I am a "youngish" adult , I have a family of my own; small children and I have a lot going on. A lot of people I have cared about have died, are dying, or will likely die relatively soon. A core person in my family unit from my childhood died, and it has sent me mentally spiraling.
I spend a lot of the day trapped in a mental prison in my own brain and am experiencing a lot of intrusive thoughts, poor sleep, and stomach issues from nerves. I am scared to share what has been going on because I know that sharing this information is a burden. I also don't want to concern the people around me, and I feel a lot of shame.
I have been trying to reach out, but I can't find the words. When people ask me for more information, I immediately clam up and give them the "I'm okay, everything is fine" response, even though it isn't fine.
I don't want people to know or talk about what's going on with me, but simultaneously, a part of me is scared of myself and I think part of me wants to live and the other sees itself as a burden.
I have been spending increasing amounts of time thinking about death, suicide of course . At this point, it feels obsessive. I almost feel like I'm trying to desensitize myself to the idea of it, or maybe I'm trying to convince myself that it isn't as scary as it should be. There is something strangely freeing about these thoughts, and that soothes me.
I am not planning anything tonight, I am not solidly planning anything at all but honestly, I have written notes and have come to a conclusion about what my options would be if or when i move forward, if that makes sense.
Today, I went somewhere secluded and experimented with partial suspension hanging. When I came close to feeling like sounds where slipping away and my lips felt tingly and my head felt idk like a balloon I stood up and released myself twice before chickening out and going home. It's not the first time in my life I have done something like that, and it's not the first time I have attempted ligature-type strangulation on myself.
I have started to choke myself with my hands, cords, and poke myself with sharp objects and occasionally burn myself while cooking. In the past, some of these behaviors happened during severe flare-ups involving disordered eating, vomiting, and cutting. I can't even believe I'm admitting that I've done those things. It feels pathetic and incredibly embarrassing to me. I haven't been doing those things recently, aside from not eating and occasionally vomiting.
About 8 years ago I overdosed on sleeping medication and Tylenol and didn't seek help. I remember enjoying the isolation and the experience of closing my eyes and not knowing whether I would wake up. I did eventually wake up after sleeping for multiple days off and on, and I couldn't walk properly for about a day.
I remember dragging myself across the floor and having a hallucination that I had shot myself. I remember feeling terrified but relieved. But even then, I didn't seek help. I stayed silent in my dorm on the floor in the dark crying and waiting for something that didn't come. After that I continued to have a lot of fantasies I guess you could say of throwing myself off a local bridge known for suicides, or hanging myself from a wood beam in my dorm. I did not follow through on these asides from tying an exercise band around the beam and to myself and cutting myself off of oxygen briefly repeatedly and totally chickening out and getting stoned after to sleep it off. After that I left college and bought a firearm I would put in my mouth occasionally unloaded (which I no longer have btw)
I feel confused about those experiences because part of me knew I was putting myself in danger in some cases death was possible and I liked the ambivalence and possibility that I could die, but another part of me wasn't actually taking the final step. It felt terrifying, messy, and intimidating.
I've attempted partial suspension today, out of nowhere honestly but I did. I organized it and went somewhere secluded to be alone. I remember getting to the point where my face felt full of pressure and sounds seemed farther away. It's hard to explain what that felt like. My lips felt tingly and my pinky felt like feathers (light and staticky)
Idk how I feel about any of it. I could have died, but I also didn't seem fully committed to making sure that happened. I wrote a sappy note and felt gross about the emotional burden of it and so I deleted nearly everything and made it more to the point of what to do post my death and than I just went and did it. I haven't told anyone about these things because I feel like they will see it as attention-seeking, even though I know, deep down, that it is a cry for help.
I'm terrified that people would never be able to look at me the same way again. I imagine becoming some unrecognizable, weird alien to them instead of the person they knew before.
I don't know how I feel about today, either.
Today, I felt like a complete pussy, to be honest. Pathetic. Worse than dog shit.
I feel devastated, and I also can't imagine ever being able to share this with my family.
My mind keeps going to suicide, yet I don't follow through. I think if I tell anyone, they will see it as a cry for help and it is. But I don't want that. I often wish I could make my death look like an accident.
Again, I don't have a standing plan, and I am not planning to kill myself tonight. But I am really overwhelmed.
My sleep has been terrible and filled with crying from grief, and I have this general feeling of being a piece of shit on top of chronic joint pain.
I don't really know what I'm looking for by posting this. I think I just needed to say it somewhere because I can't say it anywhere else. I have an awesome life and no reason to be this way.
I think maybe part of me is hoping that if I finally put the words somewhere, I won't have to keep carrying all of this completely alone.
If you read this you are an awesome person and I am very sorry for wasting your time I just feel like I have to get it out there into the void
I spend a lot of the day trapped in a mental prison in my own brain and am experiencing a lot of intrusive thoughts, poor sleep, and stomach issues from nerves. I am scared to share what has been going on because I know that sharing this information is a burden. I also don't want to concern the people around me, and I feel a lot of shame.
I have been trying to reach out, but I can't find the words. When people ask me for more information, I immediately clam up and give them the "I'm okay, everything is fine" response, even though it isn't fine.
I don't want people to know or talk about what's going on with me, but simultaneously, a part of me is scared of myself and I think part of me wants to live and the other sees itself as a burden.
I have been spending increasing amounts of time thinking about death, suicide of course . At this point, it feels obsessive. I almost feel like I'm trying to desensitize myself to the idea of it, or maybe I'm trying to convince myself that it isn't as scary as it should be. There is something strangely freeing about these thoughts, and that soothes me.
I am not planning anything tonight, I am not solidly planning anything at all but honestly, I have written notes and have come to a conclusion about what my options would be if or when i move forward, if that makes sense.
Today, I went somewhere secluded and experimented with partial suspension hanging. When I came close to feeling like sounds where slipping away and my lips felt tingly and my head felt idk like a balloon I stood up and released myself twice before chickening out and going home. It's not the first time in my life I have done something like that, and it's not the first time I have attempted ligature-type strangulation on myself.
I have started to choke myself with my hands, cords, and poke myself with sharp objects and occasionally burn myself while cooking. In the past, some of these behaviors happened during severe flare-ups involving disordered eating, vomiting, and cutting. I can't even believe I'm admitting that I've done those things. It feels pathetic and incredibly embarrassing to me. I haven't been doing those things recently, aside from not eating and occasionally vomiting.
About 8 years ago I overdosed on sleeping medication and Tylenol and didn't seek help. I remember enjoying the isolation and the experience of closing my eyes and not knowing whether I would wake up. I did eventually wake up after sleeping for multiple days off and on, and I couldn't walk properly for about a day.
I remember dragging myself across the floor and having a hallucination that I had shot myself. I remember feeling terrified but relieved. But even then, I didn't seek help. I stayed silent in my dorm on the floor in the dark crying and waiting for something that didn't come. After that I continued to have a lot of fantasies I guess you could say of throwing myself off a local bridge known for suicides, or hanging myself from a wood beam in my dorm. I did not follow through on these asides from tying an exercise band around the beam and to myself and cutting myself off of oxygen briefly repeatedly and totally chickening out and getting stoned after to sleep it off. After that I left college and bought a firearm I would put in my mouth occasionally unloaded (which I no longer have btw)
I feel confused about those experiences because part of me knew I was putting myself in danger in some cases death was possible and I liked the ambivalence and possibility that I could die, but another part of me wasn't actually taking the final step. It felt terrifying, messy, and intimidating.
I've attempted partial suspension today, out of nowhere honestly but I did. I organized it and went somewhere secluded to be alone. I remember getting to the point where my face felt full of pressure and sounds seemed farther away. It's hard to explain what that felt like. My lips felt tingly and my pinky felt like feathers (light and staticky)
Idk how I feel about any of it. I could have died, but I also didn't seem fully committed to making sure that happened. I wrote a sappy note and felt gross about the emotional burden of it and so I deleted nearly everything and made it more to the point of what to do post my death and than I just went and did it. I haven't told anyone about these things because I feel like they will see it as attention-seeking, even though I know, deep down, that it is a cry for help.
I'm terrified that people would never be able to look at me the same way again. I imagine becoming some unrecognizable, weird alien to them instead of the person they knew before.
I don't know how I feel about today, either.
Today, I felt like a complete pussy, to be honest. Pathetic. Worse than dog shit.
I feel devastated, and I also can't imagine ever being able to share this with my family.
My mind keeps going to suicide, yet I don't follow through. I think if I tell anyone, they will see it as a cry for help and it is. But I don't want that. I often wish I could make my death look like an accident.
Again, I don't have a standing plan, and I am not planning to kill myself tonight. But I am really overwhelmed.
My sleep has been terrible and filled with crying from grief, and I have this general feeling of being a piece of shit on top of chronic joint pain.
I don't really know what I'm looking for by posting this. I think I just needed to say it somewhere because I can't say it anywhere else. I have an awesome life and no reason to be this way.
I think maybe part of me is hoping that if I finally put the words somewhere, I won't have to keep carrying all of this completely alone.
If you read this you are an awesome person and I am very sorry for wasting your time I just feel like I have to get it out there into the void
i'm sorry that you're in so much pain, I truly don't think that anyone would see it as 'attention seeking' if you were to speak about how you were feeling to someone close to you. I'm also really sorry that you lost someone close to you, my mum died a few years ago, which was pretty devastating because she was my only real family support, so I can definitely relate to how difficult a loss like that is.
