling so poorly. Please get help! You deserve it. I wish you the best of luck-LT
 

MarvelFan

Vanity of Vanities
#3
I still resent the fact that I didn’t manage to do it successfully. I still wish I’d succeeded. I’m not allowed to admit that to anyone (except maybe my therapist - although I haven’t). Because the fact is no matter how hard I try - how hard I work and how much I love my family - I’ve never felt like I belong. And let’s face it, if I haven’t worked it out (even vaguely) by 35 then it’s here to stay, isn’t it. I’m embarrassed that it didn’t work. And I’m mortified about the damage I caused to everyone else. I didn’t even know I was capable of that. Genuinely. But I still wish I’d succeeded.


I don’t believe that I’m a particularly good mother. I don’t think anyone does really. But I do believe my beautiful daughter would be better with another family, which is probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to admit. I know for a fact that she deserves better than what we can give her. And that hurts like no pain I’ve ever felt before. No pain I ever knew existed.


So where do I go from here? I don’t feel grateful to be alive - I feel disappointed and shame that I failed. So that’s now something else to heap on top of the worthlessness and self-loathing that I felt before I <method edit>. How am I supposed to carry on with that even bigger weight, considering I wasn’t coping with it before? Instead it’s just a giant elephant in the room all the time, reminding me every second of every day that I couldn’t even get that right. Jesus.


I always thought I wanted the stability of a family and a relationship, but actually that’s not what they offer at all. Not in my experience anyway. They offer confusion and challenges and complications - so the opposite of stability really. Plus falling hard for complicated broken people (as we all undeniably are) comes with a very challenging set of criteria. I love my husband, that’s why I married him, but he drains me. ‘Marriage is a sacrifice’ and fuck me if I’ve ever heard a more true statement than that.


I’m not sure exactly what I’m trying to say here. I’m not sure it even matters. I just wish more than anything else that we could all be a bit more honest with each other and be open about what’s in store. And yes, I probably would’ve run for the hills had I actually known, but then I wouldn’t have ended up meeting my soul mate and sharing this god-awful rollercoaster with someone I adore. Our daughter wouldn’t be here. I just wish I knew that however hard things get, they can always get a damn heap harder. I’m still not sure if I’d have bought the ticket had I known, but as least it wouldn’t have come as such a fucking shock. And when the shit really hits the fan and you end up in a hospital cubicle <method indicator>maybe it’s a little easier to understand how you got there.


I never imagined my life like this. I imagined gentle successes, companionship, celebrations, stability. What I got is constant struggle, anxiety and more loneliness and isolation than I thought was possible as part of a loving (but dysfunctional) family. The most ironic piece of the whole puzzle is that our amazing daughter, the one thing we actually got right (somehow), will forever remain the reason that I need to at least try and stick around. Because even having a bad mother around is worse that being that kid who’s parent committed suicide. And hurting her or even making her life harder with my selfishness, my lack of stamina, is not something I could entertain. So there you have it. What a fucking ridiculous prison I’ve created for myself. That we’ve all created for ourselves. And that’s with hundreds of hours and thousands of pounds spent on therapy, in my case at least. It’s no wonder mental health is such a fucking unpredictable precarious minefield. And is it making us better? I mean honestly, is it fixing anything? Is it making us happier? Because I’m in bed at 10am on a Tuesday feeling more broken than I thought was possible, with a man-size box of Kleenex and ice cream in the fridge and all I can think about is the <mod> in my office and the bottle of whisky in the drinks cabinet. Oh, and the number of my drug dealer that I’ve promised myself I would delete about a thousand times. And yes, I’ve already messaged him. My daughter will be home in about 7 hours. Who the fuck am I?!
Deep_Cuts,

You answered your own comment by saying that it is better to have your own real mother full of all her problems then for your child to learn that her mother killed herself and had no mother at all.

You are mother and mother is God in the eyes of a child and if mother kills herself what does that tell the child about life and God.

I wish you healing and I hope for your child that she is not exposed to anything she should not be exposed to. Love can heal all things.
 

Lightsout

Well-Known Member
#4
I still resent the fact that I didn’t manage to do it successfully. I still wish I’d succeeded. I’m not allowed to admit that to anyone (except maybe my therapist - although I haven’t). Because the fact is no matter how hard I try - how hard I work and how much I love my family - I’ve never felt like I belong. And let’s face it, if I haven’t worked it out (even vaguely) by 35 then it’s here to stay, isn’t it. I’m embarrassed that it didn’t work. And I’m mortified about the damage I caused to everyone else. I didn’t even know I was capable of that. Genuinely. But I still wish I’d succeeded.


I don’t believe that I’m a particularly good mother. I don’t think anyone does really. But I do believe my beautiful daughter would be better with another family, which is probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to admit. I know for a fact that she deserves better than what we can give her. And that hurts like no pain I’ve ever felt before. No pain I ever knew existed.


So where do I go from here? I don’t feel grateful to be alive - I feel disappointed and shame that I failed. So that’s now something else to heap on top of the worthlessness and self-loathing that I felt before I <method edit>. How am I supposed to carry on with that even bigger weight, considering I wasn’t coping with it before? Instead it’s just a giant elephant in the room all the time, reminding me every second of every day that I couldn’t even get that right. Jesus.


I always thought I wanted the stability of a family and a relationship, but actually that’s not what they offer at all. Not in my experience anyway. They offer confusion and challenges and complications - so the opposite of stability really. Plus falling hard for complicated broken people (as we all undeniably are) comes with a very challenging set of criteria. I love my husband, that’s why I married him, but he drains me. ‘Marriage is a sacrifice’ and fuck me if I’ve ever heard a more true statement than that.


I’m not sure exactly what I’m trying to say here. I’m not sure it even matters. I just wish more than anything else that we could all be a bit more honest with each other and be open about what’s in store. And yes, I probably would’ve run for the hills had I actually known, but then I wouldn’t have ended up meeting my soul mate and sharing this god-awful rollercoaster with someone I adore. Our daughter wouldn’t be here. I just wish I knew that however hard things get, they can always get a damn heap harder. I’m still not sure if I’d have bought the ticket had I known, but as least it wouldn’t have come as such a fucking shock. And when the shit really hits the fan and you end up in a hospital cubicle <method indicator>maybe it’s a little easier to understand how you got there.


I never imagined my life like this. I imagined gentle successes, companionship, celebrations, stability. What I got is constant struggle, anxiety and more loneliness and isolation than I thought was possible as part of a loving (but dysfunctional) family. The most ironic piece of the whole puzzle is that our amazing daughter, the one thing we actually got right (somehow), will forever remain the reason that I need to at least try and stick around. Because even having a bad mother around is worse that being that kid who’s parent committed suicide. And hurting her or even making her life harder with my selfishness, my lack of stamina, is not something I could entertain. So there you have it. What a fucking ridiculous prison I’ve created for myself. That we’ve all created for ourselves. And that’s with hundreds of hours and thousands of pounds spent on therapy, in my case at least. It’s no wonder mental health is such a fucking unpredictable precarious minefield. And is it making us better? I mean honestly, is it fixing anything? Is it making us happier? Because I’m in bed at 10am on a Tuesday feeling more broken than I thought was possible, with a man-size box of Kleenex and ice cream in the fridge and all I can think about is the <mod> in my office and the bottle of whisky in the drinks cabinet. Oh, and the number of my drug dealer that I’ve promised myself I would delete about a thousand times. And yes, I’ve already messaged him. My daughter will be home in about 7 hours. Who the fuck am I?!
I felt the same way, probably the only thing that caused me to stick around is my child. I dont really feel that way, but maybe its just parent instinct.

And you are right, having bad parents, even the one who got drunk often is still much better than parent committed suicide.
 
#5
Hi.
I am sorry to hear you are feeling so bad.just adding the flip side of the coin.
I lost my husband and soul mate due to a stroke.we had been together for a very long time and have a beautiful son aged 9.
When he died my life fell apart,I tried so hard to keep things together but couldn't. I have had several attempts followed by hospital admissions to keep me safe.I have just come out of hospital today after 3 weeks after my most recent attempt.
3 weeks ago ,I was taken to court and my child was taken into care.As a mum,it is the most devastating thing to happen.i feel totally lost,broken and alone.
My son is amazing and is coping well but when I rang him to ask if he had everything, he said no! The only thing I want and need is you he told me.The love that we have for each other is a strong bond and even though our life was not perfect he was happy.I guess what I am trying to say is please appreciate your family,you will mean the world to her.The genuine love and care from a mum is priceless.I am glad that I did not die because of the pain i would caused my boy.he would forever think that he was never important enough for me to stay around.I feel that I have lost everything.I imagine that he will be in care for 5 months - I might not even get him back for Christmas and if I did,he would be the best present ever.please keep hold of what you have because one day it will be gone.
I still feel very suicidal and really don't know how I am going to get through this.
Sending much love and hope things improve for you soon.xx
 

lifetalkz

Well-Known Member
#6
Hi.
I am sorry to hear you are feeling so bad.just adding the flip side of the coin.
I lost my husband and soul mate due to a stroke.we had been together for a very long time and have a beautiful son aged 9.
When he died my life fell apart,I tried so hard to keep things together but couldn't. I have had several attempts followed by hospital admissions to keep me safe.I have just come out of hospital today after 3 weeks after my most recent attempt.
3 weeks ago ,I was taken to court and my child was taken into care.As a mum,it is the most devastating thing to happen.i feel totally lost,broken and alone.
My son is amazing and is coping well but when I rang him to ask if he had everything, he said no! The only thing I want and need is you he told me.The love that we have for each other is a strong bond and even though our life was not perfect he was happy.I guess what I am trying to say is please appreciate your family,you will mean the world to her.The genuine love and care from a mum is priceless.I am glad that I did not die because of the pain i would caused my boy.he would forever think that he was never important enough for me to stay around.I feel that I have lost everything.I imagine that he will be in care for 5 months - I might not even get him back for Christmas and if I did,he would be the best present ever.please keep hold of what you have because one day it will be gone.
I still feel very suicidal and really don't know how I am going to get through this.
Sending much love and hope things improve for you soon.xx
LF-You seem like such a strong, but sadly broken soul! I am praying for you now, praying for your strength and well-being. What you've gone through is heart-wrenching! When tragedy strikes, it brings us to our knees, doesn't it? But still we must go one-not just for those who love us, but also for ourselves...so that we can continue to pursuit our hopes and dreams which we hold so dear. Your faith has been shaken, but never forget the strength that is hidden inside of you, just waiting for you to retrieve it! The whole world waits at your door as well as your beautiful son! You will make all of the difference in his life, help him make some sense of the tragedy of his fathers death-by showing him what true strength looks like! God bless you this day and every day! LT
 

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