Bardia
Member
- Jul 11, 2019
- 42
I've been suffering from depression and suicidal ideation for pretty much my entire adult life, with only a few moments here and there of transient relief. I'm 49, and frankly can't take the pain. People who haven't experienced it really don't know what it's like, obsessing about suicide and mental anguish every day for weeks as they become months, years, decades. The pain is real. The wounds are not visible, but they are all too real, and I have little to no hope that they will ever heal.
I know you all get it; I'm glad I found this forum. Thanks for having me, and for reading this.
I've done everything right to fight this: therapy of various kinds, antidepressants, positive changes to life habits...Superficially, I'm highly successful.
But it always comes back, the rapacious self-hatred. I've just about given up completely. I'm even leaving my job of 16 years because the harm caused by my indifferent, openly suspicious, or even hostile coworkers has become too much to bear. I think I actually have cause to sue for discrimination, but that's another story. People just think I'm being dramatic, a diva, a prima donna. They won't accept the truth. They scorn my truth.
Friends and loved ones? I have some of those. Some of them understand, but they can't help, not really. Peace inside is always fleeting. Depression is a horribly lonely illness.
I don't really want to die, as such. But I feel I must. I need to. The universe does not want me in it.
It's just about time to flick that switch off.
I know you all get it; I'm glad I found this forum. Thanks for having me, and for reading this.
I've done everything right to fight this: therapy of various kinds, antidepressants, positive changes to life habits...Superficially, I'm highly successful.
But it always comes back, the rapacious self-hatred. I've just about given up completely. I'm even leaving my job of 16 years because the harm caused by my indifferent, openly suspicious, or even hostile coworkers has become too much to bear. I think I actually have cause to sue for discrimination, but that's another story. People just think I'm being dramatic, a diva, a prima donna. They won't accept the truth. They scorn my truth.
Friends and loved ones? I have some of those. Some of them understand, but they can't help, not really. Peace inside is always fleeting. Depression is a horribly lonely illness.
I don't really want to die, as such. But I feel I must. I need to. The universe does not want me in it.
It's just about time to flick that switch off.