ClockWorks
Wish I Could Just Enjoy the Silence
- Apr 15, 2023
- 25
I have no one to share this to so I wanted to tell this small victory of mine somewhere.
A little over a year ago, I had tried to CTB and failed. I was in a dysfunctional home and just wanted to feel supported and loved, yet the only option I had was to get a scholarship to study abroad and rebuild my life... Completely alone. And to some extent, just "overcoming" all the injustices and trauma I faced from childhood to early adulthood. It felt so wrong to me. Why do my abusers get to live their lives while I have to carry all the mental, physicial, and emotional burdens of the shit they did; and then I have to be the one to move on from it? No one will ever know what I gone through, no one will ever feel for me.
What no one told me about recovery was just how much that first attempt fucks you up in terms of worldview. Choosing to CTB basically meant looking at everything in my life and deciding that it was cool and all, but I don't care about it enough to keep going forward. After it failed, I kept thinking to myself: Why would I decide to pursue anything I enjoyed again? What's stopping me from attempt number 2?
I never confronted those emotions, instead I just became passively suicidal. I had the vague idea that I will just keep trying to live until maybe my life will get better or I'll be in a better position to CTB. That didn't last at all.
By some cruel fate, I managed to be in both a severely depressive spiral and also learned that I had the lethal dosage of a prescription drug. My brain went completely fucking haywire.
Two nights ago, I felt ready to just fucking CTB just like I was a year back. The only thing that stopped me was the fact I was in medication that would counteract the effects, I was already scheduling when I would do it. I eventually decided on a different week, I would try to do whatever work I had to finish until then. I didn't know If anything would change my mind, I felt like I wasn't going to survive to see February anyways.
I went to bed feeling like absolutely shit, the morning after I couldn't process or move forward with anything. I just kept debating the justification of doing it. Does my life have any meaning? Why should I go on?
I was sitting at my desk while browsing through threads on death and existentialism when I had realized then there was no way I was going to be able to pursue any goals I had in mind if I kept thinking that death was always an option. For me, I never treated it like just an option, I felt like it was a goddamn safety net that I was willing to fall back on continuously. It was holding me back and I couldn't judge if living was worth it if I wasn't going to commit fully. I couldn't stay in this limbo. If I wasn't willing to overdose right now, I had to make the choice.
I flushed those pills down the toilet. I didn't feel better, I was half sure that I was going to curse myself for doing it in the future. But I still did it.
This morning my mother and I had a screaming match, I went back to my room and cried my eyes out. In the afternoon, I felt like shit staring at how malnourished I was in the mirror. This evening, I was still procrastinating and didn't make any progress towards what I wanted to achieve.
I don't know why I am alive. I don't know what meaning I'm striving towards. I know I'm going to keep feeling like shit this week and I'll end up doing things I'll regret later. I know I'm going to be jealous of people for never having gone through what I did. But I think I can live with it all, and I think that I can find the reason I was born one day.
Thank you for reading.
A little over a year ago, I had tried to CTB and failed. I was in a dysfunctional home and just wanted to feel supported and loved, yet the only option I had was to get a scholarship to study abroad and rebuild my life... Completely alone. And to some extent, just "overcoming" all the injustices and trauma I faced from childhood to early adulthood. It felt so wrong to me. Why do my abusers get to live their lives while I have to carry all the mental, physicial, and emotional burdens of the shit they did; and then I have to be the one to move on from it? No one will ever know what I gone through, no one will ever feel for me.
What no one told me about recovery was just how much that first attempt fucks you up in terms of worldview. Choosing to CTB basically meant looking at everything in my life and deciding that it was cool and all, but I don't care about it enough to keep going forward. After it failed, I kept thinking to myself: Why would I decide to pursue anything I enjoyed again? What's stopping me from attempt number 2?
I never confronted those emotions, instead I just became passively suicidal. I had the vague idea that I will just keep trying to live until maybe my life will get better or I'll be in a better position to CTB. That didn't last at all.
By some cruel fate, I managed to be in both a severely depressive spiral and also learned that I had the lethal dosage of a prescription drug. My brain went completely fucking haywire.
Two nights ago, I felt ready to just fucking CTB just like I was a year back. The only thing that stopped me was the fact I was in medication that would counteract the effects, I was already scheduling when I would do it. I eventually decided on a different week, I would try to do whatever work I had to finish until then. I didn't know If anything would change my mind, I felt like I wasn't going to survive to see February anyways.
I went to bed feeling like absolutely shit, the morning after I couldn't process or move forward with anything. I just kept debating the justification of doing it. Does my life have any meaning? Why should I go on?
I was sitting at my desk while browsing through threads on death and existentialism when I had realized then there was no way I was going to be able to pursue any goals I had in mind if I kept thinking that death was always an option. For me, I never treated it like just an option, I felt like it was a goddamn safety net that I was willing to fall back on continuously. It was holding me back and I couldn't judge if living was worth it if I wasn't going to commit fully. I couldn't stay in this limbo. If I wasn't willing to overdose right now, I had to make the choice.
I flushed those pills down the toilet. I didn't feel better, I was half sure that I was going to curse myself for doing it in the future. But I still did it.
This morning my mother and I had a screaming match, I went back to my room and cried my eyes out. In the afternoon, I felt like shit staring at how malnourished I was in the mirror. This evening, I was still procrastinating and didn't make any progress towards what I wanted to achieve.
I don't know why I am alive. I don't know what meaning I'm striving towards. I know I'm going to keep feeling like shit this week and I'll end up doing things I'll regret later. I know I'm going to be jealous of people for never having gone through what I did. But I think I can live with it all, and I think that I can find the reason I was born one day.
Thank you for reading.
