KuriGohan&Kamehameha
想死不能 - 想活不能
- Nov 23, 2020
- 1,654
These past few days have hammered the final nails into my coffin. My partner's complete disregard for my lived experiences, obscufafed by his normie, npc tier vision of what is " the truth" has completely dissolved any bit of resolve I had left.
My bf doesn't like to hear that I'm suicidal. He wants me to hide it, Bury it, and keep it under lock and key, because I talk about it too much. I try to avoid him for several hours and lock myself up alone in the other room to cry, so he can have his leisure and decompression time. I try not to have super serious talks with my partner during the day, unless it's an administrative thing that needs sorted like a phone call he was going to make on my behalf or a time sensitive concern.
Because I could not hide my pain and my tears, even when he demanded I stop, he is convinced I am a cruel, evil, and selfish person with no regard for the welfare of others. Whenever I am at the peak of despair I physically can't hide it and stop talking about it. Unfortunately this is very frequent, and the thing about wider society is that they loathe suicidal people whose issues are not temporary.
I was accused of having borderline personality disorder and told smugly that I refuse all help by not engaging with and believing in psychiatry, because I am mentally ill and unhinged. Why? I share my pain too much with no regard as to how stressful it is for someone to listen to, and I need to stop, "just be happy instead of banging on about it."
I was told that if I spoke to any therapist right this moment, they'd confirm that I have BPD, because I can't keep denying "the truth" and disavowing psychiatry when the rest of the sane, rational world has faith in it.
This level of gaslighting makes me fucking furious. I have been nudged into the psychiatric system since I was a young child. In total, I have attended over a decade of therapy. I have taken pretty much every approved psychiatric drug on the market except antipsychotics and MAOIs.
I asked him what mental illness makes someone want to die as a result of their physical pain? He had no answers for me, except that once again, I am not properly "engaging with health care." Humans love to parrot these canned lines over and over again, then cannot explain to you what the mystical treatment is that you're supposed to be engaging with. They can't accept you suffer from things outside the scope of modern technology.
Another accusation was that I use my ptsd as an excuse to avoid proper treatment. You know, I wouldn't avoid doctors if they genuinely had my best interest in mind, but they don't. They care about their paycheck and following NICE guidelines. There is no individualised treatment, you are nothing but another number on a conveyor belt. Trauma is treated as a joke by those who are supposed to care and have "expert insight".
Where is this help? It doesn't fucking exist. Once you've ran through the gammut of CBT, mindfulness meditation, every SSRI, SNRI, oddballs like wellbutrin, mirtazapine, buspar, tricyclics, etc, you are treated as if it's your fault for psychiatry having no solutions for you.
Here's the thing. I do not have a fucking chemical imbalance of a specific neurotransmitter. Those medications hurt me worse. I do not have some warped view of how people perceive me, nor do I possess an irrational anxiety about the world around me. Everything I suffer with stems from lived trauma, abuse, and physical diseases, evidence that cannot be refuted.
People would rather someone like I not exist, as my experiences shatter what the perceive to be the realm of plausibility. My partner's new favorite technique is asserting that I don't really know what's wrong with me, how I latch into CFS rather than seeking out more harmful medical tests that would have minimal benefit to someone with my specific symptoms.
Everyone expects you to keep pushing against obstacles higher than your pay grade. You could take a crack at every possible solution to your problem, and it still wouldn't be enough for these bloomers. They'd insist you haven't tried absolutely everything. There's never a point where you are allowed to say fuck it, this is hurting me rather than helping.
I avoid psychiatrists and therapists because it is tried and true that they will not know how to help someone in my specific circumstances. First off, how can they heal a disease that's ravaging my entire body? How can you tell someone to cope when what they need is pain medication rather than mindfulness mantras? How can they advise in good faith CBT for a severely disabled young person who needs community support, not invalidating talk therapy?
Anywhere I go though, I will receive this treatment. People have blind faith in institutions, especially the mental health industry and all the mysticism surrounding it- in the UK it is laughably easy to receive mental health practicioner accreditation, and you can purport any shaman like brand of spiritualist nonsense you fancy! Yet everyone still believes therapy is a hard science backed heavily by the scientific method and empirical studies.
My partner loves to say that I haven't tried the right kinds of therapies, and that I'm the only obstacle towards overcoming my ptsd. When I asked what flavour of therapy I hadn't tried yet, he responded with dialogue akin to an robot script, "Trauma counselling has high rates of success, multiple studies and experts in their field agree that trauma therapy is helpful in the vast majority of cases. You're just anti-science."
How the hell am I anti science if I tell the honest truth that bombarding myself with exposure to triggering content and trying to " process" it does nothing but inflict further harm on me? In regards to my original trauma, I don't even have any coherent memories that can be recalled about the original event, as I was far too young. I only remember the aftermath. So talking to someone isn't going to help me. I need a real, physical treatment that will alter the synapses in my brain, not brutal exposure that breaks me so much that I eventually snap and become desensitised to how much agony I'm in.
Not to mention, what he is suggesting makes my physical diseases worse. Being triggered sends my nervous system into a frenzy. Adrenaline coursing through your veins is a horrific sensation when your body's default state is being trapped in an infinite cycle of not producing enough energy for you to carry out basic tasks. The stress wipes you out, it takes and takes from you endlessly.
When I was going to therapy I didn't have the energy to take care of myself because the interaction with the therapist and getting to the appointments in the first place was so draining and leeched the meager stores of strength I possessed. Yet I'm expected to hurt myself to soothe the consciousness of people who can't admit we live in a barbaric, senseless world, where some people simply can't be cured by pseudo spiritual nonsense like mindfulness meditation?
It feels like everyone around me is trying to squeeze blood from a turnip. Yes, I simply don't want to get better, huh? If I didn't want my health to improve, I wouldn't have taken over 20 different medications, I wouldn't have spent egregious amounts of money on supplements and healthier foods, I wouldn't have turned myself into a pincushion getting a barrage of blood tests and IVs, no effort would have been made whatsoever if I didn't have a single fuck left to give.
Sure, I love sleeping 10-12 hours a day and feeling as if I haven't rested a single minute. I love waking up in the middle of the night several times to piss as a result of my overactive bladder. I love having to nap every day because my body is too weak to stay awake a moment longer. I love being in constant pain. I love being unable to digest food and consistently having horrible pain as a result. I love being unable to control my body temperature and my hands and feet turning ghastly purple as a consequence of this. I love getting shakes and twitches. I love losing my cognitive abilities. Of course, someone would willingly choose such an outcome!
My boyfriend and those around me are manipulating the situation to make me seem like a lazy, paranoia driven malingerer who has an irrational fear of doctors. One day I am treated with respect and consideration, the next day I'm an insolent whiner, because the stiff upper lip mentality is alive and well in this dumpster fire of a culture.
My boyfriend has threatened to tell his family about my suicidality and the fact that I've begged him to settle down with me, to paint me as crazy and irrational. His favorite descriptor for me seems to be "mentally ill". I feel like a broken record here, but this continues with each passing day, it never eases up.
I am tired of the gaslighting. I am tired of the intrinsic optimism bias programming that seems to be encoded in the words and actions of everyone outside of this site. This drives me closer and closer towards suicide. I am already so isolated and alone, crippled by illness and societal expectations. The cyclic nature of my ailments essentially guarentees that no one will understand, and I am always doubted in the back of other's minds when I have a mild enough day to be able to go outside for a couple of hours.
Psychiatrists cannot try to trick me into thinking this is a pleasurable state of being. No one would be content if they had to walk in my shoes. I have had enough of the mass delusion when it comes to my situation. A few days ago, I decided impulsively to take meto, painkillers, and propranolol, to see if I could be brave enough to sedate myself and overcome SI.
I doubled the dosage I took last time I tried propranolol, still barely a fraction of what the PPH suggests, yet I still found myself immediately dizzy and faint. I told my best friend I would be taking SN soon, and he begged me not to. He respects my choice but is insistent that I do not go through with it because my ctb would likely lewd to his own suffering and demise.
He told me that it was selfish, but he needs me to hold on. Kept coaxing me into talking and staying awake. He told me it was horrible that I had to suffer with sickness, and that it's truly awful we can't do anything about it, but to please hold on and not ctb. All of these comforts were temporary.
I passed out shortly afterwards and awoke the next morning to the same problems that greet me everyday. I cannot hold out much longer. I need to attempt again soon. The more I try and prepare, the closer I feel I get to being in the right head space to leave this rotten world once and for all. Please, let it all be over.
I cannot take this gaslighting and invalidation from the entire world any longer. I am begging to be free and they would all keep me shackled to this failing body. If you can never access the "simple pleasures" that make life worth living, then it is not life. It is biding time until an inevitable non-existence.
My bf doesn't like to hear that I'm suicidal. He wants me to hide it, Bury it, and keep it under lock and key, because I talk about it too much. I try to avoid him for several hours and lock myself up alone in the other room to cry, so he can have his leisure and decompression time. I try not to have super serious talks with my partner during the day, unless it's an administrative thing that needs sorted like a phone call he was going to make on my behalf or a time sensitive concern.
Because I could not hide my pain and my tears, even when he demanded I stop, he is convinced I am a cruel, evil, and selfish person with no regard for the welfare of others. Whenever I am at the peak of despair I physically can't hide it and stop talking about it. Unfortunately this is very frequent, and the thing about wider society is that they loathe suicidal people whose issues are not temporary.
I was accused of having borderline personality disorder and told smugly that I refuse all help by not engaging with and believing in psychiatry, because I am mentally ill and unhinged. Why? I share my pain too much with no regard as to how stressful it is for someone to listen to, and I need to stop, "just be happy instead of banging on about it."
I was told that if I spoke to any therapist right this moment, they'd confirm that I have BPD, because I can't keep denying "the truth" and disavowing psychiatry when the rest of the sane, rational world has faith in it.
This level of gaslighting makes me fucking furious. I have been nudged into the psychiatric system since I was a young child. In total, I have attended over a decade of therapy. I have taken pretty much every approved psychiatric drug on the market except antipsychotics and MAOIs.
I asked him what mental illness makes someone want to die as a result of their physical pain? He had no answers for me, except that once again, I am not properly "engaging with health care." Humans love to parrot these canned lines over and over again, then cannot explain to you what the mystical treatment is that you're supposed to be engaging with. They can't accept you suffer from things outside the scope of modern technology.
Another accusation was that I use my ptsd as an excuse to avoid proper treatment. You know, I wouldn't avoid doctors if they genuinely had my best interest in mind, but they don't. They care about their paycheck and following NICE guidelines. There is no individualised treatment, you are nothing but another number on a conveyor belt. Trauma is treated as a joke by those who are supposed to care and have "expert insight".
Where is this help? It doesn't fucking exist. Once you've ran through the gammut of CBT, mindfulness meditation, every SSRI, SNRI, oddballs like wellbutrin, mirtazapine, buspar, tricyclics, etc, you are treated as if it's your fault for psychiatry having no solutions for you.
Here's the thing. I do not have a fucking chemical imbalance of a specific neurotransmitter. Those medications hurt me worse. I do not have some warped view of how people perceive me, nor do I possess an irrational anxiety about the world around me. Everything I suffer with stems from lived trauma, abuse, and physical diseases, evidence that cannot be refuted.
People would rather someone like I not exist, as my experiences shatter what the perceive to be the realm of plausibility. My partner's new favorite technique is asserting that I don't really know what's wrong with me, how I latch into CFS rather than seeking out more harmful medical tests that would have minimal benefit to someone with my specific symptoms.
Everyone expects you to keep pushing against obstacles higher than your pay grade. You could take a crack at every possible solution to your problem, and it still wouldn't be enough for these bloomers. They'd insist you haven't tried absolutely everything. There's never a point where you are allowed to say fuck it, this is hurting me rather than helping.
I avoid psychiatrists and therapists because it is tried and true that they will not know how to help someone in my specific circumstances. First off, how can they heal a disease that's ravaging my entire body? How can you tell someone to cope when what they need is pain medication rather than mindfulness mantras? How can they advise in good faith CBT for a severely disabled young person who needs community support, not invalidating talk therapy?
Anywhere I go though, I will receive this treatment. People have blind faith in institutions, especially the mental health industry and all the mysticism surrounding it- in the UK it is laughably easy to receive mental health practicioner accreditation, and you can purport any shaman like brand of spiritualist nonsense you fancy! Yet everyone still believes therapy is a hard science backed heavily by the scientific method and empirical studies.
My partner loves to say that I haven't tried the right kinds of therapies, and that I'm the only obstacle towards overcoming my ptsd. When I asked what flavour of therapy I hadn't tried yet, he responded with dialogue akin to an robot script, "Trauma counselling has high rates of success, multiple studies and experts in their field agree that trauma therapy is helpful in the vast majority of cases. You're just anti-science."
How the hell am I anti science if I tell the honest truth that bombarding myself with exposure to triggering content and trying to " process" it does nothing but inflict further harm on me? In regards to my original trauma, I don't even have any coherent memories that can be recalled about the original event, as I was far too young. I only remember the aftermath. So talking to someone isn't going to help me. I need a real, physical treatment that will alter the synapses in my brain, not brutal exposure that breaks me so much that I eventually snap and become desensitised to how much agony I'm in.
Not to mention, what he is suggesting makes my physical diseases worse. Being triggered sends my nervous system into a frenzy. Adrenaline coursing through your veins is a horrific sensation when your body's default state is being trapped in an infinite cycle of not producing enough energy for you to carry out basic tasks. The stress wipes you out, it takes and takes from you endlessly.
When I was going to therapy I didn't have the energy to take care of myself because the interaction with the therapist and getting to the appointments in the first place was so draining and leeched the meager stores of strength I possessed. Yet I'm expected to hurt myself to soothe the consciousness of people who can't admit we live in a barbaric, senseless world, where some people simply can't be cured by pseudo spiritual nonsense like mindfulness meditation?
It feels like everyone around me is trying to squeeze blood from a turnip. Yes, I simply don't want to get better, huh? If I didn't want my health to improve, I wouldn't have taken over 20 different medications, I wouldn't have spent egregious amounts of money on supplements and healthier foods, I wouldn't have turned myself into a pincushion getting a barrage of blood tests and IVs, no effort would have been made whatsoever if I didn't have a single fuck left to give.
Sure, I love sleeping 10-12 hours a day and feeling as if I haven't rested a single minute. I love waking up in the middle of the night several times to piss as a result of my overactive bladder. I love having to nap every day because my body is too weak to stay awake a moment longer. I love being in constant pain. I love being unable to digest food and consistently having horrible pain as a result. I love being unable to control my body temperature and my hands and feet turning ghastly purple as a consequence of this. I love getting shakes and twitches. I love losing my cognitive abilities. Of course, someone would willingly choose such an outcome!
My boyfriend and those around me are manipulating the situation to make me seem like a lazy, paranoia driven malingerer who has an irrational fear of doctors. One day I am treated with respect and consideration, the next day I'm an insolent whiner, because the stiff upper lip mentality is alive and well in this dumpster fire of a culture.
My boyfriend has threatened to tell his family about my suicidality and the fact that I've begged him to settle down with me, to paint me as crazy and irrational. His favorite descriptor for me seems to be "mentally ill". I feel like a broken record here, but this continues with each passing day, it never eases up.
I am tired of the gaslighting. I am tired of the intrinsic optimism bias programming that seems to be encoded in the words and actions of everyone outside of this site. This drives me closer and closer towards suicide. I am already so isolated and alone, crippled by illness and societal expectations. The cyclic nature of my ailments essentially guarentees that no one will understand, and I am always doubted in the back of other's minds when I have a mild enough day to be able to go outside for a couple of hours.
Psychiatrists cannot try to trick me into thinking this is a pleasurable state of being. No one would be content if they had to walk in my shoes. I have had enough of the mass delusion when it comes to my situation. A few days ago, I decided impulsively to take meto, painkillers, and propranolol, to see if I could be brave enough to sedate myself and overcome SI.
I doubled the dosage I took last time I tried propranolol, still barely a fraction of what the PPH suggests, yet I still found myself immediately dizzy and faint. I told my best friend I would be taking SN soon, and he begged me not to. He respects my choice but is insistent that I do not go through with it because my ctb would likely lewd to his own suffering and demise.
He told me that it was selfish, but he needs me to hold on. Kept coaxing me into talking and staying awake. He told me it was horrible that I had to suffer with sickness, and that it's truly awful we can't do anything about it, but to please hold on and not ctb. All of these comforts were temporary.
I passed out shortly afterwards and awoke the next morning to the same problems that greet me everyday. I cannot hold out much longer. I need to attempt again soon. The more I try and prepare, the closer I feel I get to being in the right head space to leave this rotten world once and for all. Please, let it all be over.
I cannot take this gaslighting and invalidation from the entire world any longer. I am begging to be free and they would all keep me shackled to this failing body. If you can never access the "simple pleasures" that make life worth living, then it is not life. It is biding time until an inevitable non-existence.
