Disclaimers. Long post. I am currently not planning to CTB. All referrals to "God" in this post are of the Christian belief.
My life has been stacking up to cause me grief and turmoil in these last 5 years. I was doubting the Protestant Christianity I was raised in and my gender identity, but I couldn't talk to anyone in my house about it. All I had were online friends who I didn't want to bother regarding those subjects because they were somewhat younger than me and going through similar experiences. Still, I could repress my thoughts enough, until I got a summer job in June 2021 that I actively started to dread: a waiter job for a retirement home where the head chefs were egotistical and hotheaded. It culminated on July 8 2021 at 6:24 pm (a date and time burned into my eyes) where I put in an order late because my other tables were needy. The head chef got pissed, waited for me to say anything, and I quit on the spot and left mid shift, in tears. My parents were not happy but "felt bad" for me (i.e. wanted to fix me) and it's all gone downhill from there. I tried another job in October 2021, and broke down crying when I had to ask for help; I felt like a thumb twiddling idiot. Dad got more upset at that one and told me "my anxiety was real but the cause of it was not". I have yet to try another job. I thought about something smaller recently, but I cannot bring myself to try something that I'll end up dreading again. Of course, I can't talk about dreading jobs because everyone around me says real people have to work at least 40 hours a week for their foreseeable futures, and anyone who disagrees or doesn't properly function in those settings is lazy and a snowflake.
That's a lot to take in and I apologize for the long block of text, but thinking about any of it always leads me to this question: why should I keep living? I can't fit in to this society, I was raised in homeschool and have poor social interaction from it. This world has brought me to doubt the belief I once accustomed to, so I shouldn't be part of it if it means doubting what could be correct even further. I've now learned to dread work, as well as the future if I ever do find a consistent job that's anything like my dad's (he vents to me about it often). Most importantly, I've shown that I can't "get better" like everyone expects of me. I don't want to keep myself alive if all it means is staying in my parents' house all day not being a useful person. I've tried to disclaim to therapists, psychiatrists and my mother that I am not going to get better, to which they feel obligated to give me hope that what I'm doing right now is fine and not useless. All I can hear when they say that is "we're gonna fix you because every person can be fixed", to which all I can think is "I'm not even a real person. I'm a caricature of isolation and sensitivity."
Why should I keep living? This past year, I've got the impression that God has no important plans for me. Sure, I could look at people with similar pasts who managed to get back on their feet, but I can then also look on the pessimistic side of the coin on the people who couldn't take it anymore, and left the world on their terms. I must be like them. Here's what no one I see talks about: God created everything, and has watched over everything ever since. He also knows everything that happened and will happen. Does this mean he knows of all these people who couldn't look to him in their time of need, in their circumstances? Surely he wouldn't damn those people to hell, who were incapable of knowing him, and welcome them to his love instead. I had hoped that. My conflict stems from others not agreeing. Pastors say there are no exceptions: suicide is a sin that lands you in hell forever. Mom says if she knew I would be safe, she would let me go, but she doesn't. Therapists say it's not worth trying that. So when I do think of CTB, the thought of God sending me to hell forever convinces me to just lie there instead and forget about it again. Forced to survive.
I've tried to bargain with methods. All year I've thought of leaving the house and not coming back, and finding a nice beach or bench to plant myself and naturally pass away. That hope was broken on July 9th, 2022 when I left the house after getting mad at dad outside. I managed to walk enough to find a covered bench to lie for a few hours. Foolishly, I decided to get up and walk somewhere else, and 5 minutes after getting up and moving, a police car pulled over, which led to a hospital taking me to the ER. It was the exact opposite of what I needed; it felt like the closest to hell I ever got. I ended up staying there overnight doing nothing and going back home in the morning after a social work determined I wouldn't try that again. I still think about it, but haven't managed to perform something to get them this upset again.
That's all I have to get off my chest. All I'm left wondering afterwards is, why? Why are these people so stern about keeping me alive, when I have deliberately told them I refuse to fit in to their standards? If I were just depressed and dreadful I would get it, but I've tried to disclaim that it would be the right thing to do for someone this stubborn. I guess it makes more sense from this afterlife perspective. Mom says the moment you die, you open your eyes to see if you're in heaven or hell, with no decisions or final reflections of this physical world. The thought of that is the one thing holding me back. So I wanted to see some other opinions from a source that claims to be unlike these people I've described. Thank you for your time.
My life has been stacking up to cause me grief and turmoil in these last 5 years. I was doubting the Protestant Christianity I was raised in and my gender identity, but I couldn't talk to anyone in my house about it. All I had were online friends who I didn't want to bother regarding those subjects because they were somewhat younger than me and going through similar experiences. Still, I could repress my thoughts enough, until I got a summer job in June 2021 that I actively started to dread: a waiter job for a retirement home where the head chefs were egotistical and hotheaded. It culminated on July 8 2021 at 6:24 pm (a date and time burned into my eyes) where I put in an order late because my other tables were needy. The head chef got pissed, waited for me to say anything, and I quit on the spot and left mid shift, in tears. My parents were not happy but "felt bad" for me (i.e. wanted to fix me) and it's all gone downhill from there. I tried another job in October 2021, and broke down crying when I had to ask for help; I felt like a thumb twiddling idiot. Dad got more upset at that one and told me "my anxiety was real but the cause of it was not". I have yet to try another job. I thought about something smaller recently, but I cannot bring myself to try something that I'll end up dreading again. Of course, I can't talk about dreading jobs because everyone around me says real people have to work at least 40 hours a week for their foreseeable futures, and anyone who disagrees or doesn't properly function in those settings is lazy and a snowflake.
That's a lot to take in and I apologize for the long block of text, but thinking about any of it always leads me to this question: why should I keep living? I can't fit in to this society, I was raised in homeschool and have poor social interaction from it. This world has brought me to doubt the belief I once accustomed to, so I shouldn't be part of it if it means doubting what could be correct even further. I've now learned to dread work, as well as the future if I ever do find a consistent job that's anything like my dad's (he vents to me about it often). Most importantly, I've shown that I can't "get better" like everyone expects of me. I don't want to keep myself alive if all it means is staying in my parents' house all day not being a useful person. I've tried to disclaim to therapists, psychiatrists and my mother that I am not going to get better, to which they feel obligated to give me hope that what I'm doing right now is fine and not useless. All I can hear when they say that is "we're gonna fix you because every person can be fixed", to which all I can think is "I'm not even a real person. I'm a caricature of isolation and sensitivity."
Why should I keep living? This past year, I've got the impression that God has no important plans for me. Sure, I could look at people with similar pasts who managed to get back on their feet, but I can then also look on the pessimistic side of the coin on the people who couldn't take it anymore, and left the world on their terms. I must be like them. Here's what no one I see talks about: God created everything, and has watched over everything ever since. He also knows everything that happened and will happen. Does this mean he knows of all these people who couldn't look to him in their time of need, in their circumstances? Surely he wouldn't damn those people to hell, who were incapable of knowing him, and welcome them to his love instead. I had hoped that. My conflict stems from others not agreeing. Pastors say there are no exceptions: suicide is a sin that lands you in hell forever. Mom says if she knew I would be safe, she would let me go, but she doesn't. Therapists say it's not worth trying that. So when I do think of CTB, the thought of God sending me to hell forever convinces me to just lie there instead and forget about it again. Forced to survive.
I've tried to bargain with methods. All year I've thought of leaving the house and not coming back, and finding a nice beach or bench to plant myself and naturally pass away. That hope was broken on July 9th, 2022 when I left the house after getting mad at dad outside. I managed to walk enough to find a covered bench to lie for a few hours. Foolishly, I decided to get up and walk somewhere else, and 5 minutes after getting up and moving, a police car pulled over, which led to a hospital taking me to the ER. It was the exact opposite of what I needed; it felt like the closest to hell I ever got. I ended up staying there overnight doing nothing and going back home in the morning after a social work determined I wouldn't try that again. I still think about it, but haven't managed to perform something to get them this upset again.
That's all I have to get off my chest. All I'm left wondering afterwards is, why? Why are these people so stern about keeping me alive, when I have deliberately told them I refuse to fit in to their standards? If I were just depressed and dreadful I would get it, but I've tried to disclaim that it would be the right thing to do for someone this stubborn. I guess it makes more sense from this afterlife perspective. Mom says the moment you die, you open your eyes to see if you're in heaven or hell, with no decisions or final reflections of this physical world. The thought of that is the one thing holding me back. So I wanted to see some other opinions from a source that claims to be unlike these people I've described. Thank you for your time.
