BodyOfDaffodil
Member
- Jun 14, 2023
- 31
Around this time in the last two years, I was admitted to the pysch ward. Here in Canada, these take these things very seriously and don't really give a choice in being admitted or not. I've spent the last four years actively in and out of a mental hospital; so much so that last time I was admitted to one, the nurses there just sighed and asked me if it was the same thing again. I'm at a point in my life where I feel completely alone, and with no one to turn to in my life. I've become completely reclusive, not wishing to burden anyone with my troubles or seek out a friend to speak with regarding my problems. I've had the same therapist for the last 6 years, and even then I can see he's grown tired of me as well.
I have some social media, and on that social media I can see the progress of my family without me. They've gotten a new home, in a gated community with security guards and daily patrols. They live a comfortable life, and I even see my brothers improving; moving forward past their traumas and being able to become some active members of functioning society. All while I have to watch from the otherside, where my grass is grey and dying; where there isn't any hope for me to ever improve. I've often wondered if it was worth all the work to get better, to try and improve my life and someday achieve what they're expecting of me. But I can't no matter how hard I try.
Being inside the mental hospital so many times has taught me that asking for help; trying to find it and keep it; isn't at all worth it. They always say the same thing, give me papers and worksheets and send me off on my way when they see that I'm improving just a little. Then it's back to square one for me. I've been heavily medicated since the time I was thirteen, and have stopped actively taking my medication in the last two years; only starting them up again for a few months before quitting altogether. It isn't something I'm interested anymore, and it always seems like my doctor is more concerned about how my declining mental health will look on her reports.
This time of year has always been lonely for me, and is nearing about the time I've became homeless in the last year or so.
I think I'm actually going to end it all and be done with it because I've tried so hard for so long to get better; and nothing has worked. Self destruction and loathing doesn't even work anymore to make me feel the slightest bit better. I feel utterly hopeless, and I wish at times I was a kid again so I could go back to the safety of the pysch ward and be in an environment where nurses pretend to care about me. I can't even remember the last time I was hugged.
I have some social media, and on that social media I can see the progress of my family without me. They've gotten a new home, in a gated community with security guards and daily patrols. They live a comfortable life, and I even see my brothers improving; moving forward past their traumas and being able to become some active members of functioning society. All while I have to watch from the otherside, where my grass is grey and dying; where there isn't any hope for me to ever improve. I've often wondered if it was worth all the work to get better, to try and improve my life and someday achieve what they're expecting of me. But I can't no matter how hard I try.
Being inside the mental hospital so many times has taught me that asking for help; trying to find it and keep it; isn't at all worth it. They always say the same thing, give me papers and worksheets and send me off on my way when they see that I'm improving just a little. Then it's back to square one for me. I've been heavily medicated since the time I was thirteen, and have stopped actively taking my medication in the last two years; only starting them up again for a few months before quitting altogether. It isn't something I'm interested anymore, and it always seems like my doctor is more concerned about how my declining mental health will look on her reports.
This time of year has always been lonely for me, and is nearing about the time I've became homeless in the last year or so.
I think I'm actually going to end it all and be done with it because I've tried so hard for so long to get better; and nothing has worked. Self destruction and loathing doesn't even work anymore to make me feel the slightest bit better. I feel utterly hopeless, and I wish at times I was a kid again so I could go back to the safety of the pysch ward and be in an environment where nurses pretend to care about me. I can't even remember the last time I was hugged.
