mukluk0713
Loves you all!
- Jan 30, 2020
- 39
Hello all! Hopefully I'm not violating any rules or posting in the wrong place. I just joined after lurking for a bit, it is a very comforting place to come across when usually actual discussion of ending the pain is limited to recommendations for professional help or useless platitudes. I also just wanted a place to get my whole story out there without having to feel like I'm ruining someone's day or being looked at like a whiner, lol. Trigger warnings for anyone who doesn't wish to read about abuse, both sexual and physical, or violent deaths. Not sure if that's necessary but figure I'll be polite and throw them in there.
I can remember being as young as 6 and wanting to kill myself. I was raped frequently by two family members when I was younger. Other family members mostly covered it up and got angry at me when I came out about it later. They deny doing this, but of course they do. I love them in my own way, but I was eager to escape. I got married young to my first serious boyfriend, who I met fleeing his abusive father when he was 16 and he stayed with my family (irony). Later we moved in together. All of the members of the sheriff's department were close with his father and continually refused to protect him and his mother. Finally his dad came to make good on his threats and kill him and my soon to be husband shot and killed his father in front of me. During the trial, the state police became involved and a lot of the corrupt bullshit of the sheriff's department came out and he walked with probation. We got married during the waiting for the trial. The day before the actual trial, my husband's uncle came over complaining of chest pains. I told him he sounded like he was having a heart attack but he didn't like me, as he assumed in his denial and grief that it had actually been me who killed his brother. So he refused all of my advice. We went to take my husband to say his goodbyes to family members in case they put him away and got a call that he had collapsed. The family was so worried about money they didn't call EMS until we told them to. We got there before the ambulance and tried CPR but he died anyways. That was my second person I watched die.
In between there were a lot of dogs that died. I love dogs more than people. They've always been my life, especially when I found out I couldn't have children. His grandma was an animal hoarder and I hated the conditions she kept her dogs in. Tried multiple times to get them rehomed but animal control never cared to do anything and I didn't have anywhere to take them. Had to watch them die and bury them. So many dogs, so many preventable deaths. It still breaks my heart to remember. I also lost my doggie soulmate, my big girl Saska. She was actually an illegal hybrid, an alaskan malamute that had too much wolf in her, but we didn't know that until close to her death when we were taking her into the vet. She was a rescue that we got at 5 years old and I've never had a dog like her before or since. I loved her so much. She got cancer and had a brain tumor and we had to put her down. I've never experienced any pain like losing Saska, to this day it destroys me. It's still perplexing to me that dogs get such peaceful deaths on the table but humans have to go horrifically slow and deal with all of this bullshit and pain.
This became especially perplexing when I had to move across several states for 6 months to help family I was close with take care of a dying family member, one of the ones who had raped me actually. I'm compassionate and came to forgive him, seeing his pain and the way he had to go definitely made me feel like he had paid his due for what he had done. But it was very troubling. My girl Saska got a peaceful escape from her terminal disease and there were some days speaking with my family where they would say they hoped he died soon, just to not have to go through it anymore. But mental anguish is treated like fake cries for attention and avoided. How strange.
Anyways, my husband refused help for the PTSD from everything, which I was willing to work exclusively to pay for and even forgo my own help, and he started cheating and then became abusive. After testifying for him and working and handing him all of my money and doing anything he wanted, it was just never good enough. I kept taking it, thinking like most women do that he'd stop and go back to himself. Then I resigned myself to it. I wanted to die, had wanted to for some time, thought maybe he'd do it after all of his threats but he never did. Resigned to do it myself. But I never found the courage. I would always back out. Finally late last year, he broke my nose and busted my cheek open and I got tired of dealing with the pain. I left to stay with friends. That's where I am now. I'm a burden and they gradually grow to hate me, like everywhere I go, but that just seems to be my lot in life in general lol.
I still have not found any joy. Any pleasure in life. Any happiness. I take antidepressants that do not help. I've tried all kinds. The only things I enjoyed were my dogs and he put them in his grandmother's name so I could not get them. He only hurt me though, I know he will take care of them, strange as it sounds. I don't love him anymore so leaving him doesn't bother me but losing my dogs tears me apart inside. I've gotten a job, paradoxically working in a mental ward, but it just feels so fake to tell them to live and have hope and all of these things I can't even tell myself. Having to fight off their attempts to kill themselves when I want to die myself. So backwards and horrible. They have it so much worse than me and here I am making them live. I suppose I do find joy in helping others but it seems so rare that one of them says I help rather than cussing me out or trying to fight me over not giving them an extra snack or something dumb like that.
I've considered many methods to end it. Mostly, I just want to get drunk before the end but guns just seem too... messy. Watching my former father in law die by one, he did not look very comfortable or peaceful. I've thought about fentanyl but being in a new place, I'm not sure where to even begin looking without someone trying to put me away (maybe where I work at LOL). The SN method seems worthy but considering but I throw up easily, not sure if I could keep it down. I've lived recklessly, almost hoping something will end it, but I must be lucky.
And I feel like a whiner just writing it all. But eh. I guess it feels good to get out there. Hopefully someone will feel less alone reading it.
Kudos if you made it all the way to the end. Sorry for the novel LOL.
I can remember being as young as 6 and wanting to kill myself. I was raped frequently by two family members when I was younger. Other family members mostly covered it up and got angry at me when I came out about it later. They deny doing this, but of course they do. I love them in my own way, but I was eager to escape. I got married young to my first serious boyfriend, who I met fleeing his abusive father when he was 16 and he stayed with my family (irony). Later we moved in together. All of the members of the sheriff's department were close with his father and continually refused to protect him and his mother. Finally his dad came to make good on his threats and kill him and my soon to be husband shot and killed his father in front of me. During the trial, the state police became involved and a lot of the corrupt bullshit of the sheriff's department came out and he walked with probation. We got married during the waiting for the trial. The day before the actual trial, my husband's uncle came over complaining of chest pains. I told him he sounded like he was having a heart attack but he didn't like me, as he assumed in his denial and grief that it had actually been me who killed his brother. So he refused all of my advice. We went to take my husband to say his goodbyes to family members in case they put him away and got a call that he had collapsed. The family was so worried about money they didn't call EMS until we told them to. We got there before the ambulance and tried CPR but he died anyways. That was my second person I watched die.
In between there were a lot of dogs that died. I love dogs more than people. They've always been my life, especially when I found out I couldn't have children. His grandma was an animal hoarder and I hated the conditions she kept her dogs in. Tried multiple times to get them rehomed but animal control never cared to do anything and I didn't have anywhere to take them. Had to watch them die and bury them. So many dogs, so many preventable deaths. It still breaks my heart to remember. I also lost my doggie soulmate, my big girl Saska. She was actually an illegal hybrid, an alaskan malamute that had too much wolf in her, but we didn't know that until close to her death when we were taking her into the vet. She was a rescue that we got at 5 years old and I've never had a dog like her before or since. I loved her so much. She got cancer and had a brain tumor and we had to put her down. I've never experienced any pain like losing Saska, to this day it destroys me. It's still perplexing to me that dogs get such peaceful deaths on the table but humans have to go horrifically slow and deal with all of this bullshit and pain.
This became especially perplexing when I had to move across several states for 6 months to help family I was close with take care of a dying family member, one of the ones who had raped me actually. I'm compassionate and came to forgive him, seeing his pain and the way he had to go definitely made me feel like he had paid his due for what he had done. But it was very troubling. My girl Saska got a peaceful escape from her terminal disease and there were some days speaking with my family where they would say they hoped he died soon, just to not have to go through it anymore. But mental anguish is treated like fake cries for attention and avoided. How strange.
Anyways, my husband refused help for the PTSD from everything, which I was willing to work exclusively to pay for and even forgo my own help, and he started cheating and then became abusive. After testifying for him and working and handing him all of my money and doing anything he wanted, it was just never good enough. I kept taking it, thinking like most women do that he'd stop and go back to himself. Then I resigned myself to it. I wanted to die, had wanted to for some time, thought maybe he'd do it after all of his threats but he never did. Resigned to do it myself. But I never found the courage. I would always back out. Finally late last year, he broke my nose and busted my cheek open and I got tired of dealing with the pain. I left to stay with friends. That's where I am now. I'm a burden and they gradually grow to hate me, like everywhere I go, but that just seems to be my lot in life in general lol.
I still have not found any joy. Any pleasure in life. Any happiness. I take antidepressants that do not help. I've tried all kinds. The only things I enjoyed were my dogs and he put them in his grandmother's name so I could not get them. He only hurt me though, I know he will take care of them, strange as it sounds. I don't love him anymore so leaving him doesn't bother me but losing my dogs tears me apart inside. I've gotten a job, paradoxically working in a mental ward, but it just feels so fake to tell them to live and have hope and all of these things I can't even tell myself. Having to fight off their attempts to kill themselves when I want to die myself. So backwards and horrible. They have it so much worse than me and here I am making them live. I suppose I do find joy in helping others but it seems so rare that one of them says I help rather than cussing me out or trying to fight me over not giving them an extra snack or something dumb like that.
I've considered many methods to end it. Mostly, I just want to get drunk before the end but guns just seem too... messy. Watching my former father in law die by one, he did not look very comfortable or peaceful. I've thought about fentanyl but being in a new place, I'm not sure where to even begin looking without someone trying to put me away (maybe where I work at LOL). The SN method seems worthy but considering but I throw up easily, not sure if I could keep it down. I've lived recklessly, almost hoping something will end it, but I must be lucky.
And I feel like a whiner just writing it all. But eh. I guess it feels good to get out there. Hopefully someone will feel less alone reading it.
Kudos if you made it all the way to the end. Sorry for the novel LOL.
