Discussion in 'Suicidal Thoughts and Feelings' started by Zola, Sep 7, 2009.
As a newby (do they use that term anymore?), I've noticed that most members keep it brief in their postings. I would think that that's the long way around, in getting known.
So I'd like to start a thread devoted to long posts, posts that give the full version of each member's struggle with suicide but also going back to what their life was like before they felt the need to do away with themselves.
Hello Zola! I do not seem to see your story lol. But that's okay. For my part, I've been suicidal since I was about ten, before I even knew what the word meant. I just didn't want to live in a world in which I wasn't allowed to express my humanity.
I had been stunted by years of verbal and physical abuse, being blamed for everything that went wrong, while my younger sisters got almost a free pass. I, the oldest of four, was always a bad example, a do-nothing, a failure. I was talented at drawing and painting, but it was never supported as something I could do in my future. And then there was the fact that I am female and like girls and that was something my good Christian family would never accept. (From a young age, I would see pride rallies on tv and my parents would laugh and call the marchers freaks. I remember spending hours in my room crying, or sitting in silence. I cried a lot as a child).
So I remember spending a lot of time inside my own head, in my beautiful fantasies, and not much time outside of it. I was pretty distant to everyone in my family and at school, so I had no close friends, I wasn't really close to anybody. I didn't even think about what would happen when high school was over. I had no desires or dreams to do anything. My parents decided everything for me already; law school, a nice, upstanding African-American only boyfriend, a house in the suburbs, children, dogs, the whole deal. By the time I was 16 I was basically a zombie that went to school and went straight home to go to bed.
I did get accepted into college though and I decided to major in English against my parents' wishes. (Well there isn't any pre-law so I could do whatever I pleased, I supposed). I told my parents about my girlfriend and they decided not to support me anymore for school or anything. I wasn't upset at all, I knew that this would happen, and I never felt more free in my entire life. I also felt extremely depressed because my largest fear came true; that my parents couldn't and would never love me for the person I really am. I wandered around for a month going to classes in halloween costumes and makeup, not saying anything to anyone, singing weird songs and writing all over my body. Then one day, my mind snapped like a little twig and I started to cut my wrists rather deeply. I was taken to a hospital, and then to a mental hospital for two weeks.
Things have been pretty calm for about another year. I decided to be myself and be happy, and apply for the art program at my college. I was accepted and overjoyed. My first semester was fine, but the second made me feel really terrible. I had no friends, my family didnt care anymore, I spent most of my time alone with all these extremely painful thoughts. I felt like the school was preventing me from expressing myself the way I wanted, my style was against the systems they were teaching, and I hated it. It felt like my parents were telling me what to do with my mind and my hands again. But I didn't have time in the day to do my own work, so I stopped sleeping.
I wrote and drew a tremendous amount and got two hours of sleep a day, and I was rapidly becoming more and more psychotic. I was going to throw myself off a bridge but I decided falling alongside it would be just fine, but I only hurt my legs instead of the desired result. I climbed out of the hole and limped all the way to the office of my favorite teacher and I sang and banged my head on the wall, and all sorts of wonderful psychotic things. Another trip to the funny farm was in order.
These days I'm doing better, mostly because of my therapist, my good friends, my gf, SF, and my art, and I stopped giving a crap about everything else. Life is so much less painful this way.
I could write a novel and it wouldn’t be enough. How many would care enough to read it?
What is your story Zola?
I think many people keep it a little shorter because sometimes others shy away from reading the longer posts. Not because they don't care, because they do. It can just be difficult for some to stick with reading through a lengthy post. As the poster, sometimes it makes them feel too vulnerable to have everything out in the open at once and in one place.
What is your story Zola?[/QUOTE]
Well, I was raised in a family of six, being the eldest of four brothers. We had everything we could want, within reason. My father was an engineer in electronics and my mother was a housewife and artist. We lived in a beautiful suburb of New York and grew up without pain. Then Dad's business went under and we tried to make do.
I went to the University of Chicago as an undergraduate, and then Columbia Law School in New York. Law was not my passion. But my head is reasonably plastic so I imbibed the law and went on to two prestigious positions.
Then in 1977 I decided I'd had enough, so my wife and I came down to rural Florida and rented a house. She agreed on moving out of New York.
Things started to go wrong in college. I spent almost all my time in my room (in a large apartment I shared with 3 others.) reading and not going to classes. (At Chicago this is permitted.) I'm sure I was very depressed. But I managed to stick it through for four years.
Then law school. I was only there to please my father (though I couldn't see it that way for many years after.) It took a lot more studying than college. But I did it, and graduated cum laude. The push that law school required didn't leave me time for being depressed or anxious. The one thing I was really good at was studying and taking exams, so I got through.
The next five years, in a judge's chambers and on Wall Street, gave me the strong impression of being on Mars. I just couldn't relate to what they were doing, though it was extremely well paid. So I jumped ship, and my wife and I came down south. I guess I'm typed out just now, so I'll cut this in the middle and patch on an ending when I'm able to.
Thanks for listening!
Yes, Gentlelady, you are right. Many people are not ready to put their entire story in one post. I couldn't do it myself, as you'll see when you read my story. But this isn't a requirement, something everyone must do. But it is an opt-in for those who feel ready. And will give all members a better idea of who they're dealing with. I certainly didnot intend to coax members to write when it's just not the time yet. So for those who are considering posting long stories about their lives, think deeply if it's time yet.
You can read my diary if u like?