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 Posted: Fri May 10, 2013 1:06 pm
I really needed to talk for a bit, partly so that I don't go (any more) insane, and partly, I think, so that anyone else in the guild going through similar stuff can know they're not alone. I'm hoping this is the right place to put it.
Also, trigger warning for self-harmers, although I'm sticking only to basic detail that I feel is important.
I'm not going to go into a long history because we'll be here forever - but for a while now, especially over the last two years, I have been suffering from severe depression. I have no confidence in my personality, and I'm beginning to lose what confidence I have in my body. That's especially an issue because I'm already classed as underweight and, when depressed I tend to lose my appetite and also deny myself food to punish myself, which brings on thoughts of wanting to vomit sometimes because I'm so angry with myself, or wanting to count calories to get some control.
As it is, I self-harm. I'm trying to stop, but it's difficult. It used to just be scratching myself with my fingernails. Then it moved onto safety pins, which hurt but didn't break the skin and faded completely. Since February, I've moved onto razors. I've been trying to quit, and recently I managed 22 days without it, but I broke and I've done it twice since then, much deeper
I am also suicidal. It started off as one day where I just felt the need to die, and actively planned for it, but that went away. Various events in my life since then though - dumped by someone I love, deserted by friends, realised my mother makes me a lot worse - have made the thoughts come back. Now, it's been months since I seriously considered the possibility of dying of old age. I have plans for my death (not imminent, in a few years because of various things). I don't really look when I cross the road. There was a time a few months ago when I very half-heartedly tried to suffocate myself (there was no planning involved, I was just lying wrapped in my duvet and thought 'if I block out the air I won't be able to breathe' and then I actually forgot I was doing it).
I've been in therapy in the past, and I'm edging towards re-referring to my old psychologist, but I'm terrified of going because I know it's so likely I'll keep lying to him.
I have maybe two friends I can rely on to be there for me as well, and none of them live near me, and both have their own severe problems so I worry about setting them off, too. The 'friends' I have at school have made it very obvious recently that they are not going to offer any support when I feel bad. Over the last week or two they've been ignoring me when I try to input into conversations, and generally not even acknowledging my presence. Today proved it, because I spent most of today crying because I felt that bad, and not one of them even said hi to me, even though I was sat right next to them, shaking because I was trying to keep quiet. I've known these people for six years. I was in Florida for three weeks with one of them last summer. The other one has an eating disorder that I noticed before he even told me because I PAY ATTENTION TO MY FRIENDS and I told him I'd always help him, and I told him loads of places to get professional help, and sat for hours talking to him about ways to try and alter his self-perception.
Every single time I've needed him, he's deserted me. The night after my boyfriend dumped me, he was going to come round and sit with me for the evening. Texted me half an hour before he was due to turn up and just said he was going to his nana's for tea instead (and that's not like a big deal event for him, his nana's not sick or far away or anything). The times I've tried to talk to him about my depression just because I needed to vent, he's gone 'ewww' and made me change the subject, even though he's very happy to be uber-supportive of his boyfriend (who, frankly, is bad for my 'friend's self-esteem, because he frequently flirts with his exes, uses his own mental health problems to guilt trip him for no reason whatsoever, and has introduced him to a whole new circle of people who place more importance on physical appearance and superficial things than anything else) who he's known for less than a year.
All this week I've been blatantly feeling terrible, and none of my friends have even said hi to me unless I take part in their delusion that I'm ok - and they know I'm not, they know I've seen a psychologist, they know that I have a lot of trouble asking for help when I need it - which is just . . . it makes me feel worse. I've been feeling so alone and scared lately, and all I can think about is that the only people who've made eye contact with me recently are teachers, and I haven't had a proper hug in at least two weeks. I don't know where to turn and I'm losing all motivation to try and get better or even stop myself getting worse.
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Posted: Sat May 11, 2013 5:44 pm
Your friends don't sound like they're being very good friends. But it is possible that they just don't know what to say or do.
I recommend reading this http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2013/05/depression-part-two.html because:
1. I love Hyperbole and a Half and
2. If what she describes is kind of how you're feeling, then you can share the blog with family and friends to maybe help them understand or break the ice
Have you ever tried a suicide hotline? The people answering the phones are trained volunteers who genuinely want to help. And sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger over the phone than it is to talk to someone you know face to face. Definitely call them, 911, or someone you can trust if you ever feel like you're really going to harm yourself. http://suicidehotlines.com/
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Posted: Sun May 12, 2013 10:22 am
LorienLlewellyn Your friends don't sound like they're being very good friends. But it is possible that they just don't know what to say or do. I recommend reading this http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2013/05/depression-part-two.html because: 1. I love Hyperbole and a Half and 2. If what she describes is kind of how you're feeling, then you can share the blog with family and friends to maybe help them understand or break the ice Have you ever tried a suicide hotline? The people answering the phones are trained volunteers who genuinely want to help. And sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger over the phone than it is to talk to someone you know face to face. Definitely call them, 911, or someone you can trust if you ever feel like you're really going to harm yourself. http://suicidehotlines.com/ Haha, I read that one when it came out. I want to show it to quite a lot of people. The thing is that I can't show it to my family, I can't. I have tried explaining how I feel in a very simple way, and they don't get it. My dad is the nearest to it, because he has told me he will never say "I understand how you feel". My mum is never going to understand it. Before I ended up breaking down, she came home after a night out once to find me crying, and I explained how I felt to her, and we talked about it for an hour. She completely forgot there was anything wrong the next day. She thinks I'm not depressed anymore and assumes that whenever I show symptoms of it it's just isolated incidents that I do to annoy her. She frequently insults me as well, which shows that she either has no idea what depression is about, or does and continues to do it for fun. She said there's no way I can really have a mental health condition because there is 'no history of mental health issues in our family'. 1) My uncle Ian, who lives in Australia, has PTSD, was previously depressed and is living in sheltered housing because he tried to kill himself. 2) My dad's biological father attempted suicide with a friend. 3) Just last night my nana mentioned that one of her brothers had a continuing problem with alcoholism and drug addiction for several years. I have considered talking to suicide hotlines, but the idea doesn't appeal to me at all. I don't want to sit there talking with them because I know they're just going to say 'life is worth it, life is worth it' and that's not true. I have absolutely no reason to keep living and people lying through their teeth makes it all worse. And plus, I have no privacy. There's no room I can go to where I won't be overheard, and I can't sneak outside because I'll still be heard. I get that they might not know what to say, but all I want is for my social group - I'm not going to call them friends - to actually acknowledge my existence. And I know some of them do. One of them has mentioned being depressed herself, and another who's new to the school was hospitalised for it, but when I went with her to a gig purely so that she could go to see it, she spent the whole evening being so horrible to me that I broke down in tears, and then told people I'd been crying for no reason.
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Posted: Mon May 13, 2013 2:45 am
I can't read all of your post, because I go on "overload". But I will address the first half:
Been there, done that, and thankful to be still alive.
No, it wasn't easy. I do my best to remove myself from that world that I used to know. The one that you are describing is me at best, many years back. Severe Depression, Anorexia, Bulimia, Self-Injury, Suicide Attempts. Crap, it feels like another life. In a lot of ways, it is.
I can't exactly tell you how to go from that this this, but I can say what people told me all along: It DOES get better. I don't know how the hell how, but it does. As you age, something clicks. I talk to fellow survivors, and we can only figure that something deep down within us wants to live so bad. We just *got* to survive.
I'm supposed to be dead by the way. I'm not even supposed to be here. But I dragged my sorry a** into the ER, and asked for help.
s**t happens, and we don't know why. We brutalize our own bodies, torment ourselves, abuse ourselves. We punish ourselves, and it goes on and on until one day you ask yourself, "why?"
I decided, there won't be a next time, where I let someone abuse me. I will kill them. I had nearly killed myself multiple times because some a-hole used my body for his likings. Rather than going after that creeper, I punished ME.
There's something deep inside me that went, "Why am I do this? When it's that guy who did this?"
So anyways...I used those methods to cope, punish, destroy, till I realized that I didn't have to. Now, I just do my best to survive.
You'll find what works. You gotta find someone who can listen. You gotta figure out what's the root of all of this. For me: it was rape. x2. I didn't deal with it. Then I exploded.
I absolutely believe that you can climb out of any hole that you fall into, and get back up.
So please, find someone to talk to, to vent to, get it figured out. You're worth it.
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Posted: Mon May 13, 2013 10:02 am
I do kind of want to be able to pick myself up and fight back, but the thing is that at the moment I can't, I'm seriously too close to breaking point to manage it. I couldn't get out of bed until five pm yesterday because I couldn't bear the thought of being awake. I just don't have the strength left to do anything, and venting is what drove everyone away.
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Posted: Tue May 14, 2013 2:53 am
Voldeturtle I do kind of want to be able to pick myself up and fight back, but the thing is that at the moment I can't, I'm seriously too close to breaking point to manage it. I couldn't get out of bed until five pm yesterday because I couldn't bear the thought of being awake. I just don't have the strength left to do anything, and venting is what drove everyone away. That's why there's the whole pay-per-vent. Aka Therapist. Lots of them are on a sliding scale, then if you are a student, there's the freebees at the health clinic. If not, then there are toll free numbers. I especially like The Trevor Project. You don't have to be LGBT youth, because they are cool with helping anyone. I mean, I'd rather talk to someone who doesn't judging a questioning person than someone who just specializes in one particular thing. I know about the whole ''barely existing thing". I did it for a few years. A lot of it dealt with my own personal identity crisis. I had to quit comparing myself to those around me, because I would continue to feel sub par. I had to learn to quit being a people pleaser, and work up a nerve to speak up for myself. I still struggle with it. But I've learned that you GOT to just do it or else you will keep playing the same scenarios over and over in your head, and nothing changes. So right now you will sleep. That's ok. It's where you are now. For Ellie, it was a kernal on the kitchen floor. For me, it was becoming increasingly tired of binging and purging. I had my head in the toilet one day, and went "this really sucks". The great fun and excitement that bulimia provided just died that day. It bored the ******** out of me. Just like cutting did, and all of the other addictions that I dabbled in. Then you find yourself with your head in the toilet, and you start laughing. You see a kernal and you start laughing. You stare at the wall, and some of those half dead brain cells do something unexpected. I can't say what your eureka point will be. But all the crap now will seem utterly ridiculous, and you won't know what it is, but it will be funny. Then you'll cry about it. Be exhausted about it, and then you will be changed. So one day at a time.
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Posted: Tue May 14, 2013 6:51 am
Nadira Voldeturtle I do kind of want to be able to pick myself up and fight back, but the thing is that at the moment I can't, I'm seriously too close to breaking point to manage it. I couldn't get out of bed until five pm yesterday because I couldn't bear the thought of being awake. I just don't have the strength left to do anything, and venting is what drove everyone away. That's why there's the whole pay-per-vent. Aka Therapist. Lots of them are on a sliding scale, then if you are a student, there's the freebees at the health clinic. If not, then there are toll free numbers. I especially like The Trevor Project. You don't have to be LGBT youth, because they are cool with helping anyone. I mean, I'd rather talk to someone who doesn't judging a questioning person than someone who just specializes in one particular thing. I know about the whole ''barely existing thing". I did it for a few years. A lot of it dealt with my own personal identity crisis. I had to quit comparing myself to those around me, because I would continue to feel sub par. I had to learn to quit being a people pleaser, and work up a nerve to speak up for myself. I still struggle with it. But I've learned that you GOT to just do it or else you will keep playing the same scenarios over and over in your head, and nothing changes. So right now you will sleep. That's ok. It's where you are now. For Ellie, it was a kernal on the kitchen floor. For me, it was becoming increasingly tired of binging and purging. I had my head in the toilet one day, and went "this really sucks". The great fun and excitement that bulimia provided just died that day. It bored the ******** out of me. Just like cutting did, and all of the other addictions that I dabbled in. Then you find yourself with your head in the toilet, and you start laughing. You see a kernal and you start laughing. You stare at the wall, and some of those half dead brain cells do something unexpected. I can't say what your eureka point will be. But all the crap now will seem utterly ridiculous, and you won't know what it is, but it will be funny. Then you'll cry about it. Be exhausted about it, and then you will be changed. So one day at a time. I sort of have a therapist, a guy called Phil. A day after my meltdown at school I was booked in to see him. He was nice, but I have this horrible fear of disappointing people, so I kept telling him that I was feeling better and that I hadn't cut myself when I was really just doing it more and more, and I think he knew that, which is why he let me go. I'm supposed to be self-referring again, but I'm too scared to do it.
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Posted: Wed May 15, 2013 2:30 am
Voldeturtle Nadira Voldeturtle I do kind of want to be able to pick myself up and fight back, but the thing is that at the moment I can't, I'm seriously too close to breaking point to manage it. I couldn't get out of bed until five pm yesterday because I couldn't bear the thought of being awake. I just don't have the strength left to do anything, and venting is what drove everyone away. That's why there's the whole pay-per-vent. Aka Therapist. Lots of them are on a sliding scale, then if you are a student, there's the freebees at the health clinic. If not, then there are toll free numbers. I especially like The Trevor Project. You don't have to be LGBT youth, because they are cool with helping anyone. I mean, I'd rather talk to someone who doesn't judging a questioning person than someone who just specializes in one particular thing. I know about the whole ''barely existing thing". I did it for a few years. A lot of it dealt with my own personal identity crisis. I had to quit comparing myself to those around me, because I would continue to feel sub par. I had to learn to quit being a people pleaser, and work up a nerve to speak up for myself. I still struggle with it. But I've learned that you GOT to just do it or else you will keep playing the same scenarios over and over in your head, and nothing changes. So right now you will sleep. That's ok. It's where you are now. For Ellie, it was a kernal on the kitchen floor. For me, it was becoming increasingly tired of binging and purging. I had my head in the toilet one day, and went "this really sucks". The great fun and excitement that bulimia provided just died that day. It bored the ******** out of me. Just like cutting did, and all of the other addictions that I dabbled in. Then you find yourself with your head in the toilet, and you start laughing. You see a kernal and you start laughing. You stare at the wall, and some of those half dead brain cells do something unexpected. I can't say what your eureka point will be. But all the crap now will seem utterly ridiculous, and you won't know what it is, but it will be funny. Then you'll cry about it. Be exhausted about it, and then you will be changed. So one day at a time. I sort of have a therapist, a guy called Phil. A day after my meltdown at school I was booked in to see him. He was nice, but I have this horrible fear of disappointing people, so I kept telling him that I was feeling better and that I hadn't cut myself when I was really just doing it more and more, and I think he knew that, which is why he let me go. I'm supposed to be self-referring again, but I'm too scared to do it. I gotcha. I don't like letting people around me knowing about what I went through. Or even when I was going through it. I was even living in the hospital, and taking a night class at one point in my life. I never told the school about my situation. I never told the instructor. I just accepted the role of being the student who "didn't read all of the homework" or "know all of the answers". I was always nervous in the class, and it was partly because the hospital program wouldn't let me study for the class, and would threaten me with lock down if I didn't do XY and Z. When I was in class, I would take off my hospital bracelet, and hide it. I had to make up stories about why I didn't finish an assignment or why I didn't finish the reading. I'm usually a very honest person, but I had to be very quiet. So my written exams always suffered, because the more nervous I am, the more self conscious I get, the more my dyslexic tendencies happen. And, my instructor asked me about it. I had to make up a story. I luckily finished the last half of the class outside of the hospital. I was able to get my grade up. So, I know what you mean about chewing in the insides, and having to put up a false front on the outside. I really do. I had another class when I was in outpatient, and my instructor figured out that there was something going on with me. She never asked me, but in the class, she asked all of the right questions when we discussed topics that were dead on to why I was hospitalized. She was careful, and if I didn't want to answer, she would move the class right along, before anyone noticed. Getting it out there is difficult. I've been through many therapists in my life. And, when you aren't comfortable, you don't want their help. But if you feel that you can trust Phil, talk to him. Speak up. I wish that I spoke up more early on, instead of beating around the bush. Maybe I would have gotten help a lot earlier, and it would have saved me some grief. And maybe the right authorities would have been called, and the campus predators caught. I didn't speak up for over a year. So I don't know how many other girls were raped after me. He got away with it with me. He was cool as a cucumber. I probably wasn't the first. He could be still doing it for all I know. I reported it over a year later. After multiple suicide attempts. So if you feel that you can trust Phil, and he can be of use to you. Talk to him. Talking is better than doing nothing. I can tell you, I've done it, and it sucks. Silence kills.
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Posted: Wed May 15, 2013 12:42 pm
Nadira Voldeturtle Nadira Voldeturtle I do kind of want to be able to pick myself up and fight back, but the thing is that at the moment I can't, I'm seriously too close to breaking point to manage it. I couldn't get out of bed until five pm yesterday because I couldn't bear the thought of being awake. I just don't have the strength left to do anything, and venting is what drove everyone away. That's why there's the whole pay-per-vent. Aka Therapist. Lots of them are on a sliding scale, then if you are a student, there's the freebees at the health clinic. If not, then there are toll free numbers. I especially like The Trevor Project. You don't have to be LGBT youth, because they are cool with helping anyone. I mean, I'd rather talk to someone who doesn't judging a questioning person than someone who just specializes in one particular thing. I know about the whole ''barely existing thing". I did it for a few years. A lot of it dealt with my own personal identity crisis. I had to quit comparing myself to those around me, because I would continue to feel sub par. I had to learn to quit being a people pleaser, and work up a nerve to speak up for myself. I still struggle with it. But I've learned that you GOT to just do it or else you will keep playing the same scenarios over and over in your head, and nothing changes. So right now you will sleep. That's ok. It's where you are now. For Ellie, it was a kernal on the kitchen floor. For me, it was becoming increasingly tired of binging and purging. I had my head in the toilet one day, and went "this really sucks". The great fun and excitement that bulimia provided just died that day. It bored the ******** out of me. Just like cutting did, and all of the other addictions that I dabbled in. Then you find yourself with your head in the toilet, and you start laughing. You see a kernal and you start laughing. You stare at the wall, and some of those half dead brain cells do something unexpected. I can't say what your eureka point will be. But all the crap now will seem utterly ridiculous, and you won't know what it is, but it will be funny. Then you'll cry about it. Be exhausted about it, and then you will be changed. So one day at a time. I sort of have a therapist, a guy called Phil. A day after my meltdown at school I was booked in to see him. He was nice, but I have this horrible fear of disappointing people, so I kept telling him that I was feeling better and that I hadn't cut myself when I was really just doing it more and more, and I think he knew that, which is why he let me go. I'm supposed to be self-referring again, but I'm too scared to do it. I gotcha. I don't like letting people around me knowing about what I went through. Or even when I was going through it. I was even living in the hospital, and taking a night class at one point in my life. I never told the school about my situation. I never told the instructor. I just accepted the role of being the student who "didn't read all of the homework" or "know all of the answers". I was always nervous in the class, and it was partly because the hospital program wouldn't let me study for the class, and would threaten me with lock down if I didn't do XY and Z. When I was in class, I would take off my hospital bracelet, and hide it. I had to make up stories about why I didn't finish an assignment or why I didn't finish the reading. I'm usually a very honest person, but I had to be very quiet. So my written exams always suffered, because the more nervous I am, the more self conscious I get, the more my dyslexic tendencies happen. And, my instructor asked me about it. I had to make up a story. I luckily finished the last half of the class outside of the hospital. I was able to get my grade up. So, I know what you mean about chewing in the insides, and having to put up a false front on the outside. I really do. I had another class when I was in outpatient, and my instructor figured out that there was something going on with me. She never asked me, but in the class, she asked all of the right questions when we discussed topics that were dead on to why I was hospitalized. She was careful, and if I didn't want to answer, she would move the class right along, before anyone noticed. Getting it out there is difficult. I've been through many therapists in my life. And, when you aren't comfortable, you don't want their help. But if you feel that you can trust Phil, talk to him. Speak up. I wish that I spoke up more early on, instead of beating around the bush. Maybe I would have gotten help a lot earlier, and it would have saved me some grief. And maybe the right authorities would have been called, and the campus predators caught. I didn't speak up for over a year. So I don't know how many other girls were raped after me. He got away with it with me. He was cool as a cucumber. I probably wasn't the first. He could be still doing it for all I know. I reported it over a year later. After multiple suicide attempts. So if you feel that you can trust Phil, and he can be of use to you. Talk to him. Talking is better than doing nothing. I can tell you, I've done it, and it sucks. Silence kills. can't do anything anymore. don't know how to speak. don't trust myself to speak. can barely get out of bed. just can't. don't want to be here. don't want to be awake. completely deserted. everybody hates me.
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Posted: Wed May 15, 2013 3:28 pm
Voldeturtle Nadira Voldeturtle Nadira Voldeturtle I do kind of want to be able to pick myself up and fight back, but the thing is that at the moment I can't, I'm seriously too close to breaking point to manage it. I couldn't get out of bed until five pm yesterday because I couldn't bear the thought of being awake. I just don't have the strength left to do anything, and venting is what drove everyone away. That's why there's the whole pay-per-vent. Aka Therapist. Lots of them are on a sliding scale, then if you are a student, there's the freebees at the health clinic. If not, then there are toll free numbers. I especially like The Trevor Project. You don't have to be LGBT youth, because they are cool with helping anyone. I mean, I'd rather talk to someone who doesn't judging a questioning person than someone who just specializes in one particular thing. I know about the whole ''barely existing thing". I did it for a few years. A lot of it dealt with my own personal identity crisis. I had to quit comparing myself to those around me, because I would continue to feel sub par. I had to learn to quit being a people pleaser, and work up a nerve to speak up for myself. I still struggle with it. But I've learned that you GOT to just do it or else you will keep playing the same scenarios over and over in your head, and nothing changes. So right now you will sleep. That's ok. It's where you are now. For Ellie, it was a kernal on the kitchen floor. For me, it was becoming increasingly tired of binging and purging. I had my head in the toilet one day, and went "this really sucks". The great fun and excitement that bulimia provided just died that day. It bored the ******** out of me. Just like cutting did, and all of the other addictions that I dabbled in. Then you find yourself with your head in the toilet, and you start laughing. You see a kernal and you start laughing. You stare at the wall, and some of those half dead brain cells do something unexpected. I can't say what your eureka point will be. But all the crap now will seem utterly ridiculous, and you won't know what it is, but it will be funny. Then you'll cry about it. Be exhausted about it, and then you will be changed. So one day at a time. I sort of have a therapist, a guy called Phil. A day after my meltdown at school I was booked in to see him. He was nice, but I have this horrible fear of disappointing people, so I kept telling him that I was feeling better and that I hadn't cut myself when I was really just doing it more and more, and I think he knew that, which is why he let me go. I'm supposed to be self-referring again, but I'm too scared to do it. I gotcha. I don't like letting people around me knowing about what I went through. Or even when I was going through it. I was even living in the hospital, and taking a night class at one point in my life. I never told the school about my situation. I never told the instructor. I just accepted the role of being the student who "didn't read all of the homework" or "know all of the answers". I was always nervous in the class, and it was partly because the hospital program wouldn't let me study for the class, and would threaten me with lock down if I didn't do XY and Z. When I was in class, I would take off my hospital bracelet, and hide it. I had to make up stories about why I didn't finish an assignment or why I didn't finish the reading. I'm usually a very honest person, but I had to be very quiet. So my written exams always suffered, because the more nervous I am, the more self conscious I get, the more my dyslexic tendencies happen. And, my instructor asked me about it. I had to make up a story. I luckily finished the last half of the class outside of the hospital. I was able to get my grade up. So, I know what you mean about chewing in the insides, and having to put up a false front on the outside. I really do. I had another class when I was in outpatient, and my instructor figured out that there was something going on with me. She never asked me, but in the class, she asked all of the right questions when we discussed topics that were dead on to why I was hospitalized. She was careful, and if I didn't want to answer, she would move the class right along, before anyone noticed. Getting it out there is difficult. I've been through many therapists in my life. And, when you aren't comfortable, you don't want their help. But if you feel that you can trust Phil, talk to him. Speak up. I wish that I spoke up more early on, instead of beating around the bush. Maybe I would have gotten help a lot earlier, and it would have saved me some grief. And maybe the right authorities would have been called, and the campus predators caught. I didn't speak up for over a year. So I don't know how many other girls were raped after me. He got away with it with me. He was cool as a cucumber. I probably wasn't the first. He could be still doing it for all I know. I reported it over a year later. After multiple suicide attempts. So if you feel that you can trust Phil, and he can be of use to you. Talk to him. Talking is better than doing nothing. I can tell you, I've done it, and it sucks. Silence kills. can't do anything anymore. don't know how to speak. don't trust myself to speak. can barely get out of bed. just can't. don't want to be here. don't want to be awake. completely deserted. everybody hates me. Nah, they don't hate you. That's only what you think. Their all just unsure how to go about interacting with you. And when people are unsure about something, they either act like a total douche, or get really quiet. People are usually scared of what they don't understand. So it's not you. Believe me, it's not you. I have multiple years of abstinence from SI (cutting). Last summer, I wore a short sleeved shirt, and had a total stranger at the bus stop flip about about my old scars. "You are one of them CUTTERS. You people are.. [this that and the other, etc., etc]..." You are going to deal with idiots no matter how you look at it. Fine lines still bring out the idiots. Just learn to accept that there will always be idiots in this world, and carry on. Actually, you do know how to speak. This right here is speaking. Just instead, write it out, write a letter, put it into words, and then give it to Phil. You don't have to say anything. Let him read it, and pass him the pen. Let him write a response back. Just write back and forth. Or take a post from here that works the best for you, and paste it into a Word Doc, print it, and bring it into Phil. Get it out there.
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Posted: Wed May 15, 2013 4:12 pm
Nadira Nah, they don't hate you. That's only what you think. Their all just unsure how to go about interacting with you. And when people are unsure about something, they either act like a total douche, or get really quiet. People are usually scared of what they don't understand. So it's not you. Believe me, it's not you. I have multiple years of abstinence from SI (cutting). Last summer, I wore a short sleeved shirt, and had a total stranger at the bus stop flip about about my old scars. "You are one of them CUTTERS. You people are.. [this that and the other, etc., etc]..." You are going to deal with idiots no matter how you look at it. Fine lines still bring out the idiots. Just learn to accept that there will always be idiots in this world, and carry on. Actually, you do know how to speak. This right here is speaking. Just instead, write it out, write a letter, put it into words, and then give it to Phil. You don't have to say anything. Let him read it, and pass him the pen. Let him write a response back. Just write back and forth. Or take a post from here that works the best for you, and paste it into a Word Doc, print it, and bring it into Phil. Get it out there. I wrote the last reply while feeling really really really bad. Last night I was inches away from ending it and I asked for help on my tumblr because there are people there who are like 'oh I'll always help' and nobody helped, so I had to talk myself down. Today I have been barely able to speak. Yes I have written words down but it's taken tremendous effort to do so, and anything more than collections of minor sentences was beyond me until about an hour ago. I felt so bad that my walking's been off. I feel like I should go into a mental hospital, but I'm so scared of what my mum will do that I can't.
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Posted: Thu May 16, 2013 12:41 am
Voldeturtle Nadira Nah, they don't hate you. That's only what you think. Their all just unsure how to go about interacting with you. And when people are unsure about something, they either act like a total douche, or get really quiet. People are usually scared of what they don't understand. So it's not you. Believe me, it's not you. I have multiple years of abstinence from SI (cutting). Last summer, I wore a short sleeved shirt, and had a total stranger at the bus stop flip about about my old scars. "You are one of them CUTTERS. You people are.. [this that and the other, etc., etc]..." You are going to deal with idiots no matter how you look at it. Fine lines still bring out the idiots. Just learn to accept that there will always be idiots in this world, and carry on. Actually, you do know how to speak. This right here is speaking. Just instead, write it out, write a letter, put it into words, and then give it to Phil. You don't have to say anything. Let him read it, and pass him the pen. Let him write a response back. Just write back and forth. Or take a post from here that works the best for you, and paste it into a Word Doc, print it, and bring it into Phil. Get it out there. I wrote the last reply while feeling really really really bad. Last night I was inches away from ending it and I asked for help on my tumblr because there are people there who are like 'oh I'll always help' and nobody helped, so I had to talk myself down. Today I have been barely able to speak. Yes I have written words down but it's taken tremendous effort to do so, and anything more than collections of minor sentences was beyond me until about an hour ago. I felt so bad that my walking's been off. I feel like I should go into a mental hospital, but I'm so scared of what my mum will do that I can't. You're afraid what your Mom will do if you go in and ask for help, but you aren't afraid about what your Mom will do if she finds you dead. Believe me, our loved ones would rather see us get help, than finding us unresponsive. I know when I was super depressed, I thought that by somehow not existing, that everything would be ok. But now, I realize that if my mother came in and found me, or someone else found me, and my family learned of the news, that they would have been devastated. When I was in an outpatient hospital program, we had something called Process Groups. There was this girl named Natasha. She was talking about how she was an adult, and feared stepping on the cracks in the side walk. If she stepped on them, something terrible would happen. I wanted to tell her so badly that I feel that way too, and deal with funny OCD related things, too. I really really wanted to say something, but I remained quiet. She was feeling very low, and I kept my thoughts to myself. The following day, we came in, and Natasha wasn't there. In the session, the hospital employees broke the news to us, Natasha went home and committed suicide. That memory still haunts me to this day. If I had only let her know that she wasn't alone, maybe she could have survived another day. She was a person who was very loving, and kind to everyone around her. She left a loving husband behind. It was a great loss. --- From that program, my fellow friends who attempted suicide, and didn't succeed, have gone on to do better things in their lives: One went on and became a successful real estate agent. Another who dealt with bi-polar and had a full manic episode in college, and then attempted suicide multiple times, was able to find himself a balance. He's now a college professor. A crazy college professor, but nevertheless, still alive. ( I added the crazy, just because of his personality. He's like the Bulk in the Bulk and Skull Duo). Another was able to meet her grandchildren, and start re building her relationships with her children. She had to look at life differently. Basically, we all had to find something to keep us here. I used to check in with Art of Life Guild every week. I had a lot of helpers over there keep me around. Gaia's forums helped me have a purpose to exist. Any purpose is a great thing. So right now, it's Tokusatsu and getting a higher education. I feel 1 Million years old, but I'd rather be a million that not be there at all. I am supposed to be dead, but I am not. So, I figure that I have a bigger purpose. So maybe google the internet for funny videos. When I got really depressed, I would read comic books (like Peanuts), and do something that makes me happy (draw). Do what you know. Thank you for responding to my post. I really look forward to hearing from you. Keep up the good work. Struggle and survive one day at a time.
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Posted: Fri May 17, 2013 4:40 am
Nadira You're afraid what your Mom will do if you go in and ask for help, but you aren't afraid about what your Mom will do if she finds you dead. Believe me, our loved ones would rather see us get help, than finding us unresponsive. I know when I was super depressed, I thought that by somehow not existing, that everything would be ok. But now, I realize that if my mother came in and found me, or someone else found me, and my family learned of the news, that they would have been devastated. When I was in an outpatient hospital program, we had something called Process Groups. There was this girl named Natasha. She was talking about how she was an adult, and feared stepping on the cracks in the side walk. If she stepped on them, something terrible would happen. I wanted to tell her so badly that I feel that way too, and deal with funny OCD related things, too. I really really wanted to say something, but I remained quiet. She was feeling very low, and I kept my thoughts to myself. The following day, we came in, and Natasha wasn't there. In the session, the hospital employees broke the news to us, Natasha went home and committed suicide. That memory still haunts me to this day. If I had only let her know that she wasn't alone, maybe she could have survived another day. She was a person who was very loving, and kind to everyone around her. She left a loving husband behind. It was a great loss. --- From that program, my fellow friends who attempted suicide, and didn't succeed, have gone on to do better things in their lives: One went on and became a successful real estate agent. Another who dealt with bi-polar and had a full manic episode in college, and then attempted suicide multiple times, was able to find himself a balance. He's now a college professor. A crazy college professor, but nevertheless, still alive. ( I added the crazy, just because of his personality. He's like the Bulk in the Bulk and Skull Duo). Another was able to meet her grandchildren, and start re building her relationships with her children. She had to look at life differently. Basically, we all had to find something to keep us here. I used to check in with Art of Life Guild every week. I had a lot of helpers over there keep me around. Gaia's forums helped me have a purpose to exist. Any purpose is a great thing. So right now, it's Tokusatsu and getting a higher education. I feel 1 Million years old, but I'd rather be a million that not be there at all. I am supposed to be dead, but I am not. So, I figure that I have a bigger purpose. So maybe google the internet for funny videos. When I got really depressed, I would read comic books (like Peanuts), and do something that makes me happy (draw). Do what you know. Thank you for responding to my post. I really look forward to hearing from you. Keep up the good work. Struggle and survive one day at a time. She's not my loved one. I hate her. Don't say that that's some teenage angst thing, because that has been a consistent feeling for me ever since I was seven. I have been counting down until I'm able to move out for the past ten years. She makes me feel like dirt. I'm not scared of her finding me dead because she can't have a go at me then, but if she found me nearly dead and I survived, she'd put me in mental hospital - not because I'd need to be there, but because she considers me a freak and thinks that's where I should be - she'd take my laptop and my phone, which I need. I use the internet to relax, and she frequently blocks me from using it, which leaves me isolated from absolutely everyone I feel comfortable talking to. She has a go at me for expressing any opinion that differs from hers, she called me stuck-up and implied that I was amoral because I didn't want to get a job cleaning public toilets, even though she's the one that happily fat-shames children. I know that there are other people who suffer depression, they're everywhere. It doesn't make me feel any better though. Fact remains that I have no reason to live and people will get over my death quite easily.
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Posted: Fri May 17, 2013 1:43 pm
Voldeturtle Nadira You're afraid what your Mom will do if you go in and ask for help, but you aren't afraid about what your Mom will do if she finds you dead. Believe me, our loved ones would rather see us get help, than finding us unresponsive. I know when I was super depressed, I thought that by somehow not existing, that everything would be ok. But now, I realize that if my mother came in and found me, or someone else found me, and my family learned of the news, that they would have been devastated. When I was in an outpatient hospital program, we had something called Process Groups. There was this girl named Natasha. She was talking about how she was an adult, and feared stepping on the cracks in the side walk. If she stepped on them, something terrible would happen. I wanted to tell her so badly that I feel that way too, and deal with funny OCD related things, too. I really really wanted to say something, but I remained quiet. She was feeling very low, and I kept my thoughts to myself. The following day, we came in, and Natasha wasn't there. In the session, the hospital employees broke the news to us, Natasha went home and committed suicide. That memory still haunts me to this day. If I had only let her know that she wasn't alone, maybe she could have survived another day. She was a person who was very loving, and kind to everyone around her. She left a loving husband behind. It was a great loss. --- From that program, my fellow friends who attempted suicide, and didn't succeed, have gone on to do better things in their lives: One went on and became a successful real estate agent. Another who dealt with bi-polar and had a full manic episode in college, and then attempted suicide multiple times, was able to find himself a balance. He's now a college professor. A crazy college professor, but nevertheless, still alive. ( I added the crazy, just because of his personality. He's like the Bulk in the Bulk and Skull Duo). Another was able to meet her grandchildren, and start re building her relationships with her children. She had to look at life differently. Basically, we all had to find something to keep us here. I used to check in with Art of Life Guild every week. I had a lot of helpers over there keep me around. Gaia's forums helped me have a purpose to exist. Any purpose is a great thing. So right now, it's Tokusatsu and getting a higher education. I feel 1 Million years old, but I'd rather be a million that not be there at all. I am supposed to be dead, but I am not. So, I figure that I have a bigger purpose. So maybe google the internet for funny videos. When I got really depressed, I would read comic books (like Peanuts), and do something that makes me happy (draw). Do what you know. Thank you for responding to my post. I really look forward to hearing from you. Keep up the good work. Struggle and survive one day at a time. She's not my loved one. I hate her. Don't say that that's some teenage angst thing, because that has been a consistent feeling for me ever since I was seven. I have been counting down until I'm able to move out for the past ten years. She makes me feel like dirt. I'm not scared of her finding me dead because she can't have a go at me then, but if she found me nearly dead and I survived, she'd put me in mental hospital - not because I'd need to be there, but because she considers me a freak and thinks that's where I should be - she'd take my laptop and my phone, which I need. I use the internet to relax, and she frequently blocks me from using it, which leaves me isolated from absolutely everyone I feel comfortable talking to. She has a go at me for expressing any opinion that differs from hers, she called me stuck-up and implied that I was amoral because I didn't want to get a job cleaning public toilets, even though she's the one that happily fat-shames children. I know that there are other people who suffer depression, they're everywhere. It doesn't make me feel any better though. Fact remains that I have no reason to live and people will get over my death quite easily. Seriously. If I were to be living with my Step Mother, which sounds exactly like your own mother, I would have gotten my drivers license, left, and never came back. But I wouldn't put myself in the position where scrubbing toilets is low man on the todem poll work. You do what you MUST do to survive. You become a jack of all trades. So it's the environment that you are living in. Change it. Run away if you have to. Are you eighteen yet? I suggest getting the hell out of there. There are youth hostels all over the country. Broke? Try the Megabus or Gray Hound System. Go by an alias. Get your papers (SS, ID, Birth Cert), and leave. What do you aspire to be? What kind of job interests you? Get out, and when you turn 18, go to a JC, and start taking classes that interest you. Anything that interests you. Even a class in Basket weaving. Just find something. Can't afford it? There's s**t load of Fin Aid. You don't need to cite your parents income. You are on your own. You have a deadbeat mother, and I am guessing, an absentee father. There are lots of aid, and you can get your CC paid for. Find a job over where you land. Nothing is below you. It's called starting a fresh. It's your environment that is ******** you up. Your mother is a dirt rag who makes your very existence unbearable. So get OUT of that environment. LEAVE where you are living, and GO else where. No, it's not easy. Hell, this would be the hard part, especially if you have gotten too comfortable in the situation that you are in. Get your GED, or finish high school, or whatever, and put some distance between your family and you. I know plenty of young people who had to do that. One of my friends in school had to put a lot of distance between he and his family, because in their eyes he was a "worthless f**". The only way for him to be accepted in his own life, was to get out of the environment he was in, or else he'd be 6 feet under, too. Just remember, you have control over how you want to exist in this life. You can blame everyone else till you are blue in the face, but it's not them, it's you. So are you going to take the bull by the horn and do something about your environment? Or are you going to let it kill you?
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Posted: Fri May 17, 2013 3:42 pm
Nadira Seriously. If I were to be living with my Step Mother, which sounds exactly like your own mother, I would have gotten my drivers license, left, and never came back. But I wouldn't put myself in the position where scrubbing toilets is low man on the todem poll work. You do what you MUST do to survive. You become a jack of all trades. So it's the environment that you are living in. Change it. Run away if you have to. Are you eighteen yet? I suggest getting the hell out of there. There are youth hostels all over the country. Broke? Try the Megabus or Gray Hound System. Go by an alias. Get your papers (SS, ID, Birth Cert), and leave. What do you aspire to be? What kind of job interests you? Get out, and when you turn 18, go to a JC, and start taking classes that interest you. Anything that interests you. Even a class in Basket weaving. Just find something. Can't afford it? There's s**t load of Fin Aid. You don't need to cite your parents income. You are on your own. You have a deadbeat mother, and I am guessing, an absentee father. There are lots of aid, and you can get your CC paid for. Find a job over where you land. Nothing is below you. It's called starting a fresh. It's your environment that is ******** you up. Your mother is a dirt rag who makes your very existence unbearable. So get OUT of that environment. LEAVE where you are living, and GO else where. No, it's not easy. Hell, this would be the hard part, especially if you have gotten too comfortable in the situation that you are in. Get your GED, or finish high school, or whatever, and put some distance between your family and you. I know plenty of young people who had to do that. One of my friends in school had to put a lot of distance between he and his family, because in their eyes he was a "worthless f**". The only way for him to be accepted in his own life, was to get out of the environment he was in, or else he'd be 6 feet under, too. Just remember, you have control over how you want to exist in this life. You can blame everyone else till you are blue in the face, but it's not them, it's you. So are you going to take the bull by the horn and do something about your environment? Or are you going to let it kill you? I'm seventeen. I can't leave, I haven't finished sixth form yet and I need to to be able to get the qualifications I need to go on to university, and I can't get those if I'm working full-time. Nowhere to run to either, I don't even know the way around the city I live in, and physically I look very vulnerable and attackable. Plus if I'm alone I will kill myself because nobody's there to stop me. There's no financial support. I live in conservative-run Britain. They hate women, they hate young people, they hate people who don't support their beliefs. I'm a young socialist pansexual female. They ******** hate me, there's no support for me. I'm moving out when I'm able to, but I can't at the moment, so no it's not me letting everyone else get on top of me, it's the fact that the only way I could get out of here now would be to turn to prostitution. And the point is that I am letting things kill me, that's what I want.
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