emuhly47
New Member
- Aug 15, 2023
- 2
I happened to stumble upon this site referenced elsewhere while looking up "suicide forums," something I've done before ever since I watched Suicide Room back in 2012. I'm 26 and I am too dysfunctional to be on social media like Twitter, Instagram, or Reddit. So I just use Facebook so I can see pictures of my niece. I guess I feel lonely and isolated. Everyone in my city knows me for my depressive episodes, failed attempts, hospital stays. I don't go out and I don't have many friends. I don't have a job because I cracked under the pressure of my last one, which means I've lost health insurance. Without health insurance, I can't get weekly therapy sessions and pursue care for my chronic pain condition.
Some may think it should be an easy decision for me to CTB--overdue, even--but I have never had the cojones to do so with enough lethality. So far I've tried OD'ing 4 times (diagnosed with chronic gastritis due to the extensive scarring in my stomach) and cutting once (this was one of my more impulsive attempts when I was 17, but I cut for about 9/10 years overall). Statistically, a woman with BPD and bipolar should not be happily married. I shouldn't have a man who is more my caregiver than my husband, who seems to be fine with it. I want to free him of this life, but he says he is the happiest he could ever be. Millions would tell him to run far, far away from me. Yet he clings to me, and I cling to my own life because of it.
I feel like there are things, animals or people that cling to us. Like tendrils from the ground, latching onto us and pulling us close until we can't hurt ourselves. If it weren't for them and the motivational, positive lies they try to fill our heads with, people like me may find courage.
Some may think it should be an easy decision for me to CTB--overdue, even--but I have never had the cojones to do so with enough lethality. So far I've tried OD'ing 4 times (diagnosed with chronic gastritis due to the extensive scarring in my stomach) and cutting once (this was one of my more impulsive attempts when I was 17, but I cut for about 9/10 years overall). Statistically, a woman with BPD and bipolar should not be happily married. I shouldn't have a man who is more my caregiver than my husband, who seems to be fine with it. I want to free him of this life, but he says he is the happiest he could ever be. Millions would tell him to run far, far away from me. Yet he clings to me, and I cling to my own life because of it.
I feel like there are things, animals or people that cling to us. Like tendrils from the ground, latching onto us and pulling us close until we can't hurt ourselves. If it weren't for them and the motivational, positive lies they try to fill our heads with, people like me may find courage.