I have severe C-PTSD because since I was 3, I endured several forms of abuse from my parents which gave me brain damage and left me crippled in a wheelchair with chronic pain.
I've struggled with suicide since I was a kid, spending my childhood and teen years in and out of psych wards and rotting away on every different type and combination of antidepressants and antipsychotics. I've cycled through over 20 different therapists who ask for my life story, either decide that they can't help me or end up moving offices, and then pass me onto someone else until the cycle repeats. I have considered ECT before but my memory loss is already so terrible that I don't think I could function with the even more extreme memory issues that it causes. I've fantasized about a lobotomy many times.
I ended up with a cat I didn't plan for 6 years ago. He was my safe space. He was so stoic and grounded, balancing out how volatile and emotional I am. He always knew the moment I was starting to have a flashback, and he would come to me long before I realized it myself and do everything he could to comfort me. He would purr and rub his face against mine and rest his head against my chin. He was so patient and let me cry into his fur every time, he would do anything just to make me feel better. He showed me unconditional love every day. He didn't judge me in the way humans do.
I lost him last summer completely unexpectedly, and the vets did all they could to give him a peaceful passing. I am crippled by an inability to make decisions and am constantly second-guessing and doubting myself, but much to my shock, euthanizing him was the easiest decision I ever made. I knew immediately when the time was right and I was shocked by how firmly I felt about it, how much I just knew it was the right thing to do when it was time. I was lucky enough to where I got to hold him and hear his purr one last time before he died, as if he was telling me he was okay.
I genuinely consider the day he died to be the day I died as well. My soul died and I've never been able to recover even a portion of it. I was so struck by grief that I lost all senses and all ability to function, I just completely threw everything I had ever worked for towards improving myself out the window. I lost my sense of empathy and morals. My therapist at the time said that it was likely a temporary coping mechanism to just turn off my brain from feeling for a bit, but it just never stopped. I just regressed entirely to the shitty, careless and extremely volatile person I once was. I don't respect people or go cool myself down anymore during arguments to avoid hurting the other person, I just verbally abuse them. I operate with the emotional regulation and mindset of a child. I have no patience for anyone or anything now. When I lost my cat, all of the progress I made to become kinder to others and myself was just dead and gone to me instantly.
This is what led me here again, the realization that no matter how hard I try to fix myself it's just never going to change that this bitter, pained person is who I am at my core. I don't know why I ever felt the need to perform otherwise and try to change. I'm so god damn angry that no matter how good I do, it's never enough stop life from dealing me these shitty cards. It feels like I'm always being selected by fate for these things to happen to. Suicide genuinely feels like the only option for me to stop hurting.
The trauma surrounding the loss of him and the grief caused me to develop some kind of permanent dissociation, as if my brain split into two different people. I became dormant in my own brain and it's like watching someone else pilot my body. Most of the time, it feels like death in the sense that "I'm" not formally aware or conscious. But when I do regain consciousness sometimes and resume piloting the body as needed, I'm just a mean nasty bastard who doesn't give a fuck about other people or their feelings anymore. I lost my belief in any kind of religion, in humanity, in my own spirit. I can't even take comfort in the belief that I can join my cat in any sort of afterlife because I just don't believe in that anymore.
The one comfort I have is the fact that when I die, my pain will die with me. All of these memories and all of this trauma will die with me and will be forgotten, and this aching useless barely functioning body will finally hurt no longer. I keep telling myself that to be completely free of this pain and these memories, to finally rest, will be the most cathartic relief imaginable. But part of me still wants to get better for my poor partner, the one person I have left, but therapy just doesn't work and I don't know what the fuck to do.
I've never wrote this all out for anyone before and I'm extremely scared to be this honest and vulnerable. Thank you if you read this.
I've struggled with suicide since I was a kid, spending my childhood and teen years in and out of psych wards and rotting away on every different type and combination of antidepressants and antipsychotics. I've cycled through over 20 different therapists who ask for my life story, either decide that they can't help me or end up moving offices, and then pass me onto someone else until the cycle repeats. I have considered ECT before but my memory loss is already so terrible that I don't think I could function with the even more extreme memory issues that it causes. I've fantasized about a lobotomy many times.
I ended up with a cat I didn't plan for 6 years ago. He was my safe space. He was so stoic and grounded, balancing out how volatile and emotional I am. He always knew the moment I was starting to have a flashback, and he would come to me long before I realized it myself and do everything he could to comfort me. He would purr and rub his face against mine and rest his head against my chin. He was so patient and let me cry into his fur every time, he would do anything just to make me feel better. He showed me unconditional love every day. He didn't judge me in the way humans do.
I lost him last summer completely unexpectedly, and the vets did all they could to give him a peaceful passing. I am crippled by an inability to make decisions and am constantly second-guessing and doubting myself, but much to my shock, euthanizing him was the easiest decision I ever made. I knew immediately when the time was right and I was shocked by how firmly I felt about it, how much I just knew it was the right thing to do when it was time. I was lucky enough to where I got to hold him and hear his purr one last time before he died, as if he was telling me he was okay.
I genuinely consider the day he died to be the day I died as well. My soul died and I've never been able to recover even a portion of it. I was so struck by grief that I lost all senses and all ability to function, I just completely threw everything I had ever worked for towards improving myself out the window. I lost my sense of empathy and morals. My therapist at the time said that it was likely a temporary coping mechanism to just turn off my brain from feeling for a bit, but it just never stopped. I just regressed entirely to the shitty, careless and extremely volatile person I once was. I don't respect people or go cool myself down anymore during arguments to avoid hurting the other person, I just verbally abuse them. I operate with the emotional regulation and mindset of a child. I have no patience for anyone or anything now. When I lost my cat, all of the progress I made to become kinder to others and myself was just dead and gone to me instantly.
This is what led me here again, the realization that no matter how hard I try to fix myself it's just never going to change that this bitter, pained person is who I am at my core. I don't know why I ever felt the need to perform otherwise and try to change. I'm so god damn angry that no matter how good I do, it's never enough stop life from dealing me these shitty cards. It feels like I'm always being selected by fate for these things to happen to. Suicide genuinely feels like the only option for me to stop hurting.
The trauma surrounding the loss of him and the grief caused me to develop some kind of permanent dissociation, as if my brain split into two different people. I became dormant in my own brain and it's like watching someone else pilot my body. Most of the time, it feels like death in the sense that "I'm" not formally aware or conscious. But when I do regain consciousness sometimes and resume piloting the body as needed, I'm just a mean nasty bastard who doesn't give a fuck about other people or their feelings anymore. I lost my belief in any kind of religion, in humanity, in my own spirit. I can't even take comfort in the belief that I can join my cat in any sort of afterlife because I just don't believe in that anymore.
The one comfort I have is the fact that when I die, my pain will die with me. All of these memories and all of this trauma will die with me and will be forgotten, and this aching useless barely functioning body will finally hurt no longer. I keep telling myself that to be completely free of this pain and these memories, to finally rest, will be the most cathartic relief imaginable. But part of me still wants to get better for my poor partner, the one person I have left, but therapy just doesn't work and I don't know what the fuck to do.
I've never wrote this all out for anyone before and I'm extremely scared to be this honest and vulnerable. Thank you if you read this.
