This week may be the last chance I have SuicideWatch

This isn't spam or anything please just read

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This may be long so I'll put the Tl;DR up here:

TL;DR : I am trapped in a “perfect prison “ basically it seems I have an average life, but in realty I don’t. I have nothing that the average or even lower class person has, and there is no way for me to actually get what I want in my situation which may last indefinitely. I NEED your help, believe it or not I have no other options, absolute NONE. If you could I hope and pray that you can donate here . I may not deserve it for all I know, but if there's anything yo could do, this is the answer. I don’t wish to come off as rude but I need to be straight forward and assertive because this is the only chance I got, in a week from now, I don't when or if I ever will get another chance si this is literally my once in a lifetime chance to escape from here and at least live a somewhat “ normal “ lifestyle. Please you who are reading this, you are my only hope, I will not get lucky enough to do this again please help me, I need to be free.

~ Summarized: Before I start, I am now about to post this all that was written below was in a text document that took a long time to make ( you will see why) so if things seems inconsistent it's because I need to take the chance now and cannot wait, I may not be able to respond to comments shortly, so when I get the chance I will (all questions ( i hope) will be answered at some pint in the text below, pleas read all of it, thank you ):

I have never been happy, I was born into a " family " with the most f**ked up situation and scenario. I grew up w/ a single caretaker, my other parent has been gone since I was very little, they only have one sibling and both of there parents are dead. They would falsely accuse me of stealing things, when in reality they would forget or misplace them, I was thrown chairs and papers, pens, tables, silverware, electrical plugs etc. in grade school because of bad grads (I was emotional abused, told I was a mistake so I never had any motivation or encouragement). When they used to have friends, and when they would meet me, my caretaker would act very kind and polite, like the sweetest person who know, but as soon as they where gone, I was emotionally and physically abused, I was told to never speak about there actions, otherwise I would revive even worse punishment. In middle school ( 7th grade i believe ), they fell into massive debt and went bankrupt so we had to move in with my aunt temporarily, these times were some of the most miserable times in my life. Their " house " was in the middle of nowhere, and was more like a large shack/ shed, Only 1 bathroom, 1 kitchen / living room combo, and a bedroom w/ a walk in closet. Their house was absolutely disgusting, mold on every ceiling and walls, the place was rampant with spider, ants, flies, cockroaches and centipedes. Yet even though there were few neighbors, they were all druggies, and gunshots and violent screaming were not uncommon to hear a few times a week. My Aunt was an alcoholic and would abuse prescription drugs to get a high or something, they also used to hoard some items and stash them in the kitchen, they would never clean their dishes (that was my job there) and they would keeps garbage bags on the floor in piles until all of them were full, this led to the place smelling gross, and literally like garbage. The bathroom had the same problems, only their was no hot water, and only the tub worked not the shower, and their hair would be everywhere (they had this condition were they pulled out their hair strands, so I would find them in food, on the floor, sink, towels, clothes etc.) Their soap was dirty, like if the bar soap had been dropped on the dust collected floor so many times but they don't wash it, they would be pieces of hair, dirt, and lint stuck on the soap, so it was useless to even try to wash your hands. My place to sleep was in the walk in closet, filled with weird, hoarded items also, I got a sore neck, back, arm, something every night do to me sleeping on the cracked tiles with only a unclean, unwashed thin bed sheet for a blanket, while my caretaker got a couch for a bed above the ground, I've always been treated like a burden, even now I still am so that hasn't changed.

I remember my Aunt and caretaker constantly fighting, and then they would each take it out on me, my Aunt was and is even worse and more abusing then my caretaker, even my caretaker would have to stop her from go too far on me, but that does not accuse my caretakers behavior in any case. I was absolutely miserable the whole time, my Aunt never had kids so I had no cousins, she was defiantly crazy though as in she would sleep naked on a chewed and clawed up old mattress with her dogs and cats (the shedding even made the place worse, it felt toxic to even breathe because I could feel lint, and fur and dirty particles being inhaled, and could feel the mold being inhaled in my lungs and throat when i slept too, I had to start breathing from my mouth cause my nose would so clogged from blood, and mucus, and hair would always be in my mouth).

Eventually it got even enough for my caretaker, so we moved back to my original state, but in a much different area, this happened my starting freshman year in high school. We moved into a very small condo, pretty much the same size as my aunts, but in a much better neighborhood. My caretaker put me in online school from freshman to junior year. I was forbidden to leave the house at any time, and they started a work form home job. This conflicted with my online school needs as we only have one computer (using it now to type) and I ended up failing my junior year, because I was only aloud to use the computer an hour per day ( normal work would need about 4 hours a day). They would lie and say I was lazy and a trouble maker, I was suppose to redo it, bu then out of frustration, I was forcefully dropped out out school. The events leading up to that included me being manipulated in ,multiple ways, lied to, betrayed, harmed, nearly starved, etc. by them, and yet I am entirely dependent on them, which is what I wish not to be. I am yelled at on a day to day basis about not getting a job, yet we have no car, and I am not aloud to leave the house at any time, so I have to deal with their irrational mentally unstable harmful mind. I speak no words to them, yet I am always yelled and screamed at every day, and pushed hit, punched, and I do nothing back. The food I've eaten since we moved here was dollar food / candy, i am am sure I am malnourished, while they go and get fast food, they never let me eat it. We have no microwave, and the refrigerator is unplugged to " save money ", so any food here gets spoiled quickly, and I haven't eaten a hot meal since I was at my Aunts house, ( were it was unappetizing anyway due to the gross hygiene of them). They got me a bank account and credit / debit card, only to use it for they're own purpose so they don't have to pay debt, any left over money they do have they waste it on drinks, or on the casino. And then this whole cycle just goes on and and on, like groundhog day or the twilight zone, and if I even try to reason with them, I am inherently wrong and then punished, abuse, called worthless, and then they guilt trip me by threaten me, holding my emotion hostage by saying if I don't do what they'll say, they will commit suicide then I will never even have a roof over my head. I could maybe understand if they went through some sort of trauma, but from what I've seen and heard, and witnessing they're sister, I believe they are genuinely crazy, and probably mentally ill. This whole cycle that's has gone on for for seemingly eternity as took a toll on my health, mentally and physically, I wish I could get help somehow. Even just little things upset still, like how I never got to celebrate ant of my birthday with anyone, or even be acknowledged, or holidays, Easter etc, they were are treated like a normal day, yelling chaos, broken tables and chairs, you get the point.

I have no one to go too, and no one to tell, except you who are reading. I am of legal adult age now, and I have a plan to get out of here. You see, a couple weeks ago my caretaker lost my credit/debit card, I was blamed for stealing and hiding it (and of course assaulted), but I really didn't have it, however I handle all the online and physical mail that we get (and the bills ), since they reordered a credit card, I have been patiently waiting for it, in the mean time I have been doing my own personal research whenever I got the chance, browsing reddit subreddits on legal advice, searching for local help and laws, watching YouTube tutorials on how to handle money, and looking at goggle maps to visual map out the town I'm in and see where the local or nearest hotel/motel is, where trains are, all of this. I have eventually came up with a foolproof and entirely legal plan, as well as being efficient, and since I happen to have retrieved the card on Tuesday, and activated it online, I have been compiling text documents and secret journal entries hidden within folders on the computer. I could make an entire book of the pages and paragraphs I wrote and reflecting on over the years, such as this one, but because I am on a time limit, and need to make this a detailed summary, I have skipped of MANY very important parts of what has happened to me, so many weird, bad, and unlucky things that I had to skip for the sake of getting a message across to you guys. I have no other income and I hate to beg, but I need to take the chance I have to say it, I created a GoFundMe , and I NEED your help, I literally can not get money another way, theirs no way. I just need enough to get a motel room for at least one night ( I have never slept in a full bed before or even in a room of my own, or even with a TV! I also need to shower badly), and get new clothes (only have a few shirts and two pairs of pants, all have moth holes in them and are ragged and dirty), I also need food, specifically cans that I can warm, and finally I need to get a hair cut (my hair is just as ragged and unkempt and long, extremely long and dirty). Just enough to get this done in one - two days, then I will go to the authorities. I plan to get GED, go to community college and get a degree in law, and just be a functioning member in society and contribute and help, maybe even start a family later on if I get situated and live a more comfortable lifestyle, that way my kids will not have to suffer and I can give them enjoyment, since my childhood had none. I know it sounds like I'm begging and this whole thing may sound sketchy, but please at least share this story I need to get out of here , and have no hope, besides those who donate.

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Explanation: Okay, so as you may tell I was in a hurry and also a little excited to type the summary, I really hope I can get out here, looking back though I can see some things I need to touch on:

Your not face book verified? - yes I know, all the popular social media websites and outlets our password blocked on the browser, so I can not access them, and from my knowledge you need a photo for Facebook which brings me to:

Wheres' your proof, send a photograph! - I never owned a phone (never allowed and too expensive I was always and still am told), and I don't have a video camera, and I have a camera, just one of the disposable ones, maybe If i have any extra money I could go to a store and get them digitalized ( I believe Fed-ex does this, maybe they can attach it to my post as proof that I used the money for good causes later, if given the chance). Also the desktop we have has no webcam. :(

Why no just call the authorities - well my caretaker knows how to manipulate people into thinking their mentally stable, and make me seems I'm the bad guy, also they keep their flip phone in their pockets the whole time so I can not get it. They don't even use it, I've never even heard one call.

I know this sounds weird and inconstant, but theirs just so many things that went one, so many narcissistic things me caretaker has done, and just very strange instances such as them trying to seduce me a dew times (believe me you don't understand how bad this had affected me). I need to get out, I i would, only problem is if I escape out at when there sleeping or at the casino or when there at the dollar store, I would pretty much end up homeless, and they would not let me back in, .I'm basically a slave of the system that they have personally set up and twisted to keep me trapped with them, and since they work from home I'm always been watched and monitored, please I may seem crazy and shady but it's the unfortunate truth for me, I would lie if I said i would not be jealous of the average family, going on vacations, or even just spending time together, or have warm meals, a lot of stuff that may seem the norm to you ( I'm assuming you probably leave similar to the average family household, sorry if I'm wrong, all my info comes from you tube and reddit pretty much.)

Like I said, my other parent is gone, I have no contact with their side of the family and never knew them, if they even have any, and my only other family member, my aunt, is even worse then my own caretaker. Please help me, I don't want to die here, although I may actually deserve it for all I know, why would I be placed in such a prison like environment, it seems like there is no escape. I hope I did not make you feel bad, I just need hope theirs so much I would like to do, even getting a job seems fun to me, I'll actually be able to interact with people for once. I was once afraid of doing this, since all of these experiences made me develop severe Anxiety of pretty much every type, and OCD ( especially my OCD, anyone with this knows how worse it can make things), and depression, but I realized that things are only going to get worse with time, and as my caretaker gets older, the more violent, chaotic, and irrationally and crazy they become. Please I just want to live my life and start over, get my act together, and leave them once and for all, I have the plan, and the plans thought of after that, there is only one thing holding me back, money. I wish I could be aloud to work and slowly save up but again that's not the case, I hope at least you can share my story, I only have about a week and a half to raise this money before my caretaker gets to suspicious about the card and I will not get a chance like this ever again, this is literally a one of a lifetime chance I have etc do this, I am very desperate. I hope I don't sound needy, I'm just trying to be assertive as this is my only time to do this, it;s taken about a week to make this whole post, because I can only use the computer when there gone, or late at night. It's very late where I am and so I will need to post this, clear some of the history, and just wait it out, I still have some faith. But if there's' some sort of message I can give about this, is that you may not realize it, but most people, the majority are lucky to have someone to love and care for you, to go to or call when needed, whether they may be friends, family, or even pets, and to be self-sustaining even eating a regular meal multiple times a day, now i know I'm not the only poor person in the world but I just feel so unlucky being here, and I do feel injustice and feel like my entire life is a joke and completely unfair. Out of all the chances for life in this world I had be be born in this disturbing scenario, I just had to strike out in life from the moment I was born. But maybe I'm overlooking this, there's probably worse situations, there defiantly is, I guess I'll just wait and see what happens, it's all I've ever done, and if this cycle does not end, it's all I will ever do, until one day I just can't take it and am pushed over the edge...I hope that day does not come, I hope to be strong throughout this whole time I am alive. I will bring justice to this terrible situation, I just need a break for one day, I've never really relaxed before, I just want to get cleaned up, not spend another night here, eat a good meal, and then when I'm ready tell this to the authorities, hopefully they can do something.

Note* : I have the full text I was originally going to post saved, it's full of spelling errors and is EXTREMELY long, so I decided to not post it, but if you're still skeptical or anything and if this does get attention I would be more than happy to screenshot and post them, however I don't think I will have enough time to fix the spelling errors. There so much I just want to vent out, I barely even touched on all the the things I have been through, and one day I will, but to wrap this up and not make it took long, I will end this here, I made a post last week so if your still interested my life story then check my post history, it should be the first post I've ever made. Thank you for reading, please share for me.

If you find me worthy of deserving a better life then I hope you could donate , please this is literally my last chance to freedom .

Sincerely,

~ Q .r

Submitted November 17, 2017 at 05:58AM by LastChanceToFreedom http://ift.tt/2yPwKSZ SuicideWatch

Before you kill yourself... SuicideWatch

Live Like You're Dying

In addition to exercising regularly and eating right, I make it a top priority to commit suicide every couple of years. Little girls might dream of the picture-perfect wedding, planning and envisioning the ideal bridal gown and the glorious release of white doves, but since I was little I've been planning my supreme self-murder. I've edited and honed the tableau: me as corpse with as little mess as possible. Nothing fancy, no shotguns or nooses, no swan dives from high windows of the Chrysler Building.

As a newspaper reporter, I was sent several times every winter to cover the same scene: a family found dead after they'd tried to heat their home by bringing a charcoal barbecue indoors. In each case, the carbon monoxide had suffocated them while they slept, and I'd visit the location with paramedics and police. And those dead nuclear families, Mom and Dad and the kids tucked into their beds, they looked . . . really great. So peaceful. Without any sign of rictus, vomitus, or spasm. Their faces so smooth and relaxed they might still be asleep.

If you ask me, that's the way to go. I'm probably prejudiced from living in a state where it's legal to ring down your own curtain, next door to another state where you can choose to die. Sometime I should tell you about being invited to a going-away party where the host drank phenobarbital. I didn't know a soul there, especially not the host, who was only weeks away from a natural death from colon cancer. A friend of a friend of a friend had phoned me in tears and begged me to escort her, because it seemed bad form and a touch pathetic to show up stag for such an event. It's amazing, but between Judith Martin and Emily Post and Amy Vanderbilt, no one has covered the etiquette for this situation—what to wear, what to bring as a bread-and-butter gift, how to address the dying stranger. What's worse is I didn't know about the Final Exit aspect of the party until the guests were asked to join hands and light candles. This was my blind date with death.

Self-euthanasia is major trend in the making. Each year in the United States, some 26,000 men die by their own hand, including some smarter, braver men than you and me. Hunter S. Thompson. Kurt Cobain. Spalding Gray. David Foster Wallace. These were men of infinite accomplishment, finances, and talent, and we will miss them. But if you're going to check out, you must first promise to take on a more difficult task. You'll have to wait 7 days, and in that last week of your life, you'll have to perform what I glibly refer to as the Three C's. Don't worry, the time will fly by. Like the final week at a job you hate, every moment will be gilded with nostalgia and sweetened with the knowledge that you're a dead man walking. The Ultimate Temp. The game's almost over, and you're just running out the clock.

The first C stands for Clean. Clean your bathroom. Clean your car. Do the laundry and scrub the grout. Pull out the refrigerator and wipe behind it. Wash the windows. Do everything. The second C stands for Cull. Ransack your files and discard everything except your most important papers. The same goes for your closets and memorabilia—really, all your possessions. If you haven't looked at it recently, toss it. Donate it. Destroy it. Throw all your history and secrets into the garbage. Do the same with the aged contents of your medicine cabinet and kitchen. Also, spring for a really good haircut. Despite popular superstition, human hair does not grow beyond death, so you might as well look good. Treat yourself. Pamper, pamper, pamper; you have my permission.

Any man will tell you that it's not the big disasters that finish you. No, given an invasion by hostile space aliens or an attack of flesh-eating zombies, most guys will grab their coats and hats and run out to join the fray. Even a run-of-the-mill earthquake or forest fire constitutes a nice change of pace. Instead, what grinds us down are the parking tickets. The spoiled food in the back of the fridge. The dirty clothes at the bottom of the hamper that haven't seen daylight since 1995. Once you allow a critical mass of these petty annoyances to collect, you're sunk.

Regarding Culling, my point is: If you can shave, you can live.

The third C stands for Connect. This means contacting everyone you've known and saying something nice. No matter how much you hate them, let go of that bitterness. Identify some aspect of each person, something you've secretly admired or envied or coveted, and praise that something. Say how jealous you were of his career or happy marriage or a particular merino wool mock-turtleneck sweater.

Yes, this process feels like a huge humiliation, but what do you have to lose? Forget your self-pity. Forget your anger and defensiveness. Forgive everybody and forgive yourself. In another week they'll be gazing down into your casket, feeling just awful. So for now, throw them a bone. Give them a break.

Beyond that, fully imagine your death: the cozy warmth, the pleasant wooziness. The sound of your favorite film or music playing in the background. Envision your sparkling bathroom and empty filing cabinets. Then imagine the world without you. The same traffic jams and famines. The same political crap fights and your team never making the playoffs. People will forget you. Everyone will forget you. You're no Kurt Cobain, so just light your barbecue and toast a marshmallow. . . .

But if you've completed the Three C's, chances are good that you won't bother. Because by then you'll be surrounded by friends who now recognize you as a valuable, sensitive guy. Your oven will be clean, your car vacuumed. In the same way you procrastinated on your taxes, you can procrastinate on your death. And, at least for the moment, your hair looks . . . really great.

-Chuck Palahniuk, author of Fight Club, Invisible Monsters, and the author of this Men's Health article that really made me just stop and think for a minute a few years ago that I thought might benefit a few of us on this sub....

Submitted August 30, 2017 at 11:25PM by crumbbelly http://ift.tt/2wT1xRp SuicideWatch

I got a dog to help my depression but so far that decision has only made it worse. SuicideWatch

I'm gonna try to keep this as short as I can.

I got my heartbroken suddenly in December and I'm still not over it. Right after that my grandma who was basically my best friend sudden passed away. My parents forced me to go to college at home where I have very little freedom and most of my friends left. I feel like I wasted my hard work in high school by going to a mediocre university where I don't feel like I fit in and I have no friends. I have a job but it pays terribly. Whenever I've tried to tell my mom that I'm going to apply for another job she cries and gets angry and tells me that I shouldn't get a job but stay home and clean the house for money from them. I've been taking care of my sister's dog for most of the time for about 3 years because she leaves her with me but when she takes her dog back I get even more sad because it helps me to not feel so lonely.

I had been asking my mom if I could have a dog of my own for months because I felt like it would help me to not feel as sad. Whenever I try to tell her about my mental health problems she brushes it off. My dad, sister and uncle thought it would be a great idea for me to get a dog since I've done so well with caring for my sister's dog. My mom rejected the idea but we all figured she could grow to love my dog and we adopted one anyways. So far my dog has been amazing but my mom basically kicked me out to live with my sister because of it.

My sister doesn't even stay at her house because none of the appliances work and she doesn't care to fix them but stays with her boyfriend instead. Now I'm stuck here with two dogs in a house with basically nothing else and my sister is gone as usual.

I feel stupid for thinking I could have handled them both and myself included. Now I have to get a new job and continue with school and take care of two dogs, in a house without a working oven, refrigerator, washer, dryer or air conditioner. I didn't expect this to happen and I didn't think my actions through and I feel so stupid.

If I weren't a Christian and thought I would go to hell for suicide I would have killed myself already. But now I'm coming to a breaking point.

Submitted July 12, 2017 at 10:54PM by ummsoyeah http://ift.tt/2sQCybF SuicideWatch

Here I am Again. SuicideWatch

Im sitting here, in a dark room. Surrounded by dirty stale clothing, clothes that don't fit, Ive gained weight from eating so much junk food. Rotten milk in the refrigerator, and molded bread in the kitchen. Bags of rotting fast food on my desk and floor. No messages on my phone. My mom is never home much, neither is my sister.

I know, Im in college, I should be able to get the groceries but I just, I find getting McDonalds easier. I know I could work out, and go out, but I just don't feel like embarrassing myself out running. I know I should clean up, but I just don't care. One of my "pals" posted on social media she wanted to hang out with people today, I asked if I could join, she said she cancelled anyway, then posted pictures of her going out with different people. I made a nail appointment, with my what I thought to be best friend, We were gonna get our nails done, and hang out. She ditched me to go on a date with a guy she met a day ago.

My sister is the most popular girl at school, my mom bough her a gym membership so she is skinny and tanned from going out so much, even though she is just going into high school she goes out to party and get drunk and high with her friends.

My mom never let me do anything like that when I was her age. It was always, study, school is more important, maybe thats why I have no friends.

I sit fat and pale, I Skype my boyfriend for maybe an hour and then he falls asleep or gets depressed, he's in the same boat. We are long distance and its been a year since Ive seen him face to face.

I hate everything. My mom sits there worried when she comes home. All I do now is sit and stare at a wall for hours. Not even TV makes me happy anymore, its like watching everyone have fun except you.

If its not depression its anxiety, and that one is worse I think.

I have a therapist, the 15th one Ive seen in my life, it works for a bit and then it all goes down hill again.

Ive taken all medication under the sun. You name it. Prozac, Cymbalta, Effexor, Pristiq, etc. None work. They feel like nothing. Xanax, Adavan, Weed... nothing. The weed just made me paranoid.

All college kids my age want to party and get drunk and wasted and get high. I just feel like I wold be disappointing my mother if I did that. I don't mean to sound straightedge, but I don't see the point in those things. I don't wanna make a mistake, I have a long term boyfriend, and he would be disappointed too Im not gonna lie.

I hate my life.

Submitted July 03, 2017 at 09:30AM by pinkpeoniesblueskies http://ift.tt/2tH2vyH SuicideWatch

I tried and failed once before. I've been thinking about trying again. SuicideWatch

Winter 2014, I sat in my apartment alone after a night out with my friends. Even after drinking at the bars, I drank half a fifth of vodka and took Tylenol PM. 2-3 pills at a time, I ended up taking around 18 pills before I puked my guts out and passed out in the bathroom.

Tylenol PM has been my weird, unhealthy coping method. I take 3-4 pills and it truly just numbs the pain. I've been taking a lot lately as my boyfriend has been just completely stonewalling me all week. Today, I begged him to communicate with me, but we broke up instead. And now, 5 pills deep, I'm reminded of my failed attempt 2.5 years ago. I have a new bottle of 200 pills and a box of wine in the refrigerator. This is something I've thought about a lot lately. But today, it seems very tempting.

Submitted May 18, 2017 at 07:24AM by rtoes93 http://ift.tt/2pNa2dF SuicideWatch

my note rant (don't try finding me, respect my privacy) SuicideWatch

You know there are going to be some things that I’m going to miss. One of them was the library on the 7th floor in the library. The only party I really cared about was in the philosophy section. Never in my life did I see so many books on various topics. Sometimes I get angry and mad that I believe I will never read all these books there, what the hell it all means. I wish I can be able to go back somewhere and had the chance to do only that, not go to church, watch tv, spend time with my family. I just want to read read silently in the chair that faces the communications building. That’s it. Just read and nothing more.

I’m a fucking idiot to think that I can be able to do anything more that what I’m constrained in. I hate the cults that I have witnessed, the fact that I am always under stress from my parents over anything. I wish I was never born than to have them again. I wish I could have ended my life a long time a go t han to be at this point that I barely have money to move out of my house. For those who say they are pastors, they talk about saving others, but they can’t even save themselves. So as similar to Nietzsche, they always lash out their resentment to other people. I won’t have it anymore. I know the lies that they have kept to themselves. I wish they could have left me to Argentina (and if I die, I don't want my body to go to Argentina, I hate that country of nothing but hispanic nazi’s).

I hate this mask that I have to wear on every single day. The mask of passivity, the mask of “xxxx”. But “xxx” never existed, it was just a tool to use in order to people to stop attacking me. If I can really show you what I am, I’m nothing more than a bitter, sociopathic, violent person. I am in complete opposite of what I say or how I feel, in the end I hope that my real self never comes up, because even a dog vomits and returns to what they departed from. I hope to never be the person

I only miss very few people in my life, but they are not here with me any more. I would give up everything I know just to be able to see and be with them in the end. It’s not love that I sought out as the “answer”, but rather just a relationship of pain and how how I was able to bond and communicate my pain towards them. Oh how I miss them so much. It doesn’t matter that for one it’s been two years and the other nearly a decade, I wish I had the chance to know them better.

Because I did not achieive anything, I ask to be buried like my icon Cesare Borgia. I want my body cremated and my bones scattered in the streets where people can go and walk on me. People may view this as something of horror, but that is al that I request. Those who don’t achieive anything in life or their ultimate goal shouldn’t in my opinion have the right to be buried. I want my life to be fufilled in a greek tragedy. And I don’t want anyone in my funeral, I want silence. It’s not like I had any personal effect on people anyway, so people who knew me wil get the hint like an animal when one of their own dies. I’ve seen it of how of how quickly the places where I have always been seemed to do just fine. I’m not angry of tht, I find that as in it’s own way lovely. To know that their is one less dfucked up person in the world and the world forgot about him.

Sometimes I regret the things that I have said in this note, but it’s my fucking suicide note, and I believe I have the right to know whwat I say.

Mom and Dad, you shouldn’t be all that religious. You shoudn’t care about the salvation of others when all it destroys you in the end. You listen blindly to other cults telling you what to say when you can’t feel satisfaction of living here. Why do christians as well as buddhists want to negate ilfe or even enjoy what makes us human, even if we sin. If I can’t live on this world, why would people expect me to want to live in heaven? Why would they even think that if I don’t like their lifestyle, their errors, their mysticism, would I appreciate the fact that I will have “immortality” up in heaven. And to do what with it exactly? Be happy that I get to be up there when I would rather be here? I hate both now, because I cannot escape from them, that I might as well annihalate myself. I don’t hate God. God made me, and he does what he decides. BUt my parents shouldn’t be the ones to say what God wants nor do christian institutions, I’m going to show those idiots what a Christian ought to do in a post secular world. I will escape from heaven and earth, because their ways disgust me.

Brothers and sisters, get the fuck out of there before it’s too late.

Give any money that I have to UNICEF or the church. Tell them that they can take my blood money. Money is all that dad fucking talks about. It disgusts me how there are pastors and other christians who act and pray and perform while we all suffer in the end. Fuck those guys in their big houses. Most of your kids are fucked up, and I will laugh knowing how the church as well as other protestant churches will be in the next 40 years.

Now that I’m going to die, I’m feeling a bit cold that I just won’t be here anymore. It’s a type of feeling of being inside a refrigerator, your’re cramped and it’s dark and you don’t know what tot do. But at least in this step I know what to do.

There are some books I wrote and other writings that you will find, please put them on the internet for free.

I’m going out Deleuzian style :D

Submitted February 14, 2017 at 11:37PM by worldhasturned http://ift.tt/2kH1IWj SuicideWatch

Is this the beginning? SuicideWatch

I got home from work this morning. I wrote a suicide note. It's been kicking my ass harder than usual as of late.

I have too much time to think at work, even with music blaring in my ears to stave off the thoughts. I got home and the smallest thing set me off. Dirty dishes and my refrigerator fucking up. I'm on light duty at work due to injury. I haven't held a decent relationship in two years--everyone I have dated has turned out to be really shitty. Lying to me, manipulating me, hurting me in one way or another. I don't have a family. That I speak to anyways. I hate their guts. They abused me as a child up into my mid twenties. I feel like the thought in the back of peoples' minds. Or more accurately, an afterthought. Something people think about, briefly, and forget about. I do a lot for people. More than I should. More than I have to. However, I feel unappreciated. I'm a couple years away from 30 and I don't have the confidence to believe I'll ever see that number. Or if I want to. I think the only thing that keep me downing a bottle of pills and swerving head on into a semi are my cats, because I'm afraid they won't be taken care of or spoiled properly when I'm gone. That sounds stupid reading over it, but it's true. Either way, I'm spilling my guts to strangers on an internet forum. I don't as a way to rant and clear my head, or because I'm desperate and secretly afraid that I've reached the threshold of this pain.

Submitted June 26, 2016 at 04:37PM by Nutshe11 http://ift.tt/28WreT7 SuicideWatch

What would you do? SuicideWatch

Sitting in the front seat of an old, rusted-out pinto, I presented a Necco wafer to my brother saying, “This is the Body of Christ.” We also found an old mass booklet in the glove compartment from which I read to him with a priest’s authority. We were holding Catholic mass. It was 1985 and the pinto was one of the many cars that littered my grandfather's junkyard which also happened to be our backyard. We were often left to play among the abandoned cars, broken 1950s refrigerators, old washers, dryers, tangled hoses, mangled metal and threadbare tires. We navigated this maze with a sense of adventure—each car, each machine was like its own little treasure island. It would be years before we became self-aware of the treachery of playing among the debris or of the shame of living in a junkyard. Instead, I was worried that day that we were going to hell. Sister Gloria had just taught our class that not going to mass on Sundays was a mortal sin, a sin for which one went to hell. I returned home sick with worry and begged my mother to take us to church. “Going to church,”she said as she took a long drag on her cigarette, “was the least of our concerns.” Since I couldn’t get her to comprehend the gravity of our situation or take us to church, I hoped that with a little bit of improvisation, I could save our own souls. I could act the part of the priest, my brother the communicant, the candy our host and the pinto our church. This type of improvising is something I would rely on for years and in many situations; it was a dubious business but it was only ever unsatisfactory in retrospect. It seems I’ve been trying to save souls for a very long time. I repeatedly fought with my mother (as much as she could be fought with for it’s always an unequal battle between the abused and the abuser) throughout my adolescence and then adulthood telling her that I was worried, something was wrong with my brother…She would get really defensive and call me a judgmental snob—that he was just choosing a different lifestyle—a life “off the grid” or that I was delusional and paranoid imagining catastrophes where none existed. I called our disconnected, on-again-off-again father hoping he could help me but his voice would drift off with a twinge of distaste whenever I expressed my concerns about my brother…it seemed like he thought I was stirring up trouble where none needed to be made or at least where he certainly didn’t need to acknowledge. I talked to my aunt, grandmother, and anyone I thought could offer some insight about what I was seeing--an increasingly troubled and sick brother who needed help. Finally, I went directly to him and told him how much I was worried about him and that I wanted to help. He insisted that there really wasn’t anything wrong but that he could really use some help getting his finances back in order, getting his license re-instated, his back child support paid off, and straighten out some debt that the IRS was after him for…So, I thought those are some pretty deep holes that could hold anyone back…maybe if I dug him out, he could make a new start. I paid off the child support, his license fee, helped him go through the process of re-instatement, and took care of some smaller bills. I also went grocery shopping for him and included a gift card for more when those ran out. We then mapped out a plan of action on how to deal with the IRS…he promised me that he would follow-through. Flash forward 6 months, and he was slowly going back into the same hole of debt…he didn’t make any payments after we paid off his existing debt. My husband and I hired him to come do some painting and yard work which he never finished. In fact, I was baffled by the fact that he barely started some projects. One night he could only manage to paint one baseboard before needing to head home. When he returned months later, I had finished that painting job and he never brought it up. He just rushed through another half-finished projected and asked for the cash up front. I was not upset with him about any of the money he took or the projects that he left undone, but I was scared and desperately afraid….I knew that something was profoundly wrong. And instead of the many other emotions I could have felt, it was guilt that tore a hole through me. I started to do a “life review” of our lives as children…I was trying to think about what went wrong—why I couldn’t seem to help him….what had I done to him? I couldn’t stop cycling through the abuse we both suffered at the hands of our mother, the violent, chaotic, and neglectful upbringing we lived…about how we viciously fought with one another, how I would swear and wield a knife around like we had seen my mother often do, how I couldn’t shower with my eyes closed, or how I slept with knives and scissors under my mattress and pillow or about how out of nowhere, seemingly out of the blue I could physically feel, smell and see the abuse happening over and over again…I also thought about the many times I “escaped” our home to sleep at a best friend’s house, to go to college, to volunteer in the Peace Corps, to get married and start a family and how I just left him behind, left him to the same sad, scary memories where they actually happened. I spiraled into the deepest depression of my life. For about nine months, i existed in a pattern of crying, suicidal thoughts, anxiety, and devastation before I finally broke down and went for help. Within two months, I was diagnosed with anxiety then PTSD then depression….upon getting the PTSD diagnosis, I vowed that I would take my life rather than disclose all of my abuse or admit that something so heavy, scary, and complex was what I was grappling with—How could I have managed to live almost 40 years without knowing that I carried these labels? Or, how could I have achieved so many things while suffering from so many mental illnesses? Why am I still suffering now when I am out of my abusive home and am living as a married adult with children in a situation where I have traveled very far from the junkyard to the American dream? Shortly after being diagnosed, I began to drink nightly, heavily, alone…I lost 20 pounds and stopped eating or sleeping. It seemed like heavy doses of vodka along with low weight and some antidepressants could help me achieve my goal of not waking up in the morning—something I desperately wished for but was too scared to deliberately enact. My treatment team intervened strongly and I received a couple new diagnoses—alcohol dependence and an eating disorder. Now, they are urging me to get my alcohol use under control…but I feel too tired, too weak, and too stubbornly stuck to wanting to kill myself to really dedicate myself to long-term abstinence. I feel uniquely FUCKED, and alone, and hopeless….I also feel like I cannot fully articulate this to my therapist someone who has done everything to help me. She has been a momentary source of solace and hope throughout all of this…for one hour per week, I feel a little better, a little less alone. My appetite returns after our sessions and I am able to enjoy blueberry pancakes with syrup...it only tastes good momentarily. I think to myself, “She has experienced pain and is working through it….maybe I can too.” She is someone I have grown to deeply admire and I feel tremendous guilt that I am letting her down by not getting better, by not investing 100% in my treatment, by countering her advice with reasons why it may not apply to me (perhaps, I am worse off than most others)….I think I should step away from her so that I don’t burn her out or make her question her effectiveness…I’m afraid of hurting her in addition to the others I am letting down—my own family and children. I’m also afraid that she’ll grow to hate me, despise me for such flagrant and provocative self-destruction. I think about the number one rule given to lifeguards, “Do not make it a double drowning.” When saving a drowning person, they may latch onto you and drown you as well….Lifeguards are advised to swim downwards until the drowning swimmer releases them and they can swim away. If this does not work, they are to strike them upon the nose or use any other means of force to separate. I want to tell her, shout to her don’t you know that I am drowning? Shouldn’t you be practicing these lifeguarding skills? At the same time, I am mute with warnings because I’m too afraid to let her know that I’m drowning in case she takes that very wise advice and decides to leave me there alone, at the bottom of the lake. I also worry she may already doing so and I cannot blame her. 

It has now been 53 days since I last made contact with my brother.

We found out in November of 2015 that he had been abusing prescription opioids which then turned into herion use for the last 4 years. His admission was like a punch to the gut—and it coincided with the highest point of my treatment in the fall...all the signs of his drug abuse were there… but still, another part of me wanted to believe that his looking like a bag of bones, deteriorating health (he had MRSA infections a couple of times from which he came dangerously close to becoming septic and dying, he had horrible scabs and open sores on his face), his strange, evasive behavior (he wore long sleeve pants and shirts in ninety degree weather and fell asleep on the couch at every family holiday or gathering), and inability to pay any and all bills (he was running an electric extension cord from his apartment to another, he had no car, no food, stopped paying his child support) was because of some other, unknown factor…something less lethal. I went into overdrive when we finally got confirmation that he was doing heroin. I researched treatment places, I consulted addiction specialists, I attended support group meetings…I fielded calls, I made calls, I was ready to go back in to the burning building….I had a second chance to perform the heroic, instead of the cowardly act of leaving like I had done in the past….I had always admired the lore of Pony boy in The Outsiders when he saves the children from the burning church. When I drove him to his first appointment at a local treatment clinic he talked about the abuse we had experienced as children…about how he remembered trying really hard as a child….to be good, to do well in school, to play sports….but that it was never enough, never okay and as the obstacles grew and the abuse increased he said he consciously decided to give up. He told me how he repeatedly tried to explain the abuse and these feelings to his girlfriend but that he always felt a sense that it didn’t come out right, like it sounded trite…not a big deal…something he was overreacting to…he felt alone with his own bad memories. Then as if almost to himself, he spoke about hiding under our covers as our mother whacked us all over with a wooden spoon…I had forgotten about this one…and it certainly isn’t even close to the worst story we could share…but it brought back that sense of terror…of not knowing what she was going to do from one moment to the next or what was going to happen… A few weeks into the chaos of finding out about my brother’s drug use, my mother decided to tell everyone surrounding him that I was pushing my own agenda in trying to get him to seek help from an addiction treatment center that would do a combination of medication for his addiction, therapy for any underlying issues and group support. I received a phone call from his best friend and my father saying that she knew best about what was going on with him and what he needed because she saw him on a daily basis while I only saw him occasionally. They said sorry but they were going to support what she was advocating for (which was to give my brother more time, leave him be, let him go to a local service and see how he does)….What they didn’t know and what I regret not telling them is that she abused us…repeatedly, chronically, maliciously throughout our childhood and into adulthood. I let the secrets lie there, festering….and I’ve once again become an accomplice to his potential death. It was like walking away from the burning house because I know that if I go back in there I could be consumed by the flames. Shortly afterwards, he stopped speaking to me. I send him texts every few days telling him I love him, that I am here for him. I leave voicemails when his phone is working and tell him to please call me that I am worried, that I am here for him. It’s like hearing my voice on the surface of a lake….it echoes with a hollow loneliness on the vast, flat surface of chilly, dark waters. I picked back up with my drinking sometime in February….and I go back and forth between re-committing to my original plan to end my life or trying to stop and listen to my doctors that I could feel better….that I have children who need me….that I need to radically accept my past and inability to make my brother better. Saving souls is a bad practice….it’s egocentric and narcissistic to say that you want to save someone else…it’s messy and painful and fraught with failure...everyone tells me you can only be responsible for yourself…But, is that really accurate? Are we not responsible for the suffering of others….especially those we are intimately and intricately bound to? No one else but my brother knows what happened for all of those years…I suspect he has similar feelings and emotions that he struggles with…I am the only living testament to him and he is the only living testament to me…the only one who shared the same common lived experience so how could I not try and do something or anything or everything? In AA meetings, we recite the Serenity Prayer: God grant me the serenity To accept the things I cannot change; Courage to change the things I can; And wisdom to know the difference. 

and sometimes it touches a deep part of me…. maybe I cannot do anything and must learn to accept life as it was then and is now. Maybe I can change my perspective or the way I relate to pain and suffering. One woman in our meeting spoke recently about losing a sponsee to a heroin addiction and how she was devastated by the loss but found comfort in the advice that we live our lives better in honor of those we have lost. That is beautiful, truly inspiring, but it’s beauty is fleeting. It seems that it is just a temporary salve—a comfort—a justification about why we must go on when others cannot. To think about it in any other way, would surely bring about our own suffering, perhaps our own demise. I am prepared to face that—to face suffering, to face pain. I cannot control my brother’s choices nor can I change or even forsee the outcome, but I can control myself in a very deliberate, careful way. I can stop eating and drink heavily as an active, noticeable protest to what is happening to my brother, to what happened to us as children, and to send a clear, distinct message that it is not okay, and that we are not okay. I may not save his soul or my soul or any soul... in fact, my actions may do the exact opposite; but I have grown tired and my improvisation skills have become futile.

Submitted April 19, 2016 at 08:29AM by pilgrim_tinkercreek http://ift.tt/1SoSklP SuicideWatch

I'm 28 years old. SuicideWatch

I'm 28 years old and I feel like I'm in my 70s. Nothing brings me joy anymore. Everyday feels the same. It almost feel as if I am drowning. It's hard to get out of bed or give a shit really. I have felt this way since I was 16. People always said it would get better. Well I don't believe it anymore. My 20s have have almost past me and I have nothing to show for it. There is no light at the end of this tunnel. There is no pot of gold at the end of this rainbow. All I feel is apathy anymore. I tried everything, from volunteering at a homeless shelter and a free health care clinic. I eat super healthy and work out 6 days a week. And I still feel so weak and tired. I even tried to find comfort in alcohol. Nothing makes me feel better. I tried taking medication and I tried talking to my friends and family. I also talked to doctor about it and they all said just give it time and it will get better. How long must I wait. Everyday feels like a chore. I'm sick of jumping through hoops. I don't really even know why I am writing this. I just finished packing all my things into boxes. I cleaned out my refrigerator and vacuumed and mopped my house. I changed the oil in my car and filled it up full of gas. I withdrew most of the money from my bank accounts and put the money in an envelope on my kitchen table. It should be enough to cover my death and more. I have written notes for my mother and all of my friends telling them how very sorry I am, telling them what I love about them and thanking them for all they have done for me. They are the only reason I lasted this long. I bought a .308 Winchester. I cleaned it four or five times now. Its the first gun I have ever owned and its the first time in a long time where I feel free. It's finally over. I wish you all the best.

Submitted March 30, 2016 at 09:13AM by Redline103 http://ift.tt/25vsQKn SuicideWatch

I lost everything. Now battling with suicidal thoughts. SuicideWatch

I am a 25 year old guy from India. My English is limited. Sorry for that. I moved to Taiwan three years before. After one year of hard labor work, I used the hard earned money to start a small restaurant. After six months of good business, I decided to start a small bar. Then comes this guy. Named victor. He is reason I almost killed myself. The only thing that kept going is online community friends. Let's come to the story of how he ruined my life. I worked so hard day and night with out sleep for six months to grow my business to point that it got famous in the local city. Then I did some upgrade to my small restaurant to little bar. Then comes this evil guy named victor. He comes to my bar every weekend. Cause I hire some hot show girl to dance on every weekend. As a owner of a bar, I used to talk to my customer very well. The same way I talked well to him too. So after a while he started coming to my shop everyday. So we become very good friends. I even charged less for his alcohol. I trusted him. But I noticed this guy after a while started to concentrate on my customers and talked to them a lot. The strange thing is Most of my customers told me that he just got their contact. Then after a while I got to know that he worked for another local bar. He usually asked them to go to that bar every time. But I didn't care cause I got more better content in my place to be more entertaining. But I still gave him a small warning. But he told so many customer that I harassed my worker. Which swear to God never happened. And went to my girlfriend shop and told her that I do drugs and I sell drugs. So it is very dangerous for her to be with me. And many other stuff he made up about me. She believed him mostly because I am a foreigner. But she never told me the reason. But I managed to put some rat on her android phone and got all the text and phone call record. This year has been very unlucky for me. Cause I got some surgery at the same time all these are happening and had to stay in the hospital for a week at that time. From one of my friend I get to know that she is going out with him now. I got really sad. I started to drink a lot cause I really loved this girl. As I did not stayed in bar most of the time my business started going downhill. but I still managed to get up and started to concentrate on my job. But my one year arc time finished. As per Taiwanese law I have to get out of the country and come back to get my arc one year more time. So now when I am in Hong Kong, victor paid one of my worker to open the shop. And he stole all my alcohols, one refrigerator, two tvs and sofas. Almost every thing inside. Because I didn't turn on my camera it didn't record anything. So basically I have no proof. When I asked him about this he told he literally he took everything and I can't do anything about it. If I want I can try to prove it anywhere. And laughed to my face. So basically I don't have anything in my hands now. The only thing I had in my life is this bar. It's gone now too. I don't have money for my next meal. My computer stopped working last week. I have two pants, one pair of shoe, and two shirt and one mobile phone. I will be homeless this month end. I really wanted to kill myself now. Because I don't have any family or friends in real life to help me. No money to hire a lawyer. This broke me piece by piece. But before I say good bye To the world, I just wanted this to be a lesson for other. Thank you so much for listening.

Submitted March 22, 2016 at 04:31AM by abiismad http://ift.tt/1SdZcSJ SuicideWatch

a recap of my stupid life SuicideWatch

I just want to scream. I want people to understand why I've come to this decision, but it doesn't really matter because everyone is always caught up with the whole "anyone can be saved" bullshit. Everyone's life is hard yadda yadda yadda, get over it, go to therapy, take your meds.

My father was in the military when he met my neurotic Korean mother. He acquired brain damage during his time there as well as ptsd on top of being a bipolar alcoholic. My mother has borderline personality tendencies. My sister was born and then I came along two years later. My mother burned down our house, tried to stab my dad and was suicidal while I was in the womb. When they divorced she kidnapped us and left us with her sister and abusive husband. They kept us in a closet and generally neglected us for months until my paternal grandparents and my father found us and took us back to the US.

My father "raised" my sister and I while my mother was off gambling and moving around the country, sometimes calling and sending money from her many suitors when the guilt became too much. My father was extremely neglectful. We always had rotting food in the refrigerator, lived in absolute filth, slept on the ground of his bedroom in trash with ants everywhere while he drank nightly and watched porn and masturbated in front of us. On top of all this he would blow up over anything, and I mean ANYTHING. Couldn't find his keys? That's a two hour session of him berating my sister and I, telling us how worthless we are.

Teachers were worried that we were being abused because we'd come to school with dirty clothes and had extreme learning disabilities. I would sweat, shake and cry over the littlest things. At one point a teacher coerced me into telling people I had been molested, and I was confused because I had seen so much sex in porn magazines at such a young age and that led to my genitals being examined and then my dad being mad about it all.

My paternal grandparents were wealthy and anytime we'd call them crying they'd remind us that that they had it harder growing up, so we need to stop our crying.

My dad had his random male friends live with us through out the years leeching off us even though we didn't even have enough money to keep our electricity on.

Even though I was in special ed and was really emotionally fragile I still tried my fucking hardest. I'd run around in the snow barefoot just to toughen myself up, I'd listen to mozart every morning so that maybe it could give me the intelligence that I longed for. I'd shake and cry doing my homework at night, but goddamn it I was determined. Even when my sister and I were taken away from my father in put into a group home, I was so excited at the taste of freedom that I knew was coming when I finally could get away from that dreaded man.

At 14 one event changed everything. My ear had been acting up because all the cigarette smoke frequently gave me ear infections. Well my sister got mad at me and smacked me on the side of the head. This led me to put some ear drops in it, which led to a burning sensation. I freaked out and blew as hard as I could through the tube leading from the back of my throat up to my ear. Well from the point on that tube (eustachain tube) was permanently open leading to constant whooshing anytime i'd take a breath. I could hear my voice booming in my head at all times. It was maddening.

My mental health declined drastically from there. Even through all this I still did well in track and field and eventually got a full scholarship to a D1 school, but I couldn't keep it together. After seeing an ENT, who had no diagnosis or help to give regarding my ear I resorted to poking the opening in the tube with safety pins. I just knew that I wanted it to close up. I'd be in my dorm trying to study and get myself ready for practice with this loud static in my head with a mouth full of blood from poking that goddamn hole.

Everyone was just like "WHY CAN'T YOU BE HAPPY" "TRY A LITTLE HARDER" I just wanted to scream. I was trying. I was trying so fucking hard.

After a year of school I tried to overdose on xanax. I couldn't handle the fucking noise in my head and no one would fucking listen. My high school friends came to the rescue and brought me to another nearby college town, but I was still extremely suicidal. I soon became a hermit in a house with former sorority girls. I had no car and worked at a deli about 15 hours a week. I lived on 500 dollars a month and could do nothing but think of suicide. My brain was slowly deteriorating even further. I could barely read a sentence or think straight at all.

Well from then on I had boyfriend after boyfriend. I was displaying classic symptoms of borderline personality disorder at this point, but no amount of meds or therapy would help. That fucking whooshing would drive me over the edge each and every time. I was abusive and did a lot of things I'm very ashamed of. My impulses and logical thinking were so skewed from being under such constant duress that I could barely put two and two together regarding my actions and how they affected other people. I was just trying to self-destruct.

At one point I even tattooed my own face thinking that a tiny freckled would take away attention from other features that I despised. When I realized how ugly it was I proceeded to rip it out of my face with tweezers and then sew it up myself. I also realigned my nose that had been broken as a teenager with two cans of peas, knocking one into the other, which thankfully worked.

I eventually got involved with opiates and alcohol in an effort to destroy myself. I was finding it harder and harder to keep a job or live. The whooshing would never go away and there was no way to communicate that to other people. I finally figured out the diagnosis myself, patulous eustachian tube. When the tube is normally closed at all times for most people, mine was permanently open.

Well I learned that cauterization of the opening or the building up of scar tissue is one of the primary ways the two or three doctors in the country treat it. Most ENTs had no idea what it was or how to treat it and on top of that i never had insurance of stayed at a job long enough to even afford proper treatment, so I proceeded to use a screw driver to damage the tissue around the hole, which i continued to do for a few years. I couldn't tell if is working, but I continued to do it in moments of extreme anxiety.

Well I'm 28 now and finally my ear is healed. I've wasted years and years of my life in mental agony and hurt a lot of people. I've cheated and lied in a state of sheer mental confusion and psychosis. I'm looking back on all my failings and all the things that have slipped through my fingers all because of such a minuscule things.

People look at me with disappointment telling me how they thought I would be the successful one in the family, but here I am with three suicide attempts, 4 hospitalizations and herpes. I recently found out that I gave my boyfriend herpes as a result of my former promiscuity.

Well that last bit makes me want to die the most. I never wanted to hurt anyone. Now that my ear is healed the world is clear again. I can breath, I can think logically, I'm not in a state of overwhelming stress and confusion.

Take your meds they say. Will the meds make up for a life that could have been? Will the meds make up for all the failings and sadness and years of struggle?

I have no desire to keep living, and all those years I did it for my family. I didn't want them to hurt with my passing and now, now they look at me like I haven't been trying hard enough, that I just need to take my meds and shut up.

I'VE BEEN TRYING HARD THIS WHOLE FUCKING TIME. I've kept myself from jumping off a university tower. I've laid in bed for days at a time listening to that fucking whooshing with every fucking dreaded breath. I did it all for them.

Now I'm stuck with no college degree, 15 jobs that I've quit impulsively, scars all over my body from self-mutilation, years of pity from my peers, guilt for all the pain I've caused and an STD.

I want to die. I want to die so bad. I've resigned myself to working in a fucking grocery store deli and maybe loving in a two bedroom apartment with my cat and some other equally lonely person. I suppose I'll suffer for a few more decades so that my family won't be hurt. I'll stop talking to them all together, but they'll be fine no matter how much I suffer just as long as the family doesn't have to live in the wake of a suicide.

I'm smoking now in hopes that I get mouth cancer. Wish me luck!

I wake up every morning screaming why god? Why me? I was supposed to be something. I was supposed to make it. All I ever wanted to do was help people. I tried to save my money as a kid to put towards a sponsored child in Africa. I just wanted to be empathetic most of all, but instead I was turned into an impulsive monster.

Barely anyone believes me anyway when I tell them why I've been the way I've been for the last 14 years, but what are you going to do? No one really cares about the reasons for suicide. They see it from their perspective. A little bit of elbow grease and therapeutic chatting ought to do it, right?

Submitted February 27, 2016 at 12:42AM by aintitalwaysfunny http://ift.tt/1TccQcm SuicideWatch

Second-worst weekend of my life. SuicideWatch

21m, for what it's worth.

Stop me if you've heard this before - an extremely emotionally fragile, isolated young person, survivor of emotional abuse bordering on enslavement, who escaped all that nonsense but... Not really.

So I'm living in a new city totally on my own, going from abused NEET shut-in to stably-employed individual in about five months, and I'm basically making it, notwithstanding the fact that every single landlord and roommate I've had has fucked me over or stolen significant amounts of my money and property.

Onto this weekend:

Thursday: I get a cold and get kicked out of work. Moderately bad, but not unbearable.

Friday: my soon-to-be former landlord, a smarmy ex-drill sergeant who always carries a gun, states that since I didn't give him 30 days notice before leaving, he's throwing me into a great apartment he has some legal arrangement to occupy for the final ten days of February so he can take a prorated pile of rent money for someone else to take my old room. Against the advice of all two of my friends, I don't have the energy to argue with someone like this and just go along with it. I'm not paying anything after all. Well the arrangement is indeed legal, keycard and key and everything, but the apartment has no refrigerator or microwave or stove. Stress level rising, but I can eat pop tarts and such for a week.

Friday night: I have an extremely vivid and realistic dream about going to a paradisial medical school (I never went to college, which in itself has led to years of shame-and-anxiety spirals) and making something of myself. Then I wake up.

Saturday: I don't leave the house at all. Still in the throes of a cold, so I have skip my work's extremely recommended all-hands training seminar hosted by the VP of Operations.

Sunday: I go hiking on a mountain with my best (and only in-person) friend! It's wonderful and amazing aaaand I realize as we're driving away that I lost the key to that apartment. My friend, bless her heart forever, hikes all the way up the mountain to look for it while I cry and hyperventilate on a bench outside a national park. She doesn't find it. The leasing office is closed on Sunday; I have to skip work yet again tomorrow to get a key cut since my work hours and the office's are identical. I spend the next ten hours crying in a coffee shop while drinking wine and trying and failing to find a place to sleep that's not on my best friend's couch because I'm a fucking loser who imposes upon her too much. Eventually I fall asleep on her couch.

Monday: go to the fucking leasing office where they cut me a key NBD. Call in to work, lying that I still have a cold, and am informed that since I've been fully absent for two consecutive weekdays I need to get a doctor's note. Had I not lost the key on a beautiful activity day of happy fun with friends I would not have had to do any of this. Also, today would have been the day I got employer-sponsored health insurance, but instead, to keep my job I have to go to the ER, get charged $150 for a nurse and a PA to look at me and tell me I have a cold, and print out a word document that will save my job.

Then I look at the paperwork the hospital gives me. And I realize that on a prior visit to this same ER, several months back, I had gotten two different bills in the mail, one legitimate looking (addresses and phone numbers are all local) and one shady (PO Box return addresses in faraway states, weird looking URLs). Being extremely clever, I ignored the higher balance on the latter, thinking I'd spotted a scam. Turns out they were BOTH legitimate bills and I now owe the hospital $330 more than I thought I did, on top of the other old balance I'm still paying off, and that's not even counting today's visit. And that debt is so old it'll soon be sold to a collection agency (who'll ratchet up the balance on it by half) and ruin my barely-existent credit before I can even get to it after rent and food costs.

I have no one. I'm trying to be an adult but it's like forcing myself to crawl through broken glass. Even a minor setback usually sets me off. Today I've been sick with depression. I just want it to stop.

Submitted February 23, 2016 at 05:25AM by ReallyJustBadAtLife http://ift.tt/1oyh4xm SuicideWatch

There's no point in trying anymore SuicideWatch

I've decided that I am officially giving up. I decided this after coming home from college. I attend a top university and I'm surrounded by people from all sorts of backgrounds, but I'm sure I come from one of the worst.

I come home, there's hardly any food in the refrigerator, I have a broken phone that I can't even afford to replace, I need new shoes, and I know that when I go back to my dorm my roommates and hallmates will all have nice new things on top of all the things they needed. I'll have to break it to my engineering group partners that I still don't have a new phone (which they sneer at, because apparently they're too good to communicate via facebook or email) and I'll still walk with shoes that leak water into them. My family is suffering financially and they tell me not to make it my problem but it's becoming my problem. And I'm so busy with school, but I know I'd have to get a job to buy the things I need, and my roommates ask me why I'd ever work when I'm taking 18 credits, but unlike them, I'd have to.

I read articles every day saying that upward mobility is dead and that poor kids become poor adults. There's no point in trying in this day and age. I'll never make it out of this cycle. So instead of succumbing to life, I'm succumbing to myself.

And there's no point in telling me to call the suicide hotlines, because I don't have a phone to do so.

Goodbye.

Submitted November 27, 2015 at 11:07PM by mrednelwme http://ift.tt/1IeFEfE SuicideWatch

I think I should go soon, It's really just too hard to keep going. SuicideWatch

I had the best week I’ve had in recent months and today I decided I’m going to kill myself. I’m still not 100 percent comfortable with the thought, but at the time it felt so clear and right.

I’m getting more and more comfortable with the idea of suicide. I found myself saying “I’m going to do it, I’m going to kill myself,” Like I’m hyping myself up or something. (I mentioned some hypothetical accidental possible ways to die. I think that's against the rules.) If it somehow wasn’t my fault and my parents wouldn’t get mad at me? It would be amazing if it would all just end.

Alternatively, I’m thinking of running away and building something somewhere else. Just leave everyone and everything and not come back until I’m better. But then It would just be me. I just can’t face them, I just don’t want to exist anymore. I just want to start over, just be anything else other than me.

I spent the week with my boyfriend in his home several states away. It was really great. I loved holding him. I loved the smell of his hair when he laid on me, it was really beautiful. I suspect he’s grateful I’m gone though. I shared some of my thoughts with him through texts and he replied with one word messages and kisses. I think he’s glad I’m gone. I think he likes the distance from his crazy girlfriend, I think he’s glad he doesn’t have to be there for me in any real way.

I came home and my mother immediately asked me for food and money, $15. She had borrowed money from my brother for her Parkinson’s medication, she was diagnosed last week, and my sister-in-law pulled that $15 from her babysitting fund. My SIL started college this week and needed that money to put towards daycare. I don’t have any money, I’m in the negatives in my bank account after that trip, but I looked around my room and found some dimes and nickels I had rolled up a few months ago. She needed it quick, so I drove over there immediately, still all gross from traveling, and gave her $15 in nickels and dimes. My SIL told me I was getting thicker. She hoped she didn’t offend me, but she didn’t want me to get lazy. My niece was there. I gave her a souvenir and gave her a kiss and hug. I asked her if she loved me and she said no. She’s 3. I know she’s just a baby but it hurt so badly. I feel like I’m a huge joke, and my brother and his wife are in on it and they don’t actually care about me and the baby is just too young to know she’s supposed to play along. I told her I loved her soooooooo much. She’s just a baby, there’s no way she knew she was breaking my heart. A baby being contrary shouldn’t have the power to crush me.

I haven’t gained any weight on paper, but I do think I’ve been looking grosser. I lost a baby in the spring, very early in the pregnancy. I was raped by someone I considered a close friend a week later. I’ve been doing my best to keep it together. I’ve seen doctors and have started therapy. I’m a veteran, and I’m poor and the VA is all I have for care. I feel like I have a new diagnosis or just new category they throw me in each time I go. Anxiety. Depression. OCD. Military Sexual Trauma. PTSD. On top of my ADHD. They even said something about alcohol abuse, and that’s a huge fucking joke because I barely drink. I keep beer so long in my refrigerator I throw it away. I still have liquor I bought years ago. I only drink with friends and after what happened I’ve only drank once. They’ve been seeing me for like 4 months, how can I have like 10 things when I’ve only seen my doctor a handful of times? I dread going over there every time, but I keep going because each time I hope that this time maybe they’ll help me. I mean. They’re the experts, right? They have to know how to fix me. I can’t be the only veteran who has come to them like this. Then again, when I went to them after I was raped they sent me from the clinic, to the big hospital over an hour drive away, and that hospital couldn’t do a rape kit, so I was sent to the city hospital next to my house. So maybe they can’t fix me. Maybe if you’re not a shell shocked young man the VA can’t fix you. I’ve been honest with every healthcare professional I’ve seen. I also see somebody through my college, he’s great but I only started seeing him a few weeks ago. I’m trying to be better, but I just wish it was over.

I haven’t drank since I was assaulted but I drank my last day with my boyfriend. We had sex, and right after he was worried about his daughter (3) and left to go check on her and I just felt gross like my skin just felt gross and I was worried he felt it, he saw how gross I was and that he didn’t want me and had been looking for an excuse to leave. My skin felt so gross. He was trying to talk to me, trying to tell me everything was ok, but I had to go shower and wash my hair. I think the alcohol made it harder for me to hide my worries. My hand kept moving around all weird like. I don’t know what that was all about. It stopped after I showered. I had great sex with him all week but that last time I was sure he could feel how gross I am. Even if he didn’t I freaked out so bad that I’m sure he’s just glad it’s over and he doesn’t have to deal with me anymore. I wish I could just ship me back home. I wish I communicated with me almost solely through texts and didn’t have to deal with me. Why would he want this sad woman around his sweet little daughter? My sister in law saw me for a second and she saw how gross I am.

If I die, my mom would not be okay. My father already lost his oldest daughter when she was 18. Should he really lose his youngest at 26? I would be leaving my big brother all alone. How did my family get so unlucky that the youngest is so weak and disgusting? I think it would be better for my bf if I go. I wish I could just disappear. I don’t think I’m ever going to feel better. I really wish I would die.

I’ve been thinking of ways to do it. (I listed a bunch of ways but I think that’s against the rules.) My family could imagine I just ran away. I used to runaway a lot as a teenager.

I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop thinking about how I should just die. I’m stuck in this loop and honestly, I cried the whole time I wrote this until I wrote the part of the ways I might kill myself. I know this is ranty. I know this is disorganized. I can’t bring myself to read it all again to fix it. I just want to die and nobody can fix me.

Submitted August 25, 2015 at 05:10AM by throw_it_all_away14 http://ift.tt/1JhA35n SuicideWatch

Hot sauce saved me from committing suicide SuicideWatch

Throwaway because my real identity can be easily traced on my main account.

I'm 28yrs old. For the last 9 years, I'm a shut-in who have only left my house less than 10 times. Before that, I had a girlfriend (whom I was with for more than 5yrs) and numerous friends. I was happy, until I found out that my girlfriend was having sex with someone else and I also found out that my "friends" had been stealing from me and were just using me. I found out that they were all talking bad about me behind my back.

I've never gotten around to trusting anyone again after that ordeal. Before I knew it, I lost any interest in going outside or in meeting people. In 9 years, I have never talked to anyone else in person other than my parents.

I was content in just staying in my room playing piano, videogames, or surfing the net. Often I'll get to see something in my newsfeed about news of murder, robberies, idiotic celebrities, accidents, all of which only makes me want to never go outside even more.

I'm really grateful to my parents who have left me with all the resources to make myself comfortable. However, thinking about it only made me extremely depressed as I don't think I'll ever meet their expectations nor I will ever be more than just a shut-in. I began contemplating suicide a long time ago. I never thought of looking for a "suicide helpline" because I knew that nothing could change my mind. I was already decided that I will commit suicide.

Last month when I finally said to myself that this is the day to commit suicide, I decided to have a last meal before saying goodbye. I found some leftovers and was about to eat but I saw a bottle of hot sauce in the refrigerator and thought to try it before dying. Nothing to lose anyway.

Some time after eating, it hit me. I was feeling happy and giggly without any reason. All thoughts of committing suicide disappeared from me. I then realized that what I was experiencing was an endorphin rush from consuming hot sauce. I genuinely felt like a fool for even thinking about committing suicide.

After that I realized a little bit what was wrong with me. I began taking anti-depressants soon after that and my mood and attitude towards life has dramatically improved.

My current lifestyle is a long away from being fixed but at least I'm not suicidal anymore.

Submitted August 17, 2015 at 11:02AM by savedbyhotsauce http://ift.tt/1KqCzUC SuicideWatch

Hot sauce saved me from committing suicide SuicideWatch

Throwaway because my real identity can be easily traced on my main account.

I'm 28yrs old. For the last 9 years, I'm a shut-in who have only left my house less than 10 times. Before that, I had a girlfriend (whom I was with for more than 5yrs) and numerous friends. I was happy, until I found out that my girlfriend was having sex with someone else and I also found out that my "friends" had been stealing from me and were just using me. I found out that they were all talking bad about me behind my back.

I've never gotten around to trusting anyone again after that ordeal. Before I knew it, I lost any interest in going outside or in meeting people. In 9 years, I have never talked to anyone else in person other than my parents.

I was content in just staying in my room playing piano, videogames, or surfing the net. Often I'll get to see something in my newsfeed about news of murder, robberies, idiotic celebrities, accidents, all of which only makes me want to never go outside even more.

I'm really grateful to my parents who have left me with all the resources to make myself comfortable. However, thinking about it only made me extremely depressed as I don't think I'll ever meet their expectations nor I will ever be more than just a shut-in. I began contemplating suicide a long time ago. I never thought of looking for a "suicide helpline" because I knew that nothing could change my mind. I was already decided that I will commit suicide.

Last month when I finally said to myself that this is the day to commit suicide, I decided to have a last meal before saying goodbye. I found some leftovers and was about to eat but I saw a bottle of hot sauce in the refrigerator and thought to try it before dying. Nothing to lose anyway.

Some time after eating, it hit me. I was feeling happy and giggly without any reason. All thoughts of committing suicide disappeared from me. I then realized that what I was experiencing was an endorphin rush from consuming hot sauce. I genuinely felt like a fool for even thinking about committing suicide.

After that I realized a little bit what was wrong with me. I began taking anti-depressants soon after that and my mood and attitude towards life has dramatically improved.

My current lifestyle is a long away from being fixed but at least I'm not suicidal anymore.

Submitted August 17, 2015 at 11:02AM by savedbyhotsauce http://ift.tt/1KqCzUC SuicideWatch

Only one person in the world loves me. I've lost my child and everyone I know actually hates me. I never should have been born and I think it's time for me to just give up. SuicideWatch

I can't take it anymore. I'm so tired.

I lost my child 8 years ago, his dad took him away and then treated me like shit, tried to stop me from seeing him, succeeded in stopping me from seeing him. He took him and moved hundreds of miles away. And I had no family or anyone to help me.

Then I became homeless after the person I was living with held me hostage in our apartment after a drug binge.

That fucking sentence is fucking true. Jesus fucking christ, how can I survive all this shit that keeps happening to me?

I later found out I had lost the visa for the country I was living in. Where my son is. I worked illegally at whatever jobs I could find, and slept on my friends floor for three months.

I slept on a floor for three months. I got offered a job but couldn't take it because of my visa status, so I kept working illegally and sleeping on the floor. and my son's father kept coming after me for money. I was sleeping on the floor and working illegally. When I would see my son I would buy him things and go to nice places just so we could have some time together and he wouldn't see the horribleness of where I was living. But he saw. He saw it all.

Then I got evicted from the floor. I had to move to a house with no working refrigerator, where there were drunk people coming and going at all hours because. I had to leave my friend's floor/house because her mother was coming over. And I was a burden. I had no one. I should have killed myself then.

But I didn't.

I lost my child. My son's father kept hounding me for money, and I was sleeping on people's floors and working illegal jobs.

I lost my child. And my life. but i just kept trying to keep from falling apart. This lasted for years. It hasn't stopped.

My son's father has hated me the entire time he's known me. When our son was a baby, he told me he wanted me to start paying for my own food, which I thought was really bizarre. I thought he wanted to marry me and have a baby. Because that's what he said. But I didn't see it was a lie.

Everyone lies to me.

All he ever wanted me to do was kill myself. That's all he ever wanted me to do. now my child won't speak ot me, he's thousands of miles away and his dad hijacked his skype and email and pretended to be him. I even have the screenshots! He came on my son's skype and pretended to be him!

Why am I not dead yet? Why am I still alive.

His dad has always hated me. He even sent me a message telling me that he never wanted to marry me and never wanted to have our child! He lied to me the whole time. He had bipolar and I thought he was okay but he was just pretending the whole time, the entire time we were together.

I"m remarried now. And he's the nicest guy in the world and he doesn't deserve this shit. But I"m too weak, I'm too weak to be alive. I couldn't even leave the house six months ago. but i'm too weak to survive this shit.

and I want to die now.

i'm utterly useless. I can't work because of depression, but that's not a 'real' disability so everyone hates me.

And I hate myself, too.

It's all caught up with me. I can't take it anymore. I can't take the pain anymore. I"m not supposed to be here.

I was sleeping on my friend's floor for 3 months.

when my son came to visit I had to take him to the park down teh road because I didn't have a real house. And I want to ki, actually, I just want to die.

But my husband loves me, and I"m so confused.

I'm such a burden to him.

I woke up this morning and for a split second, I thought it was my son's father in the kitchen.

He hated me the entire time we were together and when we split he took my child. I had nothing. I had no ID, no drivers license, no passport, no bank account and a job that paid barely enough to cover the babysitter. So i let him take my child. and he went hundreds of miles away and i couldn't stop him and he said I couldn't come near him.

He took my child and moved hundreds of miles away, and told me to stay away. I didn't kill myself then,

I didn't kill myself then

but i want to kill myself now.

I hate this world. It's too evil and I"m too weak to fight it.

what sucks is I'm religious. I'm just too weak and broken to live anymore.

everyone I know betrays me. everyone I know hates me. everyone I know thinks I'm a burden, everyone I know thinks I'm scum and they have no idea what I've been through.

and my family is for shit.

absolute shite.

my husband is the nicest man you'll ever know, but I'm not strong enough to be in this world anymore. I can't stand the hatred. I can't stand the pain.

I've been running from these memories but something always happens. and my son's father won. and I think dying is the best idea. because I"m nothing, I'm scum. I"m too weak to be alive.

I'm just too weak. The only thing that gives me comfort is telling the truth about this.

I HATE myself. I just want to slip away. everyone betrays me. and i'm too weak to fight this world.

and i'm trying to figure out how to do it so it looks like an accident but jesus fucking christ I can't hurt my husband like that.

I feel like i'm in a coma and everyone just needs to say goodbye and let me get off life support.

Submitted May 09, 2015 at 03:23PM by Idontlovethem http://ift.tt/1InE5Lj SuicideWatch

Too much for me to handle. SuicideWatch

Today part of my house collapsed. I found out while I was at work. I have two court dates coming up, and I had a meeting with the DA this morning. I found out my abusive ex got a good lawyer, and the case will probably be thrown out on a technicality. So after hearing this news I went back to the office. Found out one of my supervisors stole money from a grant to fund my project. More than half the grant money gone. The past 6 months of work now pointless, and my whole organization is likely going to be investigated and shut down. And I thought she was my friend. So I was reeling from those two disasters and then I got a text message from my neighbor. He thought I already knew. I drove up the hill right away and saw the devastation. Shattered glass, strewn insulation, woodwork in splinters.

And I have to go to court tomorrow. With my free charity lawyer, while my ex has hired a smarmy asshole in a suit.

And now I've counted all the pills in my house. 24 nighttime cold and sinus pills. 30 Adderall XR. 3 Wellbutrin XL. 13 ibuprofen. 23 Tylenol. Half a large bottle of vitamin D3. Got a bottle of wine too. If I had a gun that would leave less room for a failed attempt, but I don't. I guess there's always that little foot bridge over the falls.

I'm not going to do it tonight, but they're there for when court goes horribly tomorrow. I know. I have reasons to live. I drew them up on my refrigerator. I have a kid. I have a cause. I have skills. I have activities I love doing. I have family and friends. And right now I just want the agony to stop. I can't handle anymore devastating curveballs life loves to throw at me. I just can't do it. My family will take good care of my daughter, raise her far away from this hellhole I am trapped in. She'll have access to a good school and dental care, live in a house that is still standing.

I give up. I want out. I just want the pain to stop.

Submitted March 12, 2015 at 09:01AM by Zakiahthewolf http://ift.tt/1Bte491 SuicideWatch

Pathetic unfulfilled wasted potential. SuicideWatch

I have a roof over my head and food in the refrigerator. I have people who love me. None of this makes me feel better about what I have lost and what I have never had. There is always a struggle. There is always the emptiness. To be 33 with nothing to my name. No career. No savings. No partner. Never a partner. My friends get married, divorced and remarried. I've never heard "I love you." Not once. It just falls into their fucking laps. Everyone's used to me being the one with no one. If someone did love me they'd be shocked. Something is inherently wrong inside. It was always there. Even when I was a kid I knew I was a bad, jealous person. I wanted what others had. Was never pretty enough. Always got funny looks for saying the wrong thing. Always felt out of place even among friends. I can't even kill myself because I'll leave a helpless parent behind. Maybe we'd both be better off gone.

Submitted February 07, 2015 at 12:33PM by unlovablewoman http://ift.tt/1zr8ToM SuicideWatch