In truth, even though it annoys me from a rational perspective, I still feel this enormous responsibility not to hurt my parents with my suicide. (My Dad anyway- my real Mum is already dead.)
Rationally though, it really irritates me. This pressure we have put on us not to hurt our loved ones- via suiciding. Especially when it comes to our parents. It's like this feeling of being indebted and, emotionally responsible for them.
I've mentioned it before but, I tend to view being born as being involuntarily entered into a co dependent relationship. I think we mostly realise co dependent relationships are bad. They don't give us freedom. They are characterised by mannipulation.
Even if our parents and even if society isn't openly mannipulative and emotionally blackmail us- as in- you'll destroy my life if you CTB, we often do still feel that burden. Because we still realise the inevitability of that happening.
That seems like such a cruel obligation to put on someone but it feels almost innate to life. Unless of course, the person's parents are so awful that they don't care or have any kind of relationship with them to begin with. Which will possibly make them more likely to have ideation to begin with but, more free to do it I guess.
It really struck me though, on the (enforced) call to a helpline, following a welfair check. The woman actually tried to guilt trip me- think what it would do to your family. I honestly wanted to flip my lid at her but, I held my tongue. For context though, I've already held on for 35 years so as not to upset my family.
It's worse than that though. My parents knew my Mum had cancer when they went ahead with the pregnancy. Ok, they may have hoped/ believed that she would recover. But then surely- death was a possibility at that point. Why is it ok for parents to inflict their deaths on us but, we're given hell for doing the same? It just seems so unfair.
I'm so tired of feeling resentful too. Which further intensifies my resentment towards actually being alive. I could have been spared all this. My Dad could have been spared the slow realisation of how bad things are for me if I wasn't here to begin with.
He refuses to regret the decision because I supposedly brought joy to their lives. Not sure how accurate that is. It's pretty rose tinted I think. But worse and far more selfishly speaking- that isn't enough to make me happy. I'm happy for them- if that was the case. I just wish all of it hadn't involved me.
It almost feels like talking to the soul of a chicken- I know you lived a shit life and were butchered horribly but- you tasted delicious! Isn't that enough to have given your life meaning? Aren't you grateful that you made my life better? Well, no- probably not. Why would we necessarily enjoy being fodder to other people's needs?
Rationally though, it really irritates me. This pressure we have put on us not to hurt our loved ones- via suiciding. Especially when it comes to our parents. It's like this feeling of being indebted and, emotionally responsible for them.
I've mentioned it before but, I tend to view being born as being involuntarily entered into a co dependent relationship. I think we mostly realise co dependent relationships are bad. They don't give us freedom. They are characterised by mannipulation.
Even if our parents and even if society isn't openly mannipulative and emotionally blackmail us- as in- you'll destroy my life if you CTB, we often do still feel that burden. Because we still realise the inevitability of that happening.
That seems like such a cruel obligation to put on someone but it feels almost innate to life. Unless of course, the person's parents are so awful that they don't care or have any kind of relationship with them to begin with. Which will possibly make them more likely to have ideation to begin with but, more free to do it I guess.
It really struck me though, on the (enforced) call to a helpline, following a welfair check. The woman actually tried to guilt trip me- think what it would do to your family. I honestly wanted to flip my lid at her but, I held my tongue. For context though, I've already held on for 35 years so as not to upset my family.
It's worse than that though. My parents knew my Mum had cancer when they went ahead with the pregnancy. Ok, they may have hoped/ believed that she would recover. But then surely- death was a possibility at that point. Why is it ok for parents to inflict their deaths on us but, we're given hell for doing the same? It just seems so unfair.
I'm so tired of feeling resentful too. Which further intensifies my resentment towards actually being alive. I could have been spared all this. My Dad could have been spared the slow realisation of how bad things are for me if I wasn't here to begin with.
He refuses to regret the decision because I supposedly brought joy to their lives. Not sure how accurate that is. It's pretty rose tinted I think. But worse and far more selfishly speaking- that isn't enough to make me happy. I'm happy for them- if that was the case. I just wish all of it hadn't involved me.
It almost feels like talking to the soul of a chicken- I know you lived a shit life and were butchered horribly but- you tasted delicious! Isn't that enough to have given your life meaning? Aren't you grateful that you made my life better? Well, no- probably not. Why would we necessarily enjoy being fodder to other people's needs?
