I can't stop hating myself and don't know why I'm alive (Part 2)

Discussion in 'Suicidal Thoughts and Feelings' started by Akai_Namida, Nov 9, 2015.

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  1. Akai_Namida

    Akai_Namida Member

    1999-00: I begin high school and develop my first crush, which naturally ends in rejection. This sets a precedent which occurs repeatedly over the next six years. I begin gaining more weight after noticing I've become somewhat pudgy despite going on a strict diet; my self- harm worsens.

    2001-2004: My depression deepens after a fellow cadet in ROTC puts his hands on me violently. After informing one of my instructors of the incident, I learn that no disciplinary action has been taken and the cadet is in fact promoted in rank while I am demoted, resulting in my quitting the class altogether. I begin asking my mother to let me go to therapy, and I confide in her that I have been cutting myself. She (an LPC, by the way), apologizes for being such a horrible mother and giving me a terrible life, making me feel guilty. She then informs me that if my self harm continues, she will not be putting me in therapy, but will have me committed instead. She no longer allows me to close my bedroom door. I confide in a friend at school about my problems, and he seems to be trustworthy until he informs my current crush that I have "mental problems". This rumor spreads around, resulting in any person in whom I become interested reacting by becoming openly cruel and hostile toward me. This continues until the day I graduate. In another incident, I find out that my biological father was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia, and that my mother has been "watching me" all of my life for signs of the same illness. I develop insomnia when I begin experiencing vivid, chronic nightmares which cause me to no longer be able to sleep in the dark (this persists to this day).

    2005: My mother finds and reads my diary, in which she finds two drafts of a suicide letter I have written. I am again threatened with being committed to an institution.

    2005: I move in with my adoptive father following a rather nasty fight with my mother, during which time she threatens to burn the house down and shoot herself. She slaps me in the face (so I'm told; I think I blocked it out) before trashing my bedroom after I leave.

    2005: My two best friends and I are traumatized when a frantic man stops us on the side of the road and begs to let us use a cell phone to call an ambulance. The garage door to his house is open and there is a woman lying on the floor beside an open car door. When the police and paramedics arrive, they inform the man that the woman is dead. The friend of mine who lent the man his phone is forced to give a statement to the police, and we spend the rest of the day more or less in silence. When I get home, I try to confide in my father my distress at what I saw, to which he just responds, "Okay" and leaves the room. I decide not to confide in him about anything else again.

    2006: I move into an apartment with my roommate from college. She is aware of my depression and does her best to be supportive until she begins dating a friend of mine. He moves in, and the friendship suffers between all of us. They talk about me behind my back, have sex on my bed, argue over who will pick me up from work (I don't drive and I was the only one bringing in any money) and then tell me to get over it when I voice my disgust. I begin a relationship with a person who cannot deal with my depression and self harm and ends up dumping me twice within several months. My roommates respond to my pain by turning up their tv so they don't hear me crying in the next room. Eventually, I leave and move back home, taking everything I paid for out of the apartment (which was almost all the furniture). I still have to work with the individual who dumped me on a daily basis.

    2007: I experience a small reprieve from my depression by spending a large amount of time out of the house with my brother, who no longer lives with my mother. My relationship with self- medication begins, and I notice what turns out to be the beginning stages of alcoholism in my brother.

    2008: My mother loses her job, and we lose our home of twelve years in the economic crash. My family is forced to move into a small apartment, and I struggle to find and maintain a job. A close mutual friend of my brother and myself takes his own life, and my depression resurfaces in full force. My brother has fully embraced his alcoholism. I regularly self-medicate with sleep medication and attempt to keep myself unconscious as many hours of the day as possible so I don't have to think about my pain.

    2008: I hear from and meet my biological father for the first time in my life. He and my biological uncle end up in town on my uncle's trucking route, and ask my mother to meet me. I hesitantly agree. I witness the extent of my father's ill health first- hand, though he is not unpleasant or threatening toward me or my mother. When I tell him that I have no plans to either get married or ever have children, he tells me he is disappointed in me and how I'm living my life. I never see or hear from him again after this.

    2008: My adoptive father and stepmother have another son. My brothers and sister (having been adopted in 2004) immediately notice the shift of affection from all of us (sometimes) to solely to the baby. At this point, I hardly interact with my adoptive father anyway, and had prepared myself for this very thing to occur, since I had already been written off as a "failure". My younger brother and sister only seem to take true offense, still being young and having to interact with my adoptive father on a regular basis. I feel powerless to help them feel better.

    Continued in next thread...
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