
dissociatedmess
Member
- Apr 30, 2022
- 16
Hello,
I'm Dissociatedmess, but you can call me Daisy (No it isn't my real name, just easier to type out than "Dissociatedmess.") I have been a quiet observer on this forum for two years, especially after I lost a good friend (ctb) in July 2020. I'll be honest, I'm not entirely sure what I want to accomplish here, I just wanted a space where I could chat openly about how I'm feeling without someone sticking me in the loony bin for suicidal thoughts/ideation or planning.
I don't know when it all began, but I know I was "wrong" from a very young age. Everything I did, said, thought about, it was all wrong. My temper has always been an issue, and my oversensitivity to everything around me. In my teenage years, they said I was bipolar and stuck me on antipsychotics that only made me sick. Turns out I wasn't bipolar after all. After a time, they said BPD. Then they said it wasnt BPD, but it was C-PTSD. Then it wasn't either of those, it was actually OSDD. Now it's both OSDD and BPD. Whatever the hell it is, the anxiety, depression, guilt/shame for existing is all too much. I literally feel ashamed that I am alive.
I started self harming at eleven. I got found out at thirteen, which just got me screamed at. If i was suicidal, I was met with eye rolls from my parents. My dad would laugh at me. I broke the shower rod trying to hang myself on it when I was a teen and my dad just laughed. I was always so stupid. I spent a lot of time in my closet, hoping to gain the courage to just do it already. Use the cables, rope, anything you can find. I was painfully unaware how difficult it actually is to kill yourself. I am a failure at everything, I even fail at dying.
At seventeen I ran away. I couldnt take the screaming, the name calling, the eye rolls, the mocking, things being thrown at me, all the threats to hurt me. I couldn't take feeling so worthless and if I couldn't die I had to leave.
It's been ten years, and I haven't stopped moving ever since.
I've lived in nineteen different homes since then. I've been in abusive relationships, I've been abusive in them. I've been in different countries, married, divorced.
I'm finally in therapy, and I feel heard. I feel seen by her. She is open and understanding of my OSDD1b system, and is carefully treading the waters of BPD with me.
I'm in a relationship with one of the nicest men I've met. He's never halfway yelled at me, he's never so much as glared at me. He's patient, kind, ambitious, observant, and also knows how to take care of himself and keep his own boundaries. I've learned so much from him.
But he deserves better than me.
And no matter how much therapy I go through, I still feel worthless.
There's a chronic emptiness and shame that doesn't budge for neither time nor effort.
So I sometimes look at my partner, when he's not looking, and my eyes well up because he is so worthy, so capable, and I love him so much, but he doesn't understand how much better without me he would be.
The shame creeps back.
Why am I feeling so empty and broken, when everything is going so well?
I can look around my life. I have a home, relationship, friend group, my own ambitions I work toward.
So why am I still suicidal?
Why am I here?
I wish I had the answer.
I'm Dissociatedmess, but you can call me Daisy (No it isn't my real name, just easier to type out than "Dissociatedmess.") I have been a quiet observer on this forum for two years, especially after I lost a good friend (ctb) in July 2020. I'll be honest, I'm not entirely sure what I want to accomplish here, I just wanted a space where I could chat openly about how I'm feeling without someone sticking me in the loony bin for suicidal thoughts/ideation or planning.
I don't know when it all began, but I know I was "wrong" from a very young age. Everything I did, said, thought about, it was all wrong. My temper has always been an issue, and my oversensitivity to everything around me. In my teenage years, they said I was bipolar and stuck me on antipsychotics that only made me sick. Turns out I wasn't bipolar after all. After a time, they said BPD. Then they said it wasnt BPD, but it was C-PTSD. Then it wasn't either of those, it was actually OSDD. Now it's both OSDD and BPD. Whatever the hell it is, the anxiety, depression, guilt/shame for existing is all too much. I literally feel ashamed that I am alive.
I started self harming at eleven. I got found out at thirteen, which just got me screamed at. If i was suicidal, I was met with eye rolls from my parents. My dad would laugh at me. I broke the shower rod trying to hang myself on it when I was a teen and my dad just laughed. I was always so stupid. I spent a lot of time in my closet, hoping to gain the courage to just do it already. Use the cables, rope, anything you can find. I was painfully unaware how difficult it actually is to kill yourself. I am a failure at everything, I even fail at dying.
At seventeen I ran away. I couldnt take the screaming, the name calling, the eye rolls, the mocking, things being thrown at me, all the threats to hurt me. I couldn't take feeling so worthless and if I couldn't die I had to leave.
It's been ten years, and I haven't stopped moving ever since.
I've lived in nineteen different homes since then. I've been in abusive relationships, I've been abusive in them. I've been in different countries, married, divorced.
I'm finally in therapy, and I feel heard. I feel seen by her. She is open and understanding of my OSDD1b system, and is carefully treading the waters of BPD with me.
I'm in a relationship with one of the nicest men I've met. He's never halfway yelled at me, he's never so much as glared at me. He's patient, kind, ambitious, observant, and also knows how to take care of himself and keep his own boundaries. I've learned so much from him.
But he deserves better than me.
And no matter how much therapy I go through, I still feel worthless.
There's a chronic emptiness and shame that doesn't budge for neither time nor effort.
So I sometimes look at my partner, when he's not looking, and my eyes well up because he is so worthy, so capable, and I love him so much, but he doesn't understand how much better without me he would be.
The shame creeps back.
Why am I feeling so empty and broken, when everything is going so well?
I can look around my life. I have a home, relationship, friend group, my own ambitions I work toward.
So why am I still suicidal?
Why am I here?
I wish I had the answer.
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