I don't always talk about it because there is no good way to begin a conversation involving death. I tried to subtly mention them with my drawings or some stories. I tried to alert people without being too upfront that yes, I do have suicidal tendencies and that maybe one day, I wouldn't be here anymore because I decided to jump the shark. How to explain these? I tried to tell my family but aside from my twin, the only response I have is "Don't do that, think of how badly you'd hurt us if you do." or "Didn't we give you enough? why do you have to repay us this terrible way." or "What did we do?" I get it, it's all about you. I can't talk about it because I know most people would simply run away. I didn't even talk that much about it to my therapist when I was still seeing one because I am not used to talking about it.
I'll try here though, at least there should be a place where I can express myself fully. So here we go. Those tendencies started back when I was 12 years old. I went and OD'd on medication and it really was because my nanny went to clear my parents' room that she found me on the floor and I was saved when they emptied my stomach. I was 12 and wanted to die already. I don't know why but I know I was in pain. Later on, as time went by and memories of a sexual assault by a male!A nanny who worked at home came back. I got lucky, he didn't penetrate me so I was still a virgin. But I do remember the assault, the forced kisses, the threats if I ever talked about it, his hands roaming all over my body. Me saying no and feeling ashamed and how bruised my lips were because he kissed them hard. It's a disgusting memory, it's a disgusting moment and what makes it even more disgusting is that because I kept my mouth shut, he went on an raped my twin. He wasn't even fired because of that because nobody knew at that time. He was fired over some "minor" incident involving the safety of my little sister who was still a baby when it happened. Some hygiene issue. I kept my mouth shut, I was 7 so it wasn't my fault but the guilt is still there. the guilt of not having said anything and having my twin suffer for my silence. I guess that's why I tried to kill myself when I was 12 otherwise I don't recall what happened.
Urges have always been there since then. I was pushed near suicide by very abusive people who were supposed to be my friends. I was tempted to do it on my own, especially when I was experiencing down/severely depressed moments. They always happened after a manic phase. I didn't even realize it was a manic phase, bare with me since I have just started knowing I was suffering from mental illness this year. my therapist believes it's bipolarity which could work with all the symptoms I show, but I need a psychiatrist to confirm it's actually this so I could have medication. But if it's the case, it could explain why the suicidal tendencies. It could explain why a simple thought can fester and turn into an excruciating truth. It could explain why I hate myself so much. I still can't love myself. I think I would never be able to. When I look at myself in the mirror, all I see is a failure. All I see is something gross. and you know, I really believe that if I'm gone it's not going to change anything. People would move on. I don't matter. I just don't. And now that I'm thinking about it, it's a feeling I always had, even when I was extremely slim or curvy at the right places. I always thought I was gross. useless, a waste of air and space and skin. People don't see it and can't see it. They can't know it because I can't talk about it. Every day I wake up and wish I didn't. Every time I go to bed, I just wish I would sleep forever. Everytime.
It hurts you know, to be alive. It hurts because you know you can't-do shit. I know I can't-do shit. I'm just designed to be in pain. Every little joy I have to feel like I won the lottery because the rest of the time I am just in pain. I believe I am alive only to punish my soul for something I did in the past or an ancient life. I am here to expiate my life. I am here to pay a price. Otherwise, I don't know why I am here and why I am in such a pain. I feel guilty to be alive. I feel like happiness is just a concept I'll never fulfill. It's just a dream. I feel like whatever I do and whatever I say, I'm just hurting people around me. nobody can even be happy to see me. nobody can possibly be happy to see me. I'm just dragging them down, giving them troubles. people would be far better without me.
How to talk about my suicidal tendencies? I could tell you that what prevents me from hurting myself in the most gruesome ways are phobias. I can't stand seeing my blood, so I can't use a knife. I want to. I wish I could find some strength to stab myself but it's going to be messy and it's going to hurt and if I miss myself, I'll ruin my poor aesthetics already. I can't smother myself, I can't drown, I certainly won't throw myself off of the window because I can't stand heights. I can't break my neck (one of the things I hate to see on movies, can't even bring a hand around my neck). The only solution is of course to OD or if I really really feel like it, just be hit by a car, or starve myself. Last time I tried to drink bleach but I am glad I didn't, it'll be a mess and I might have survived that shit.
So I struggle every day with eating enough not to starve (I still just eat once a day), make sure I'm not playing with knives because I always was this close to hurt myself with them, to the point of having it nearly pierce the skin and I stay away from meds. unless I have to take them (because of course, when I'm sick, I don't take my treatment hoping it could get worse so I could die) That's my daily fights.
This is really funny... I can't even succeed in killing myself properly. See, that's the kind of thought I have to deal with on a daily basis. That's why I can't talk about it to anyone because it's just too much of a burden to carry. I'm not that great, I'm just terrible and it's only a matter of time before people notice. I guess, fucking life.
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