X
xiaoxiongmao
Member
- Jun 29, 2025
- 46
When I was drowning in anguish and darkness, consumed by unbearable pain, I didn't crave my ex's love or efforts—just their presence. Someone to stabilize me, to ease the weight for even a moment. I reached out, suggesting boundaries to make it easier for both of us, but they cut me off completely. No conversation, no attempt to find middle ground. Just a cold, "I'm sure you will be happy," and silence.
They called my desperate cries for help "harassment" and "too much." They said they "couldn't carry it anymore" and had to "protect their mental health." Instead of responding to me, they triggered a welfare check without warning—as if they had the right to involve strangers while refusing to offer even the smallest bit of human comfort. It feels so unjust that those who collapse are vilified, while those who run away are seen as "protecting themselves."
Eventually, I reached my breaking point of no return. I couldn't endure the pain, the medication, or live a decent life anymore. When I decided I wanted to exit with dignity, I was suddenly labeled "crazy" and "mentally ill."
Everyone sided with my ex, assuming I could "just find other help." But there is NO alternative. My suffering—the raw, suffocating kind that can't be medicated or reasoned away—was dismissed as "dangerous" or "toxic." Even after I'd made peace with my decision to leave, all I got was the empty platitude: "I hope you don't kill yourself." The world accepts this as "support," when what I truly needed was for someone—anyone—to hold my hand during my last stretch of the journey.
I truly believe this society is built for the self-interested, for those who can detach and protect themselves first. It is not built for those who love or feel too deeply—for us, there is no space, no safety net, no grace.
They called my desperate cries for help "harassment" and "too much." They said they "couldn't carry it anymore" and had to "protect their mental health." Instead of responding to me, they triggered a welfare check without warning—as if they had the right to involve strangers while refusing to offer even the smallest bit of human comfort. It feels so unjust that those who collapse are vilified, while those who run away are seen as "protecting themselves."
Eventually, I reached my breaking point of no return. I couldn't endure the pain, the medication, or live a decent life anymore. When I decided I wanted to exit with dignity, I was suddenly labeled "crazy" and "mentally ill."
Everyone sided with my ex, assuming I could "just find other help." But there is NO alternative. My suffering—the raw, suffocating kind that can't be medicated or reasoned away—was dismissed as "dangerous" or "toxic." Even after I'd made peace with my decision to leave, all I got was the empty platitude: "I hope you don't kill yourself." The world accepts this as "support," when what I truly needed was for someone—anyone—to hold my hand during my last stretch of the journey.
I truly believe this society is built for the self-interested, for those who can detach and protect themselves first. It is not built for those who love or feel too deeply—for us, there is no space, no safety net, no grace.