sk3let0n
Member
- Jun 24, 2023
- 7
Forgive the post, it's going to be a long one.
I've had suicide in the back of my mind for a while. I'm diagnosed with manic depression since I was thirteen, and had anorexia nervosa since I was fourteen.
Recently, I've dropped to my lowest weight.
Before dropping to my lowest weight and prior to developing anorexia nervosa, my family didn't notice me. They didn't care. I was always the fat, ugly stain on the family - the human trash can. The kid who ate whatever and whenever he wanted, always went back for seconds, and ate what the others didn't want. I was a foodie, truly. My father even told me once that I make him look like a shit parent because of how disgustingly overweight I was.
I would go out for hours, sometimes reaching up to 12-15 hours out of my house, and they wouldn't even notice I left. On Boxing Day, I was out from 8am to 9pm literally just walking. I hit my highest step count that day, because I was forced to eat the night before on Christmas (this took a toll on me and left me bedridden for the next two days). When I got back, my entire family was just doing their own thing and didn't even notice I'd left or walked through the front door again.
They'd sure as shit know if my sister or bother left, though. My mum would constantly harass my sister with text messages asking if and when she'd be back home, where she'd gone, who she was with, and my sister was and is an adult (she's 19 now). At Christmas, I was only 17. If my sister didn't eat for the day, it was such a huge family event and she was coddled and treated like a baby. If I didn't, it was assumed I'd probably eat a shit ton later on. I was underweight at Christmas. My brother has to be taken everywhere by my dad, and again bombarded with text messages and calls if he'd been out for a few minutes too long.
This was never the case for me, as I've mentioned.
Then, my grades started getting good. Like, REALLY good. I was on a streak of getting A*A*A*, and my family started to notice me. Mind you, my sister is averaging a DDD, and she failed her maths exam. She was still treated like a princess.
Then, I dropped to my lowest weight. They started to care. They started to act like my life had value to them, and that they were "worried" about me. They'd never worried about me before. Ever. When I collapsed and was put on a shit ton of medication, they didn't care. I have to be weighed every week by my doctors, they couldn't care less. When an ambulance was sent to my house because my doctor thought I was in immediate danger of killing myself, they sent the ambulance away and convinced them I'm fine. I had no say in this. I was not fine, they didn't even ask me.
The only day they'd care about me was payday, and that was because I was putting money in their pockets. I had to give them a shit ton of money just to live in my own house. I don't even make £300 a month, and yet they'd take more than half and leave me to fend for myself. By that I mean I'd barely have enough money to cover transport to and from school, and to and from work. I didn't have any extra spending money, even though I earned it all by myself. I work two jobs, by the way. Just to make them happy. They're not poor by any means, and it's not as if they're in dire need of money. They have money; they just want mine.
Only now they care, but still not in the way that you'd imagine. They call me disgusting and revolting, and say that I look absolutely horrid. Their "care" is throwing insults at me and calling me gross. But, they've also started to ask me where I'm going and what I'm doing.
So, there we go. I know you'd probably would have expected me to ctb a long, long time ago, but I had friends then. Now, I do not. They've all decided they don't want to be around an anorexic freak who won't go out partying or won't go to restaurants because of the calories. You probably think I'm pathetic, too. Not that I care anymore.
Anyway, I have my method. I'm going to do it after I get my A-Level results. I have to know before I go. I'll write a note.
I've had suicide in the back of my mind for a while. I'm diagnosed with manic depression since I was thirteen, and had anorexia nervosa since I was fourteen.
Recently, I've dropped to my lowest weight.
Before dropping to my lowest weight and prior to developing anorexia nervosa, my family didn't notice me. They didn't care. I was always the fat, ugly stain on the family - the human trash can. The kid who ate whatever and whenever he wanted, always went back for seconds, and ate what the others didn't want. I was a foodie, truly. My father even told me once that I make him look like a shit parent because of how disgustingly overweight I was.
I would go out for hours, sometimes reaching up to 12-15 hours out of my house, and they wouldn't even notice I left. On Boxing Day, I was out from 8am to 9pm literally just walking. I hit my highest step count that day, because I was forced to eat the night before on Christmas (this took a toll on me and left me bedridden for the next two days). When I got back, my entire family was just doing their own thing and didn't even notice I'd left or walked through the front door again.
They'd sure as shit know if my sister or bother left, though. My mum would constantly harass my sister with text messages asking if and when she'd be back home, where she'd gone, who she was with, and my sister was and is an adult (she's 19 now). At Christmas, I was only 17. If my sister didn't eat for the day, it was such a huge family event and she was coddled and treated like a baby. If I didn't, it was assumed I'd probably eat a shit ton later on. I was underweight at Christmas. My brother has to be taken everywhere by my dad, and again bombarded with text messages and calls if he'd been out for a few minutes too long.
This was never the case for me, as I've mentioned.
Then, my grades started getting good. Like, REALLY good. I was on a streak of getting A*A*A*, and my family started to notice me. Mind you, my sister is averaging a DDD, and she failed her maths exam. She was still treated like a princess.
Then, I dropped to my lowest weight. They started to care. They started to act like my life had value to them, and that they were "worried" about me. They'd never worried about me before. Ever. When I collapsed and was put on a shit ton of medication, they didn't care. I have to be weighed every week by my doctors, they couldn't care less. When an ambulance was sent to my house because my doctor thought I was in immediate danger of killing myself, they sent the ambulance away and convinced them I'm fine. I had no say in this. I was not fine, they didn't even ask me.
The only day they'd care about me was payday, and that was because I was putting money in their pockets. I had to give them a shit ton of money just to live in my own house. I don't even make £300 a month, and yet they'd take more than half and leave me to fend for myself. By that I mean I'd barely have enough money to cover transport to and from school, and to and from work. I didn't have any extra spending money, even though I earned it all by myself. I work two jobs, by the way. Just to make them happy. They're not poor by any means, and it's not as if they're in dire need of money. They have money; they just want mine.
Only now they care, but still not in the way that you'd imagine. They call me disgusting and revolting, and say that I look absolutely horrid. Their "care" is throwing insults at me and calling me gross. But, they've also started to ask me where I'm going and what I'm doing.
So, there we go. I know you'd probably would have expected me to ctb a long, long time ago, but I had friends then. Now, I do not. They've all decided they don't want to be around an anorexic freak who won't go out partying or won't go to restaurants because of the calories. You probably think I'm pathetic, too. Not that I care anymore.
Anyway, I have my method. I'm going to do it after I get my A-Level results. I have to know before I go. I'll write a note.