BojackHorseman
The View From Halfway Down
- Feb 8, 2023
- 104
Hello everyone. I've been reading others posts for awhile, but this is my first time posting. I'm nervous, but I have so much to say about how I feel that I don't know where to begin.
My suicidal depression and anxiety started at about 3 years old. My father used to berate me on a weekly basis as I was growing up that I was a nuisance that ruined his life. It was my fault we were poor, my fault he couldn't afford nice things, my fault his life was terrible, and even my fault that my mother wouldn't have sex with him? So as early as 3 years old I remember wanting to die. Not necessarily wanting to "kill myself" but just wishing I was dead. See my grandma used to sing gospel songs about how wonderful heaven is and all that so my child self thought that if I could go ahead and go "home" to heaven then I would be happy and mommy and daddy would be happy. Obviously as I grew these thoughts turned into actual suicidal thoughts and self harm. After my parents noticed all my scars (and it was quite a few scars before they noticed) my father gave me a gift of a hunting knife and a gun...
But I'm 31 years old now, and I've been married and out of that house since I was 19. I cut off all contact with both my parents. My mother wasn't actively abusive like my father, she was just an enabler I guess you could say. She never stopped him. I try not to be angry with her and remind myself she is a victim of domestic violence, but its hard. I cut her out of my life because she absolutely refuses to stop forcing him on me. She tried to force me to bring my step kids around him after I explicitly said NO to him ever being around my children. I don't even want him mentioned to my kids.
That's all a very very shortened version of my childhood. Good news, in the end I married a WONDERFUL man, who absolutely adores me for some reason. God only knows why he loves me, but he does. I know he does or he wouldn't put up with me. I have no doubt in my mind that once my dog dies (she's 16 and the only reason I survived with my father, I couldn't abandon her with him) that if I didn't have my husband, I would end it.
Him and my ol dog are literally the only things that keep me alive. And I feel like absolute shit for it. When I was growing up, I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. I thought if I could just get away from here, I would be all better. I'd be fine. Normal. Well it's going on 11 years now....... and I'm not better. My life is INFINITELY better, but I dont feel better. The light at the end of the tunnel wasn't real. I can't help but think that if I can't feel ok when I have such a good life now, then ain't nothing ever gonna make me feel ok, so what's the god damn point? And I feel so fucking guilty for feeling that way. My husband takes every thing I do very personally. If he thinks he's hurt me in the slightest, it absolutely devastates him. If I'm having a particularly hard day where I can't hide my sadness, his first thought is that he's done something wrong, when of course he hasn't. He will comment that he's sorry he doesn't treat me better and that I deserve so much more than he can give. He puts me on this great big pedestal and its... sad and uncomfortable and difficult. He would be absolutely DEVASTATED if he knew just how I felt. He would blame himself, even though he is perfect and wonderful. I very much try to tell him thank you and how much I appreciate him all the time to help him feel better. I know what yall are probably thinking, he's trying to manipulate/guilt trip me. I assure you he isn't, he comes from a place of love. He has issues of his own. He grew up being called worthless due to a speech impediment he had only during elementary school, among some other cruel things from his father. He's alot like me in that sense.
Sorry, didn't mean to go off on a tangent about my husband. I just love him so much it hurts. It hurts to love him and want to be with him SO much, but simultaneously want SO badly not to be here. I want nothing more than to spend every waking moment with him and the dogs, playing video games, reading manga, riding motorcycles, lounging around in bed and making love. I know he feels the same. In those moments I feel fine, even happy. But let's be real, I doubt any of us here are billionaires. Think logically about life, how much is time is spent being miserable so that we can enjoy a few moments of happiness? We all have to go to work and do other crap like that, it's not all fun and games. I HATE my job. Without boring yall with the details of what I do, I am a healthcare worker. My day is spent being yelled at and disrespected by other departments for simply trying to do my job according to procedure and in the best interest of the patient. It is EXHAUSTING. I can't handle the stress. Every single time I get yelled at I feel it in my chest, I get nauseous, I feel the veins in my head throb like their gonna explode until it suddenly stops and then I feel like I'm gonna faint. The job definitely triggers my depression. When we both have the day off together, I don't have suicidal thoughts. But pretty much every day I work, or if I'm off and he has to work and I'm left home alone, I have suicidal thoughts. We have 1-2 days off a week together that we truly get to enjoy our time together, and they are wonderful, but its getting to the point after all these years that the other 5-6 days that we don't get to relax together are just too much to handle. He works alot of overtime, and it breaks my heart. I feel selfish for not having to balls to finally end it cause then he could get all my life insurance and he wouldn't have to work anymore. I would finally be at peace, and he wouldn't have to work and could live a comfortable and quiet life. It's a win-win. I know he would be devastated without me for awhile, but if he would just give it time, he would realize that it's for the best. That I'm not as great as he thinks and that having the money to quit working so much would be much better for him.
He knows I struggle with depression and anxiety, but he doesn't seem to understand just how badly? Or maybe he is in denial? I think maybe he thinks what I used to think, that now since I'm away from my father that I must obviously feel better. But I dont. He asks me alot if I'm ok. Of course I say I'm fine so not to worry him, and of course he worries I'm lying so he asks me if I'm sure. I don't know why "are you ok" is such a hard question for me. When I have a bad panic attack from work or something that I can't hide, I tell him I'm not ok. He consoles me until I calm down, but he seems to maybe think that after I'm calm that I'm "ok". I'm not ok, I've just got my shit back together for the time being. When I say to him "I'm not ok" that means I hate myself and I don't want to be here anymore. But I can't bring myself to say that to him. That's on me, not him. Why is it so hard to tell him the truth? I want him to know so badly. I wish he knew how badly my soul hurts inside, how much I hurt and just want it over with. I wish he would understand. I wish he would let me go, knowing that it's not his fault and that I love him more than anything, and that I'm so so sorry I couldn't be stronger to stay around for him. My very sick great aunt died a few months ago. I couldn't help but feel jealous as I sat through the funeral. My grandma and the preacher talked about how sad it is that she's gone, but how happy they are for her suffering to be over. I wish I could end it and my husband and grandma would say the same for me. That's my ultimate wish.
Sorry to ramble so much. I'm just really struggling the past couple days. Thank you to anyone who read anything I had to say. And if anyone feels the way I do, please know that I send my love and hope you manage to find peace.
My suicidal depression and anxiety started at about 3 years old. My father used to berate me on a weekly basis as I was growing up that I was a nuisance that ruined his life. It was my fault we were poor, my fault he couldn't afford nice things, my fault his life was terrible, and even my fault that my mother wouldn't have sex with him? So as early as 3 years old I remember wanting to die. Not necessarily wanting to "kill myself" but just wishing I was dead. See my grandma used to sing gospel songs about how wonderful heaven is and all that so my child self thought that if I could go ahead and go "home" to heaven then I would be happy and mommy and daddy would be happy. Obviously as I grew these thoughts turned into actual suicidal thoughts and self harm. After my parents noticed all my scars (and it was quite a few scars before they noticed) my father gave me a gift of a hunting knife and a gun...
But I'm 31 years old now, and I've been married and out of that house since I was 19. I cut off all contact with both my parents. My mother wasn't actively abusive like my father, she was just an enabler I guess you could say. She never stopped him. I try not to be angry with her and remind myself she is a victim of domestic violence, but its hard. I cut her out of my life because she absolutely refuses to stop forcing him on me. She tried to force me to bring my step kids around him after I explicitly said NO to him ever being around my children. I don't even want him mentioned to my kids.
That's all a very very shortened version of my childhood. Good news, in the end I married a WONDERFUL man, who absolutely adores me for some reason. God only knows why he loves me, but he does. I know he does or he wouldn't put up with me. I have no doubt in my mind that once my dog dies (she's 16 and the only reason I survived with my father, I couldn't abandon her with him) that if I didn't have my husband, I would end it.
Him and my ol dog are literally the only things that keep me alive. And I feel like absolute shit for it. When I was growing up, I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. I thought if I could just get away from here, I would be all better. I'd be fine. Normal. Well it's going on 11 years now....... and I'm not better. My life is INFINITELY better, but I dont feel better. The light at the end of the tunnel wasn't real. I can't help but think that if I can't feel ok when I have such a good life now, then ain't nothing ever gonna make me feel ok, so what's the god damn point? And I feel so fucking guilty for feeling that way. My husband takes every thing I do very personally. If he thinks he's hurt me in the slightest, it absolutely devastates him. If I'm having a particularly hard day where I can't hide my sadness, his first thought is that he's done something wrong, when of course he hasn't. He will comment that he's sorry he doesn't treat me better and that I deserve so much more than he can give. He puts me on this great big pedestal and its... sad and uncomfortable and difficult. He would be absolutely DEVASTATED if he knew just how I felt. He would blame himself, even though he is perfect and wonderful. I very much try to tell him thank you and how much I appreciate him all the time to help him feel better. I know what yall are probably thinking, he's trying to manipulate/guilt trip me. I assure you he isn't, he comes from a place of love. He has issues of his own. He grew up being called worthless due to a speech impediment he had only during elementary school, among some other cruel things from his father. He's alot like me in that sense.
Sorry, didn't mean to go off on a tangent about my husband. I just love him so much it hurts. It hurts to love him and want to be with him SO much, but simultaneously want SO badly not to be here. I want nothing more than to spend every waking moment with him and the dogs, playing video games, reading manga, riding motorcycles, lounging around in bed and making love. I know he feels the same. In those moments I feel fine, even happy. But let's be real, I doubt any of us here are billionaires. Think logically about life, how much is time is spent being miserable so that we can enjoy a few moments of happiness? We all have to go to work and do other crap like that, it's not all fun and games. I HATE my job. Without boring yall with the details of what I do, I am a healthcare worker. My day is spent being yelled at and disrespected by other departments for simply trying to do my job according to procedure and in the best interest of the patient. It is EXHAUSTING. I can't handle the stress. Every single time I get yelled at I feel it in my chest, I get nauseous, I feel the veins in my head throb like their gonna explode until it suddenly stops and then I feel like I'm gonna faint. The job definitely triggers my depression. When we both have the day off together, I don't have suicidal thoughts. But pretty much every day I work, or if I'm off and he has to work and I'm left home alone, I have suicidal thoughts. We have 1-2 days off a week together that we truly get to enjoy our time together, and they are wonderful, but its getting to the point after all these years that the other 5-6 days that we don't get to relax together are just too much to handle. He works alot of overtime, and it breaks my heart. I feel selfish for not having to balls to finally end it cause then he could get all my life insurance and he wouldn't have to work anymore. I would finally be at peace, and he wouldn't have to work and could live a comfortable and quiet life. It's a win-win. I know he would be devastated without me for awhile, but if he would just give it time, he would realize that it's for the best. That I'm not as great as he thinks and that having the money to quit working so much would be much better for him.
He knows I struggle with depression and anxiety, but he doesn't seem to understand just how badly? Or maybe he is in denial? I think maybe he thinks what I used to think, that now since I'm away from my father that I must obviously feel better. But I dont. He asks me alot if I'm ok. Of course I say I'm fine so not to worry him, and of course he worries I'm lying so he asks me if I'm sure. I don't know why "are you ok" is such a hard question for me. When I have a bad panic attack from work or something that I can't hide, I tell him I'm not ok. He consoles me until I calm down, but he seems to maybe think that after I'm calm that I'm "ok". I'm not ok, I've just got my shit back together for the time being. When I say to him "I'm not ok" that means I hate myself and I don't want to be here anymore. But I can't bring myself to say that to him. That's on me, not him. Why is it so hard to tell him the truth? I want him to know so badly. I wish he knew how badly my soul hurts inside, how much I hurt and just want it over with. I wish he would understand. I wish he would let me go, knowing that it's not his fault and that I love him more than anything, and that I'm so so sorry I couldn't be stronger to stay around for him. My very sick great aunt died a few months ago. I couldn't help but feel jealous as I sat through the funeral. My grandma and the preacher talked about how sad it is that she's gone, but how happy they are for her suffering to be over. I wish I could end it and my husband and grandma would say the same for me. That's my ultimate wish.
Sorry to ramble so much. I'm just really struggling the past couple days. Thank you to anyone who read anything I had to say. And if anyone feels the way I do, please know that I send my love and hope you manage to find peace.
