HyperEclipse
Longing for death but lacks the motivation
- Jun 16, 2023
- 40
Long story short, I just got home from a month- long stay at a mental hospital. I had made a weak attempt to cbt followed by a wild psychotic break (I will acknowledge this as an illness) and was ushered to the ER where I was then forced into hospitalization.
But the hospitals never help. All they can offer is very surface- level group therapy that doesn't actually address deeper issues and try to cram meds down your throat. I refuse to take any meds asides from a PRN because I don't feel the effects of harsh chemicals are worth the minimal benefit they provide. And they always make me feel like I'm losing something within myself without ever fixing the core problem. But that's a discussion on it's own.
They kept me at the hospital for a month because I simply wasn't getting better. I would watch others come and go but I was still suicidal. On more than one occasion I was met with the classic line of "you have to want help." Who said I wasn't trying? Who said I haven't already tried many times before? But no one ever lets you choose death. I don't feel it's always a choice to get better. I have a chronic, severe mental illness. Along with 4 other mental diagnoses. Mental illness can be terminal and frequently is. It would be nice if we stopped being blamed for out inability to be cured and the suicidality that comes along with it.
Eventually they acknowledged that there was nothing left they could do for me and let me go. I'm only 23 and have been suicidal for at least half of my short life. There are only so many times I can pick myself back up off the floor. I used to hold on, I used to believe that maybe it would get better. Maybe if I kept going, kept trying to mend my broken wings, maybe I would find that drive to exist. Maybe I would feel alive. I used to believe it when people said "don't kill yourself, there's help out there." Truth is, for a small moment when I arrived at that hospital, a tiny amount of that hope flickered inside me. I asked for the social worker to find me an intensive care program I could get enrolled in, but instead got caught in a game of insurance and affiliations. That's when I realized how cruel suicide prevention really is. I picked myself up one last time just for that thread of hope to be snapped by the world we live in and the poison within myself. I've lost my will to live. I lost it a long time ago. Something inside me died and was never able to be revived. If I give up, if I lose my mind to this corruption and kill my body, then may God catch my soul.
But the hospitals never help. All they can offer is very surface- level group therapy that doesn't actually address deeper issues and try to cram meds down your throat. I refuse to take any meds asides from a PRN because I don't feel the effects of harsh chemicals are worth the minimal benefit they provide. And they always make me feel like I'm losing something within myself without ever fixing the core problem. But that's a discussion on it's own.
They kept me at the hospital for a month because I simply wasn't getting better. I would watch others come and go but I was still suicidal. On more than one occasion I was met with the classic line of "you have to want help." Who said I wasn't trying? Who said I haven't already tried many times before? But no one ever lets you choose death. I don't feel it's always a choice to get better. I have a chronic, severe mental illness. Along with 4 other mental diagnoses. Mental illness can be terminal and frequently is. It would be nice if we stopped being blamed for out inability to be cured and the suicidality that comes along with it.
Eventually they acknowledged that there was nothing left they could do for me and let me go. I'm only 23 and have been suicidal for at least half of my short life. There are only so many times I can pick myself back up off the floor. I used to hold on, I used to believe that maybe it would get better. Maybe if I kept going, kept trying to mend my broken wings, maybe I would find that drive to exist. Maybe I would feel alive. I used to believe it when people said "don't kill yourself, there's help out there." Truth is, for a small moment when I arrived at that hospital, a tiny amount of that hope flickered inside me. I asked for the social worker to find me an intensive care program I could get enrolled in, but instead got caught in a game of insurance and affiliations. That's when I realized how cruel suicide prevention really is. I picked myself up one last time just for that thread of hope to be snapped by the world we live in and the poison within myself. I've lost my will to live. I lost it a long time ago. Something inside me died and was never able to be revived. If I give up, if I lose my mind to this corruption and kill my body, then may God catch my soul.
