neverwashere
Self sabotaging to cope with it all
- Apr 25, 2023
- 73
This is going to be a really long post so strap in, get comfy, and do whatever else you need to do. It takes a while, but trust me I do get to the "confessing my sins" part that you undoubtedly clicked on this thread for.
For starters, I'm not a religious person in the slightest and I consider myself "agnostic", which means I don't follow any religion and don't necessarily believe in any "god(s)", but I'm somewhat open to the existence of one. Having said that, my mental health is beginning to slip again and I think I might attempt again very soon. (If you've survived past attempts, you know the feeling you get when you're approaching the point of planning/committing.)
I don't go to any churches so I don't know any priests I can confess to in hopes of somewhat redeeming my soul in case there is a god out there, so I thought I might as well just get it out here since this place is as judgement free and anonymous as it gets.
It's been a while since I've posted on this site, so I should elaborate on my current situation; I went to another mental hospital for another week about 3 weeks after my last post (went in on September 4th and was let out on the 11th), where I was given different medications that actually worked and had more time to reflect on my life. While I was there and shortly after I got out, I could feel myself improving. I quit the job that I had developed a codependency with, which was giving me serious issues with my self-worth and contributed to both of my attempts. I could think more clearly, I didn't have as much of the passive suicidal ideation I'd grown so used to, and I thought I actually wanted to live and that I was given a second chance at leading a normal life. I now see that I was naïve to think that this would last. I can tell because I haven't been able to clean my room for weeks. It was messy before I went to the hospital in September, and guess what? It's still messy. I tried cleaning once but I just couldn't properly finish the job and gave up, leaving my room half-cleaned. I eat all of my meals in my room because I hate being with my family– with whom I've moved in recently–, so I almost always have one or two dirty dishes just sitting on my desk for days on end, usually with some rotting food left in them because my medications make me not feel hungry anymore. The most I can bring myself to do at this point is to at least take the dirty dishes to the dishwasher once I start seeing fruit flies or once the food starts to mold, and I hate it. Even as I type this my mom is pissed at me for forgetting to do the dishes after doing something in the kitchen and not talking to me.
It isn't the medication that's making me like this-- it was so much worse than this before the second time I went to the hospital. I've stopped taking everything I was prescribed (vitamin supplements included) cold turkey just in case that's what's been fucking me up, so haven't been on anything for the last few days and I can't tell if it's making me better or worse. The meds did help at first, yes, but they also made me numb to the point where if I wasn't feeling some kind of extreme emotion and someone asked me what my mood was, I wouldn't be able to tell them. One plus of being off my meds is that this "non-mood" is gone and I feel slightly more "normal" now. Unfortunately, my "normal" is chronic tiredness and headaches, apathy, lashing out at everyone, and shame at the fact that I'm alive mixed with constant crippling anxiety.
At times like these, I desperately want to do something life-ruining, like getting into hard drugs or committing some kind of crime, just so I could feel something other than this weird miserable state, but this likely isn't going to happen since I'm too much of a coward to even go out by myself at night, let alone get involved with some shady strangers to buy drugs. I think I'm also just scared that I'll end up regretting ruining my life for stupid reasons, even though that's the whole point.
I don't know what to do anymore. I was getting better, and now I'm getting worse. I'm not quite at the point I was at the last time I tried to attempt, but I'm getting there scarily fast. I can tell another attempt is on the horizon, and as much as I don't really want to die and give up on this second chance at life, I wonder if I even deserve this second chance.
So now that everyone's caught up on the shitshow that is my current state of being, time for what everyone is here for; my confession.
I've done many things that I feel like make me not deserve to live, but the main thing is the fact that I'm a liar. I've lied to so many people. It's gotten to the point where it's compulsive and not even conscious. Sometimes I'll say something about myself and in the moment it won't feel like a big deal, but later I realize the gravity of what I had just said and that if anyone finds out I had lied, my life will be ruined. For example-- in 7th or 8th grade I lied about being an alcoholic. I thought it was just a joke among friends at first, but after a while, I realized they had taken it seriously and it was too late to back out. So what did I do? Naturally, I pretended like I drank alcohol. I did research about what it tasted like, how different amounts affect people, etc., just so that my lie would be believable. I would even pull all-nighters before school so my "hangovers" would be more realistic. When the COVID pandemic hit, I began to actually steal my mom's alcohol because I felt guilty about lying for so long, and didn't want to lie anymore but also didn't want to tell my friends that I lied about something like that. I haven't drunk in over a year now, but I did begin to develop a real dependency that I managed to mostly break out of on my own. I don't have cravings anymore, but I know if I'm ever given easy access to large amounts of liquor again, I'll become an actual alcoholic.
That's the biggest lie I can think of right now, but there are many other random lies that constantly loom over me. The worst part is that if I had told the truth at the time of saying that lie, my life probably wouldn't have been much different. Or maybe it would, who knows? The butterfly effect is a silly little thing.
The silver lining in this is that I actually know why I lie so much; it's to protect myself. I've mentioned before that I feel like (and honestly probably am) a horrible person, and I'm terrified of people finding out. I don't want to get hurt or hurt them by disappointing them, so I've created layers of fake identities meaning that people can still "get close" to me without actually getting close to me if that makes sense. It's gotten to the point where I feel the need to come up with fake ways to explain my thought process so people aren't able to figure it out– I know nobody out there is trying day and night to figure out just how my brain works, but I'm worried that it's so obvious that I need to cover it up somehow. It sounds crazy but to be fair, everyone on this site is crazy to some extent.
The idea of being vulnerable and open with someone scares me so much, and I don't know why. I think it might be because I feel so unlovable and unredeemable all the time, but I'm not sure. Maybe I don't know how to be loved, or how to love others. Either way, one of my biggest fears is someone in my life finding out that I lied about something. I know the example I gave with the alcoholic isn't the best, but most of my lies are a result of wanting to be liked or to feel like a part of society. That sense of "belonging" isn't really something I ever felt, even as a very young child I thought there was something "off" or "alien" about me, so maybe this habit is a result of wanting to fit in with everyone else, and now its something I can't control, which is entirely my fault.
I also excuse my shitty actions way too much. Whenever I'm called out for being a liar or for being manipulative (something I genuinely don't notice in the moment since it's not on purpose, so I can't think of any examples, although I'm not denying that I absolutely can be manipulative and that it hurts people) I always try to find a way to excuse it or at least make it not seem as severe as it really is. I think that's my main issue honestly; downplaying everything and not taking anything seriously enough. I've been trying my best to get better at this and to take more accountability, but there are things that I know I'll never be able to come clean about to anyone.
For now, thats it to my confession. I can't say if I feel any better about myself yet since I haven't posted this yet, but I don't feel any different after typing it out since I already know everything.
I just hope this is enough to redeem myself in the eyes of whatever gods might exist, and that they take a more nuanced approach to judge me for my sins than what is generally presented in society because otherwise I am absolutely doomed and there's nothing I can do about it.
Thank you everyone who reads this for reading. If there's anything you take away from this, then take this piece of advice; NEVER, under any circumstances, be like me. Seek help. Keep living. Don't do anything I've done. I'm barely a legal adult, but I already feel like I've fucked up in countless ways and nothing I'll do will ever undo the harm I've caused to others and myself. Jeez when I say that you'd think I've killed someone! I haven't, don't worry. I'm not a hostile person and the only bloodlust I have is targeted at myself :)
For starters, I'm not a religious person in the slightest and I consider myself "agnostic", which means I don't follow any religion and don't necessarily believe in any "god(s)", but I'm somewhat open to the existence of one. Having said that, my mental health is beginning to slip again and I think I might attempt again very soon. (If you've survived past attempts, you know the feeling you get when you're approaching the point of planning/committing.)
I don't go to any churches so I don't know any priests I can confess to in hopes of somewhat redeeming my soul in case there is a god out there, so I thought I might as well just get it out here since this place is as judgement free and anonymous as it gets.
It's been a while since I've posted on this site, so I should elaborate on my current situation; I went to another mental hospital for another week about 3 weeks after my last post (went in on September 4th and was let out on the 11th), where I was given different medications that actually worked and had more time to reflect on my life. While I was there and shortly after I got out, I could feel myself improving. I quit the job that I had developed a codependency with, which was giving me serious issues with my self-worth and contributed to both of my attempts. I could think more clearly, I didn't have as much of the passive suicidal ideation I'd grown so used to, and I thought I actually wanted to live and that I was given a second chance at leading a normal life. I now see that I was naïve to think that this would last. I can tell because I haven't been able to clean my room for weeks. It was messy before I went to the hospital in September, and guess what? It's still messy. I tried cleaning once but I just couldn't properly finish the job and gave up, leaving my room half-cleaned. I eat all of my meals in my room because I hate being with my family– with whom I've moved in recently–, so I almost always have one or two dirty dishes just sitting on my desk for days on end, usually with some rotting food left in them because my medications make me not feel hungry anymore. The most I can bring myself to do at this point is to at least take the dirty dishes to the dishwasher once I start seeing fruit flies or once the food starts to mold, and I hate it. Even as I type this my mom is pissed at me for forgetting to do the dishes after doing something in the kitchen and not talking to me.
It isn't the medication that's making me like this-- it was so much worse than this before the second time I went to the hospital. I've stopped taking everything I was prescribed (vitamin supplements included) cold turkey just in case that's what's been fucking me up, so haven't been on anything for the last few days and I can't tell if it's making me better or worse. The meds did help at first, yes, but they also made me numb to the point where if I wasn't feeling some kind of extreme emotion and someone asked me what my mood was, I wouldn't be able to tell them. One plus of being off my meds is that this "non-mood" is gone and I feel slightly more "normal" now. Unfortunately, my "normal" is chronic tiredness and headaches, apathy, lashing out at everyone, and shame at the fact that I'm alive mixed with constant crippling anxiety.
At times like these, I desperately want to do something life-ruining, like getting into hard drugs or committing some kind of crime, just so I could feel something other than this weird miserable state, but this likely isn't going to happen since I'm too much of a coward to even go out by myself at night, let alone get involved with some shady strangers to buy drugs. I think I'm also just scared that I'll end up regretting ruining my life for stupid reasons, even though that's the whole point.
I don't know what to do anymore. I was getting better, and now I'm getting worse. I'm not quite at the point I was at the last time I tried to attempt, but I'm getting there scarily fast. I can tell another attempt is on the horizon, and as much as I don't really want to die and give up on this second chance at life, I wonder if I even deserve this second chance.
So now that everyone's caught up on the shitshow that is my current state of being, time for what everyone is here for; my confession.
I've done many things that I feel like make me not deserve to live, but the main thing is the fact that I'm a liar. I've lied to so many people. It's gotten to the point where it's compulsive and not even conscious. Sometimes I'll say something about myself and in the moment it won't feel like a big deal, but later I realize the gravity of what I had just said and that if anyone finds out I had lied, my life will be ruined. For example-- in 7th or 8th grade I lied about being an alcoholic. I thought it was just a joke among friends at first, but after a while, I realized they had taken it seriously and it was too late to back out. So what did I do? Naturally, I pretended like I drank alcohol. I did research about what it tasted like, how different amounts affect people, etc., just so that my lie would be believable. I would even pull all-nighters before school so my "hangovers" would be more realistic. When the COVID pandemic hit, I began to actually steal my mom's alcohol because I felt guilty about lying for so long, and didn't want to lie anymore but also didn't want to tell my friends that I lied about something like that. I haven't drunk in over a year now, but I did begin to develop a real dependency that I managed to mostly break out of on my own. I don't have cravings anymore, but I know if I'm ever given easy access to large amounts of liquor again, I'll become an actual alcoholic.
That's the biggest lie I can think of right now, but there are many other random lies that constantly loom over me. The worst part is that if I had told the truth at the time of saying that lie, my life probably wouldn't have been much different. Or maybe it would, who knows? The butterfly effect is a silly little thing.
The silver lining in this is that I actually know why I lie so much; it's to protect myself. I've mentioned before that I feel like (and honestly probably am) a horrible person, and I'm terrified of people finding out. I don't want to get hurt or hurt them by disappointing them, so I've created layers of fake identities meaning that people can still "get close" to me without actually getting close to me if that makes sense. It's gotten to the point where I feel the need to come up with fake ways to explain my thought process so people aren't able to figure it out– I know nobody out there is trying day and night to figure out just how my brain works, but I'm worried that it's so obvious that I need to cover it up somehow. It sounds crazy but to be fair, everyone on this site is crazy to some extent.
The idea of being vulnerable and open with someone scares me so much, and I don't know why. I think it might be because I feel so unlovable and unredeemable all the time, but I'm not sure. Maybe I don't know how to be loved, or how to love others. Either way, one of my biggest fears is someone in my life finding out that I lied about something. I know the example I gave with the alcoholic isn't the best, but most of my lies are a result of wanting to be liked or to feel like a part of society. That sense of "belonging" isn't really something I ever felt, even as a very young child I thought there was something "off" or "alien" about me, so maybe this habit is a result of wanting to fit in with everyone else, and now its something I can't control, which is entirely my fault.
I also excuse my shitty actions way too much. Whenever I'm called out for being a liar or for being manipulative (something I genuinely don't notice in the moment since it's not on purpose, so I can't think of any examples, although I'm not denying that I absolutely can be manipulative and that it hurts people) I always try to find a way to excuse it or at least make it not seem as severe as it really is. I think that's my main issue honestly; downplaying everything and not taking anything seriously enough. I've been trying my best to get better at this and to take more accountability, but there are things that I know I'll never be able to come clean about to anyone.
For now, thats it to my confession. I can't say if I feel any better about myself yet since I haven't posted this yet, but I don't feel any different after typing it out since I already know everything.
I just hope this is enough to redeem myself in the eyes of whatever gods might exist, and that they take a more nuanced approach to judge me for my sins than what is generally presented in society because otherwise I am absolutely doomed and there's nothing I can do about it.
Thank you everyone who reads this for reading. If there's anything you take away from this, then take this piece of advice; NEVER, under any circumstances, be like me. Seek help. Keep living. Don't do anything I've done. I'm barely a legal adult, but I already feel like I've fucked up in countless ways and nothing I'll do will ever undo the harm I've caused to others and myself. Jeez when I say that you'd think I've killed someone! I haven't, don't worry. I'm not a hostile person and the only bloodlust I have is targeted at myself :)
