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

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

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  1. Akai_Namida

    Akai_Namida Member

    I'm 29 years old and I can't stop hating myself. I don't know why I continue down this path of self- loathing, but what I can say is that it is psychologically crippling me, and literally killing me. I don't know how to stop it. It's all I've ever known, constantly berating myself and being berated. It has affected every aspect of my life. I can see the evidence of it in every facet of my existence, but I don't know how to or don't feel that I can change anything. At all.

    I know this post is most likely going to be taxing or appear self- centered to anyone who might want to read it. For that I'm sorry. But my reason for doing this is because I know that I am sick. I know that going untreated is making me worse. But it's very hard for me to get my thoughts in order so that I can accurately explain what is going on, so I need to break it down into a very itemized list so that I can (A). make things very clear and concise as to why I feel the things I do, and (B). so that I can hopefully, within this list, see for myself the real origin of how all this started so that I can help myself. If you don't want to have anything to do with this, I suggest you navigate away from the page now, and I'm sorry for the length and having wasted your time.

    Basically what I am doing is making a list of the different traumas, external and internal, that I have suffered during the course of my life at the time that they occurred. I am also, unfortunately, seeking confirmation that these traumas are just that: valid traumas that would have affected anyone, and not just something a spoiled little girl couldn't let go of.

    1986: I'm born. I'm told that this in itself can be a traumatic experience, but I'm not necessarily listing it as one so much as conveying the information.

    1988: My mother remarries; I am adopted by her new husband. My younger brother is born. Again, only conveying the information for contextual purposes.

    1990-91: I am sent to daycare for the first time. My first real trauma occurs when I observe the teachers striking other children, screaming at them and punishing them. I am subjected to my first victimization by other children:

    a. I am made fun of like most new children are by other students, and cannot understand why.

    b. I manage to make a single friend, but this person in turn begins harassing me in the same vain as the other children from time to time. I cling to this person because I don't want to be left alone.

    c. When my "friend" is not present, I am victimized more harshly by other children. I am at one point trapped inside a tunnel by several much larger kids (they were probably 11 or 12 years old; let me remind you, I am about 4) and continually harassed until I am brought to tears. The teachers punish me for telling on the other kids, so I never mention it again, not even to my parents.

    d. I am called ugly by the other children, and the teachers respond to this by listing my flaws ("Well, if you didn't wear those headbands all the time...": That is literally what I heard from one woman as I stood there crying. Let me go ahead and state that this facility was shut down years ago, thankfully).

    e. I begin seeing myself as ugly and, when I am at home, stare at myself in the mirror. I begin fantasizing about self- mutilation, thinking that in doing so, I would be improving my appearance. I begin spending all of my spare time in my room, alone, not even wanting to play with my younger brother. I think this is when my loner nature begins to develop.

    1991-92: I begin school, and things seem to more or less to become "normal", except that I am in the same class as my "friend" from daycare. She continues to belittle me on a regular basis, but I just tend to swallow it.

    1992: I experience death for the first time when my adoptive great- grandmother passes away.

    1992: I am informed by my mother that I am adopted, and that my biological father did not want to be a parent. My family moves for the first time just before I begin first grade. At my new daycare program, I am once again victimized repeatedly by the other children.

    1993-4: In second grade, a fellow classmate begins touching me inappropriately, usually in front of the rest of the class and the teacher. No one seems to notice, not even my teacher. For a long time, I say nothing, then casually mention it to my mother. She doesn't seem to react, but I eventually no longer see the student at school. I don't know if any actions were taken, or if this was a coincidence.

    1993: My family moves a second time; my adoptive father is at home less and less until my mother becomes pregnant; she is forced to work three jobs whilst he stays at home with my brother and I.

    1994: My mother gives birth to my baby brother; my family moves for a third time back to my original hometown, and the abuse suffered from my "friend" resumes.

    1996: My parents divorce, and my mother and brothers move out yet again. My adoptive father's interest in his children declines after losing a custody battle. He will not help my mother to care for us outside of his visitation schedule unless he is given financial compensation; as a result, I am forced to begin caring for my brothers while my mother works several jobs to feed us. I experience suicidal ideation for the first time, and am regularly a victim of depression.

    1997: I lay eyes on my maternal grandfather for the first time after the death of my great aunt, but am informed after asking why he will not say hello back to me that he has disowned my mother and her children; I am told that the reason my biological father has never contacted me is because he attempted to force my mother to miscarry me by striking her stomach repeatedly with a chair. I am also informed that I look exactly like him.

    1998: My depression worsens, and my "friend" responds by informing me that God doesn't like depressed people, and I will likely go to hell if I keep it up. She tells me her family dislikes me due to my depression, and that I am not a real "Christian". My relationship with self harm begins; eventually my "friend" discards me for another girl and flaunts the fact in front of me.

    1998: My adoptive father informs me that he is getting remarried to a woman I have met only once previously; the ceremony takes place without myself or my brothers present, and she and her daughter seem to just show up in my father's house one day. She is not unkind, but I am nonetheless uncomfortable with the sudden change. I become responsible for caring for my new stepsister as well as my younger brothers while our parents are at work.

    Continued in next thread...
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