lifeisadream
One of life’s failures
- Oct 3, 2022
- 103
Firstly, thank you for taking the time to read my post. I'm rubbish at opening up having endured years of no one listening to me when I've tried talking about my suicidal thoughts. My voice carelessly discarded & stamped on.
For years my ex insisted I wasn't depressed. He kept telling me it was simply a bad day. How many thousands of bad days did he think a person could have? Eventually I landed in headcase hotel where the psychiatrist promptly told me the magical cure was to have kids. Telling a severely depressed/bipolar person who can't take care of themselves to have kids was grossly negligent. Then came the happy pills which were handed out like sweets. If I took their desired 700mg of quetiapine I wouldn't function. But do they care?
Waking each day is painful. I hate the endless cycle of hurt, relentless blackness & bleakness. I want to get off this merry go land that is called life, a life that I didn't ask for. I wish there was a nighty night death fairy that would visit during sleep, wave their magic wand & drain life from my body. If only it was that simple.
I've realised no one in my life understands the mental torture & I feel trapped inside my mind with no one to help unravel my thoughts. When I've plucked up the courage to speak out about how I'm feeling I'm told suicide is selfish or cowardly; those people are selfish for wanting to inflict yet more pain on my fragile mind.
As weird as this sounds, I get more comfort from my cats who snuggle up to me when I lay on the sofa crying. They instinctively know & sense my suffering. If only I knew what their meows meant & I hope it's not just them saying feed me.
I've now realised that for whatever time I choose to have left, I'd like to be on here with people who won't judge, berate or insist that I'm merely having a bad day. People who do take time to listen.
Hopefully one day I'll be returned to the universe as star dust.
Anyway, thank you for reading my ramblings.
For years my ex insisted I wasn't depressed. He kept telling me it was simply a bad day. How many thousands of bad days did he think a person could have? Eventually I landed in headcase hotel where the psychiatrist promptly told me the magical cure was to have kids. Telling a severely depressed/bipolar person who can't take care of themselves to have kids was grossly negligent. Then came the happy pills which were handed out like sweets. If I took their desired 700mg of quetiapine I wouldn't function. But do they care?
Waking each day is painful. I hate the endless cycle of hurt, relentless blackness & bleakness. I want to get off this merry go land that is called life, a life that I didn't ask for. I wish there was a nighty night death fairy that would visit during sleep, wave their magic wand & drain life from my body. If only it was that simple.
I've realised no one in my life understands the mental torture & I feel trapped inside my mind with no one to help unravel my thoughts. When I've plucked up the courage to speak out about how I'm feeling I'm told suicide is selfish or cowardly; those people are selfish for wanting to inflict yet more pain on my fragile mind.
As weird as this sounds, I get more comfort from my cats who snuggle up to me when I lay on the sofa crying. They instinctively know & sense my suffering. If only I knew what their meows meant & I hope it's not just them saying feed me.
I've now realised that for whatever time I choose to have left, I'd like to be on here with people who won't judge, berate or insist that I'm merely having a bad day. People who do take time to listen.
Hopefully one day I'll be returned to the universe as star dust.
Anyway, thank you for reading my ramblings.