brandnewtiger
New Member
- Aug 28, 2025
- 1
Hello everyone, this is my first post here on SaSu.
I had persistent thoughts of ctb ever since April that only began to diminish in the past couple of weeks. I didn't tell anyone about my mental turmoil, even after it resulted in me buying a shotgun in April, and quitting jobs, even lying about upkeeping the second one I got in June because I didn't want to work any longer because I didn't see the point, I felt I was absolutely decided that I would die. This facade was so intense that I would tell all of my friends and family I was going to work multiple times a week for almost 2 months but in truth I would walk around town, passing by places of childhood significance and listening to my favorite music, or sitting in a coffee shop and getting violently high to drown out my thoughts while consuming whatever media was piquing my interest at the time. By the time August rolled around and I had actually gotten another new job (I told myself I needed a backup plan if I wanted to stay alive) but my money had dwindled to only about $100, I decided it was my time.
One day I compiled by 5 page long main note, and drafted several, more personal ones to my closest family and friends. I called out of work, got in my car, and began to drive. My plan for months up to that point was to drive across my state and into the next one over, enjoying a scenic drive, listening to a playlist of my favorite songs, and eating at my favorite two restaurants before ending it all. But I was so exhausted in the moment I took a much shorter drive. I stopped at a Five Guys along the way because it was a place I had a lot of good memories with friends over the years. I felt so numb and I was shaking my entire time there I could hardly eat. It was a rare, gray and dreary PNW summer day. I eventually found a side road and began to gather my notes in order. I turned off my phone and sat with myself for a moment. My mind was racing but I couldn't process anything I was actually thinking. It was simply everything at once. I got my gun out of the back of the car and loaded two shells into it. I had never even fired the thing before. I decided I needed a practice shot. After firing, amidst my ears ringing and my blurry vision, I had a moment of clarity. I told myself I simply could not die then. In a split second I took the remaining shell out of the chamber, grabbed the box with all my other ammo, and tossed it in the forest. I threw a sock over the barrel of the gun, put it in the back, and said not a word to any of my loved ones upon returning home. I had a conversation with my dad about how I was feeling and he told me was there for me but also said I shouldn't said that (in response to me saying I thought about dying before, I had barred any further details).
After arriving home high one night and my dad seeing me on camera stumbling into the house, he told me I need to get my shot together. In that moment it really resonated with me. After a few weeks of enjoying my new jobs and having more passive rather than active suicidal thoughts, after he told me that it all came rushing back. Feeling like a failure, like I'm the odd one out in my family and my friend groups, feeling like I should be so much better than I really am, and that I have been horrible to the people I have shared relationships with in the past. A second rate brother, friend, boyfriend, and anything else that could be inserted next to my name. This time I called 988 and ended up inpatient for 5 days.
Long story short my family and friends finally knew the extent of my suffering. But it wasn't the catharsis I expected, despite the support I received at first it seemed everyone expected me to get better quickly. Even when I told people varying degrees of the extent of my turmoil (including my very close call) I never got the reaction I was hoping for in my mind. I'm not angry with any of the people in my life for this, but I'm just confused why I expected any different. What are they supposed to tell me? I just never felt supported or cared for in the way I expected I guess. For me, each time I told that story I felt it again. The recoil of the gun pushing me back and my mind suddenly clearing. That first moment without suicidal thoughts in months. Seeing all favorite people's faces flash before my eyes. Thinking endlessly about how they would react once I passed. And when I was met with, "well, shit man, I'm glad you're still here now though" it just felt like it was something of a misunderstanding. The more I dwell on that I feel I am to blame. After all, I kept it hidden for months and it could have been a lot easier to explain if I didn't just one day end up in the hospital and have to explain afterwards.
Anyway, after my stay I began an IOP program. I was back in the ER after my first weekend of it because I was so afraid of letting my parents down and knowing they had to deal with the financial burden of my hospital stay. Still, I fought the returning suicidal thoughts and drove to the place I knew I would be safe. Since then I've had minimal to no thoughts. The IOP program has allowed me to get a lot of new coping skills and have some good conversations, and besides some early relapses I'm now almost 3 weeks sober from weed about to enter my fifth week in the program. And yet, I find myself on this Sunday night remembering the past few months and ruminating heavily on it. It feels so far behind me in a way yet it's absolutely defined my year. I still doubt myself deep down. Even in my IOP, I'm the youngest person there and I feel I don't fit in with the Gen X/older Millennial crowd. They all keep in contact and joke with each other and constantly speak their unfiltered truth in group, yet for me I feel even when I'm trying to be authentic there I can only speak 50% of my mind because I don't feel worthy in a sense. And that leads me to the reason I'm posting this here today.
On this forum, I have read a lot of posts and with many I have noticed people in various extenuating circumstances. In my IOP group too, those people have gone through some tough shit with parents, partners, drug use, multiple suicide attempts, and more. In inpatient I felt even more alienated like I was dramatic for being in that setting with a bunch of others who were clearly struggling so deeply. What I'm trying to say is I don't understand why all of this has happened to me. I live a good life with parents who were high school sweethearts in a suburb outside of a great city. I go to community college for free and I have a lot of caring friends in town. I have a loving girlfriend who means everything to me. In high school I was a great student yet I never applied myself the extra mile. That has been my fatal flaw. I endlessly quit jobs, I've broken up with girlfriends on a whim, I stop contacting friends out of nowhere, and I feel as though I don't appreciate my family as much as many others do. I feel so ungrateful and with that comes so much shame. I feel like many people would give so much for a chance to live in the scenario that my life is in, yet I came so close to ending in on that August day. Even though I still haven't felt suicidal for a few weeks, that feeling of being ashamed has been creeping back in. I'm jobless again after my ER visit meant I no showed one time too many. My parents are on my ass about me getting another and rightfully so given I have to transfer to university next year and they said they can't help me pay for any of it. I just worry I'm gonna have another moment where I panick and begin hating my job, wanting to quit, fighting it, and the cycle starts all over. If it's not a job, it's a relationship, if it's not a relationship, it a friendship, if it's not a friendship, it's my future in general. This has all gone without mentioning I feel like I'm too politically aware in this evil time in our country's history. So many people live in ignorance and I honestly envy them. This sounds so ridiculous but I literally feel the evils of capitalism radiating in my bones each day and I'm certain it contributed to my depressive episode beginning in April. But again, that's my problem. What a privilege to even feel that way!!
Essentially, I just needed to get all of this out there. I am so grateful for this place for allowing me feel heard, even as I've gone through recovery I still find myself here because it genuinely helps me feel better knowing I'm not alone. I wrote this in one go so I'm sorry if there's some grammatical errors or typos. To anyone who made it through all of this yapping I appreciate it and you deeply.
I had persistent thoughts of ctb ever since April that only began to diminish in the past couple of weeks. I didn't tell anyone about my mental turmoil, even after it resulted in me buying a shotgun in April, and quitting jobs, even lying about upkeeping the second one I got in June because I didn't want to work any longer because I didn't see the point, I felt I was absolutely decided that I would die. This facade was so intense that I would tell all of my friends and family I was going to work multiple times a week for almost 2 months but in truth I would walk around town, passing by places of childhood significance and listening to my favorite music, or sitting in a coffee shop and getting violently high to drown out my thoughts while consuming whatever media was piquing my interest at the time. By the time August rolled around and I had actually gotten another new job (I told myself I needed a backup plan if I wanted to stay alive) but my money had dwindled to only about $100, I decided it was my time.
One day I compiled by 5 page long main note, and drafted several, more personal ones to my closest family and friends. I called out of work, got in my car, and began to drive. My plan for months up to that point was to drive across my state and into the next one over, enjoying a scenic drive, listening to a playlist of my favorite songs, and eating at my favorite two restaurants before ending it all. But I was so exhausted in the moment I took a much shorter drive. I stopped at a Five Guys along the way because it was a place I had a lot of good memories with friends over the years. I felt so numb and I was shaking my entire time there I could hardly eat. It was a rare, gray and dreary PNW summer day. I eventually found a side road and began to gather my notes in order. I turned off my phone and sat with myself for a moment. My mind was racing but I couldn't process anything I was actually thinking. It was simply everything at once. I got my gun out of the back of the car and loaded two shells into it. I had never even fired the thing before. I decided I needed a practice shot. After firing, amidst my ears ringing and my blurry vision, I had a moment of clarity. I told myself I simply could not die then. In a split second I took the remaining shell out of the chamber, grabbed the box with all my other ammo, and tossed it in the forest. I threw a sock over the barrel of the gun, put it in the back, and said not a word to any of my loved ones upon returning home. I had a conversation with my dad about how I was feeling and he told me was there for me but also said I shouldn't said that (in response to me saying I thought about dying before, I had barred any further details).
After arriving home high one night and my dad seeing me on camera stumbling into the house, he told me I need to get my shot together. In that moment it really resonated with me. After a few weeks of enjoying my new jobs and having more passive rather than active suicidal thoughts, after he told me that it all came rushing back. Feeling like a failure, like I'm the odd one out in my family and my friend groups, feeling like I should be so much better than I really am, and that I have been horrible to the people I have shared relationships with in the past. A second rate brother, friend, boyfriend, and anything else that could be inserted next to my name. This time I called 988 and ended up inpatient for 5 days.
Long story short my family and friends finally knew the extent of my suffering. But it wasn't the catharsis I expected, despite the support I received at first it seemed everyone expected me to get better quickly. Even when I told people varying degrees of the extent of my turmoil (including my very close call) I never got the reaction I was hoping for in my mind. I'm not angry with any of the people in my life for this, but I'm just confused why I expected any different. What are they supposed to tell me? I just never felt supported or cared for in the way I expected I guess. For me, each time I told that story I felt it again. The recoil of the gun pushing me back and my mind suddenly clearing. That first moment without suicidal thoughts in months. Seeing all favorite people's faces flash before my eyes. Thinking endlessly about how they would react once I passed. And when I was met with, "well, shit man, I'm glad you're still here now though" it just felt like it was something of a misunderstanding. The more I dwell on that I feel I am to blame. After all, I kept it hidden for months and it could have been a lot easier to explain if I didn't just one day end up in the hospital and have to explain afterwards.
Anyway, after my stay I began an IOP program. I was back in the ER after my first weekend of it because I was so afraid of letting my parents down and knowing they had to deal with the financial burden of my hospital stay. Still, I fought the returning suicidal thoughts and drove to the place I knew I would be safe. Since then I've had minimal to no thoughts. The IOP program has allowed me to get a lot of new coping skills and have some good conversations, and besides some early relapses I'm now almost 3 weeks sober from weed about to enter my fifth week in the program. And yet, I find myself on this Sunday night remembering the past few months and ruminating heavily on it. It feels so far behind me in a way yet it's absolutely defined my year. I still doubt myself deep down. Even in my IOP, I'm the youngest person there and I feel I don't fit in with the Gen X/older Millennial crowd. They all keep in contact and joke with each other and constantly speak their unfiltered truth in group, yet for me I feel even when I'm trying to be authentic there I can only speak 50% of my mind because I don't feel worthy in a sense. And that leads me to the reason I'm posting this here today.
On this forum, I have read a lot of posts and with many I have noticed people in various extenuating circumstances. In my IOP group too, those people have gone through some tough shit with parents, partners, drug use, multiple suicide attempts, and more. In inpatient I felt even more alienated like I was dramatic for being in that setting with a bunch of others who were clearly struggling so deeply. What I'm trying to say is I don't understand why all of this has happened to me. I live a good life with parents who were high school sweethearts in a suburb outside of a great city. I go to community college for free and I have a lot of caring friends in town. I have a loving girlfriend who means everything to me. In high school I was a great student yet I never applied myself the extra mile. That has been my fatal flaw. I endlessly quit jobs, I've broken up with girlfriends on a whim, I stop contacting friends out of nowhere, and I feel as though I don't appreciate my family as much as many others do. I feel so ungrateful and with that comes so much shame. I feel like many people would give so much for a chance to live in the scenario that my life is in, yet I came so close to ending in on that August day. Even though I still haven't felt suicidal for a few weeks, that feeling of being ashamed has been creeping back in. I'm jobless again after my ER visit meant I no showed one time too many. My parents are on my ass about me getting another and rightfully so given I have to transfer to university next year and they said they can't help me pay for any of it. I just worry I'm gonna have another moment where I panick and begin hating my job, wanting to quit, fighting it, and the cycle starts all over. If it's not a job, it's a relationship, if it's not a relationship, it a friendship, if it's not a friendship, it's my future in general. This has all gone without mentioning I feel like I'm too politically aware in this evil time in our country's history. So many people live in ignorance and I honestly envy them. This sounds so ridiculous but I literally feel the evils of capitalism radiating in my bones each day and I'm certain it contributed to my depressive episode beginning in April. But again, that's my problem. What a privilege to even feel that way!!
Essentially, I just needed to get all of this out there. I am so grateful for this place for allowing me feel heard, even as I've gone through recovery I still find myself here because it genuinely helps me feel better knowing I'm not alone. I wrote this in one go so I'm sorry if there's some grammatical errors or typos. To anyone who made it through all of this yapping I appreciate it and you deeply.
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