The thing about suicide is it isn't relief. It's hard to really explain it, but it's just nothing. I suffer in pain, but if I died, that pain would be the last thing I ever felt. There wouldn't be a chance that I'd go on to get the job I dream of, keep my relationship with my sister, escape my abusive family, find joy even with the backdrop of depression and trauma. But there's such a fear that that reality will never become the reality, and I'm exhausted. I wake up every morning so tired. I browse this website. I don't feel like I have it in me to put in the work to make the life I want and to endure the years before I get closer to that reality.
I was a suicidal 5 year old, 10 year old, 15 year old etc. When I was younger, I had this warped perception of death as ultimate relief, as escape. But if I die, if an attempt even killed me instead of leaving my life more messed up then it already is (brain damage terrifies me the most, I'm honestly ok with an attempt that won't lead to brain damage but as someone that has brain damage I don't want more). I miss when I had that idea of death, because I realize now that it's no escape and it's no relief, I'll hurt those around me and for what? The logical answer is to keep going, grind it out, wait for it to happen anyway because I'll die no matter what whether it's now or when I'm much much older. I don't have it in me to keep fighting. I miss back when I had that naive understanding of death as relief. It's not.
A year ago, I attempted suicide by hanging. I've done plenty of mini 'attempts' but this was the proper one. Anyone here that says it isn't painful is wrong. I still have PTSD from it. I remember my surivial instinct kicking in, I remember the mounting pressure in my head and excrutiating pain on my neck, I remember flailing about and accepting that I was going to die. It's what I wanted, and now the decision was done. But I survived. If I had died, the last thing I ever would have felt is that mounting pressure in my head, that pain, that panic. How is that a resolve to my story?
Unfortunatley, I know not of a true resolve. Every time my mother gets bad, when she screams, when I have panic attacks, I go back to that. I want to die, but I want to live. A few days ago, I walked out to the train tracks nearby my house after a bad fight, using the motivation that pain gave me to actually do something. The camera obviously noticed me and the trains started inching along and blaring their horns at me, and I left, because they wouldn't have killed me. I'm terrified of living this life, but death is no answer, and I hate that, because I want an answer. I want an easy way out. I'm too tired. I guess I just have to wait until I have the life I want. But I'm scared I'll kill myself in a fit of pain before that, or worse, attempt again and end up brain damaged or paralyzed or an amputee. I'm constantly back and forth as to whether or not I'll kill myself. Neither option is a good one. I'm just tired, I want the world to stop, I want to be able to live away from these people without going homeless, I want to know that things will be ok. I wish I could go back in time and stop the abuse that I faced but I can't. I wish there was a way to go out where if it did not work I wouldn't end up fucked for life. But there isn't. And that sucks.
Death isn't the miracle cure some of you seem to think it is. It isn't peace, it isn't releif. Releif and peace are feelings. Feelings require you being alive. I don't want my life to end on this note. But I don't want ot keep on living. I miss the naivety of how I viewed death. But it's naive. And it just sucks, I guess. It really sucks.
Deleting this post in a few days, hope I can get some advice or someone responds or something
I was a suicidal 5 year old, 10 year old, 15 year old etc. When I was younger, I had this warped perception of death as ultimate relief, as escape. But if I die, if an attempt even killed me instead of leaving my life more messed up then it already is (brain damage terrifies me the most, I'm honestly ok with an attempt that won't lead to brain damage but as someone that has brain damage I don't want more). I miss when I had that idea of death, because I realize now that it's no escape and it's no relief, I'll hurt those around me and for what? The logical answer is to keep going, grind it out, wait for it to happen anyway because I'll die no matter what whether it's now or when I'm much much older. I don't have it in me to keep fighting. I miss back when I had that naive understanding of death as relief. It's not.
A year ago, I attempted suicide by hanging. I've done plenty of mini 'attempts' but this was the proper one. Anyone here that says it isn't painful is wrong. I still have PTSD from it. I remember my surivial instinct kicking in, I remember the mounting pressure in my head and excrutiating pain on my neck, I remember flailing about and accepting that I was going to die. It's what I wanted, and now the decision was done. But I survived. If I had died, the last thing I ever would have felt is that mounting pressure in my head, that pain, that panic. How is that a resolve to my story?
Unfortunatley, I know not of a true resolve. Every time my mother gets bad, when she screams, when I have panic attacks, I go back to that. I want to die, but I want to live. A few days ago, I walked out to the train tracks nearby my house after a bad fight, using the motivation that pain gave me to actually do something. The camera obviously noticed me and the trains started inching along and blaring their horns at me, and I left, because they wouldn't have killed me. I'm terrified of living this life, but death is no answer, and I hate that, because I want an answer. I want an easy way out. I'm too tired. I guess I just have to wait until I have the life I want. But I'm scared I'll kill myself in a fit of pain before that, or worse, attempt again and end up brain damaged or paralyzed or an amputee. I'm constantly back and forth as to whether or not I'll kill myself. Neither option is a good one. I'm just tired, I want the world to stop, I want to be able to live away from these people without going homeless, I want to know that things will be ok. I wish I could go back in time and stop the abuse that I faced but I can't. I wish there was a way to go out where if it did not work I wouldn't end up fucked for life. But there isn't. And that sucks.
Death isn't the miracle cure some of you seem to think it is. It isn't peace, it isn't releif. Releif and peace are feelings. Feelings require you being alive. I don't want my life to end on this note. But I don't want ot keep on living. I miss the naivety of how I viewed death. But it's naive. And it just sucks, I guess. It really sucks.
Deleting this post in a few days, hope I can get some advice or someone responds or something
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