Venting I'm so desperate for someone to understand my pain, I feel so alone

[56842]

I don't know? I don't believe my story is all that unique or difficult. In fact I'm incredibly lucky compared to a most other people in the world. But I just feel like no matter how much I try to communicate or explain no one understands. Why can't I feel a connection? I feel like something is wrong but I don't know what, and meanwhile I just feel more broken. My current therapist I feel has come closest to giving me validation, but I feel like it's because his life experience is so drastically different from mine that he doesn't bring any preconceptions into the room with him, but I can never get full understanding because our demographics are so drastically different. My family does not understand mental health at all, for them it's enough for me to be the token "mentally ill relative," (because of course none of them need therapy /s) but this means they're so emotionally repressed that we simply cannot communicate. I am a person who has put in an insane amount of work over 15 years of therapy, we are just too radically different in our perspectives and self-awareness to have any productive communication. And I have no friends because I'm a loser, so there's really nowhere for me to let out my pain except onto myself, in writing, and into the void I guess. I'm very put together, and I look good with little to no grooming so as soon as people see me they develop a certain schema of me that is just NOT TRUE (but my therapists always write down that I'm well groomed in the treatment summary and relatives always say "oh you look so good" and one asshole told me "you can just be a model" after I had to drop out of college after taking a medical leave- thank my parents for their genes then? But that's NOT ME, I just want to not feel so sad all the time. I know this because people have told me how, "they were jealous of how good I looked all the time" or wondered why I was even in the hospital/treatment center, "you don't seem like you need help." Meanwhile I'm literally standing on a cliff's edge. What use is being pretty? I'm an aromatic virgin, I'm not interested. I don't even leave my apartment. I just want someone to believe me when I talk about my pain instead of pretending I don't exist even when I'm breaking down in tears right next to them. I broke today and wrote this:

2024 was the year my parents killed me. They suffocated me slowly in the name of "helping"me. They trapped me in the name of "protecting" me. They made me kill who I am in order to survive in this prison they built me without going crazy. And because I had to shut down to survive, I didn't have the reserves to even consider escaping (I did try though, and they just locked me back in with lies). I ground half of my teeth away from the stress of simply surviving in their house. They told me that they would help but time and time again when I begged for help, crying, they would turn away. That's how they killed the love in me. Now I'm so fucking broken I don't even know how to go about fixing myself. And I love them still, I always will, but I might also hate them forever too. But if there's nowhere I can go to find love anymore how can I even start healing? I can find peace with myself, I can love myself, but I can't heal without bonds of humanity that I can trust in. They broke me and then the took away any chance I had to be able to get back up again. I have no faith left in anything but myself, and that was a rocky confidence to begin with. So what am I supposed to do now? No matter where I go there will just be more pain and an inevitable death. And at this point why the fuck am I still protecting them from my feelings? Why should I? What right to they have to sleep in peace when I haven't slept in weeks? I hate this hate in me but no matter what I do, it's the only thing that grows because I can't find any paths to healing. But I don't want to die with hate in my heart, I want to die with peace. But I can't do that until they wake the fuck up. Will I still be alive by they time the get there? If I am will I just be a monster by that point anyways? What can I do? What is even left?

I don't like the person I'm becoming, but I don't know what else to do. I want to be heard but I've tried everything and they still don't seem to get it. But I was too desperate and ruined the relationships around me. Now everyone is just burnt out by me. I think too much, I feel too much, I talk too much. They say"it's not that bad" and "you'll be fine." I don't want platitudes. They're tired and I'm still bleeding, so it looks like everyone's worse all around. But I can seem to stop searching for someone to hear me. I am so desperate for someone to just say: "I understand." I am not the kind of person that can live the rest of her life alone, I so desperately want a place I can belong. I I hate that after I worked so hard to love myself, I'm turning right back towards hating myself again. I do not want to be a hateful person, I do not want to be a person that looks down on others or insults them, I don't want to be this bitter bitch I'm becoming. God what am I even saying anymore.

edit: ffs I chopped off my hair with rusty kitchen scissors and people gushed over my new "haircut" but when I beg them to read my poetry it's radio silence, and when they finally read some of my writing they're like "I didn't know you wrote." Okay then past my face and my mental illness what do you know about me.

edit 2 (i really do talk to much): I feel so untethered, in a bad way. like there's nothing left to hold me down to this earth, no connection that will come to mind in the seconds before. I'm drifting along, trying to latch on the moment wherever I am, but even that feels infinitely ephemeral and unreal. When I amongst people, I can see they seem to be part of a larger tapestry, but I can't find the weave that is me among them. I don't really know what I'm doing here. Sometimes, momentarily, I can summon fleeting interest in something. I can feel proud of myself for doing things that are difficult, like the dishes or going for a drive or accepting hard to swallow truths, but these are also limited to disparate moments. I love myself but I do not love life. I feel I do not fit among these people that are moving forward on a larger timeline, rather than me who can only try to anchor herself to moments that pass and go. There is nothing to build on, no dots to connect that make my own life's timeline. I simply do not comprehend the faith in this thing called life. That people can move through the world having an expectation of tomorrow. I do not understand. I live knowing only that my life will exist until the next second or hour or hours, or just until the sun rises. Beyond that, I can hope and grit my teeth and tell myself that I must get to June 7, but it is built on willpower and nothing else. I can tell myself that I cannot die until my apartment's lease is up in a year, but that is purely spite and nothing else. Just a vague resignation that sets my stomach churning. No matter how I twist my imagination, I cannot fathom the me that might be a year away. But for now I have a vague desire to lay on the ground and watch the snow fall on top of me, so maybe that is enough to keep me here along with the spite and the sloshing in my stomach. Honestly though? I don't know. At this point I don't even know why I'm trying. It feels like living has become a habit instead of a choice. That's what happens when you life your life for years just delaying, hoping that something will change. But nothing is changing, and this habit is starting to give me a sense of existential crisis. One that shakes the routines that have kept me safe, that make me stay honest when they ask me if I need help. It creeped up on me a bit, I admit, but I can't shake it now that it's settled: the resolution that I will stay under the radar, "safe," so that when I do decide to kill myself, I can do it cleanly and painlessly, without alerting anyone, and so that it gets done without complications. I am teetering on the edge, same as ever, but it feels like I'm a little but higher and a little less wiser this time around.

 

[BlankZeroNone]

edit: ffs I chopped off my hair with rusty kitchen scissors and people gushed over my new "haircut" but when I beg them to read my poetry it's radio silence

god damn what an edit haha

I can definitely relate to a lot of what you wrote. i hope you'll find a place where you belong, you deserve it.

and I'd totally read your poetry and writing if you want to share it

 

[grapevoid]

Yes, share the poetry!

 

[56842]

Yes, share the poetry!

oof, here goes:

-
I've been playing a waiting game
decided to just let this intermission play
for now it's a lazy day by day
so don't ask me for the date
I'm just trying to live in the moment, think
hour by hour distract until I knock out
defer living life for when I find bandwidth
bar's on the floor and I'm in the basement
from down here your feet look oppressive
my voice echoes though this chamber
carrying the rasp of tears that I swallowed
just because the ceiling between us
muffles the waver, don't forget that I suffer
don't forget that I struggle
don't forget my perspective
don't forget that I'm trying against my nature
so don't ask me to meet your bare minimum
because your given equates my gauntlet
bracing my shoulders for the weight of existing
lift up that mountain every time I breathe in
putting my faith in the nature of change
hope for a day where I get up because I want it
but for now I'll settle to pass the time
playing the waiting game until I find freedom

 

[twilightSparriw]

'ffs I chopped off my hair with rusty kitchen scissors and people gushed over my new "haircut" but when I beg them to read my poetry it's radio silence'

Is already my favorite poem

 

[grapevoid]

'ffs I chopped off my hair with rusty kitchen scissors and people gushed over my new "haircut" but when I beg them to read my poetry it's radio silence'

Is already my favorite poem

It is quite relatable TBH

oof, here goes:

-
I've been playing a waiting game
decided to just let this intermission play
for now it's a lazy day by day
so don't ask me for the date
I'm just trying to live in the moment, think
hour by hour distract until I knock out
defer living life for when I find bandwidth
bar's on the floor and I'm in the basement
from down here your feet look oppressive
my voice echoes though this chamber
carrying the rasp of tears that I swallowed
just because the ceiling between us
muffles the waver, don't forget that I suffer
don't forget that I struggle
don't forget my perspective
don't forget that I'm trying against my nature
so don't ask me to meet your bare minimum
because your given equates my gauntlet
bracing my shoulders for the weight of existing
lift up that mountain every time I breathe in
putting my faith in the nature of change
hope for a day where I get up because I want it
but for now I'll settle to pass the time
playing the waiting game until I find freedom

 

[Crematoryy]

You write exceptionally well. However, I do not have the privilege of saying that "I am a beautiful person, an aromatic virgin (in your words) and that I love myself but hate life." I harbor a hatred for life and myself. I have never been admired by anyone -- and I will continue not to be. I have to deal with my ugliness every day when I look in the mirror. And as if the displeasure of my own critical sense were not enough, I still hear disdainful comments. The world has never offered me the means to become beautiful, but it demands it of me constantly. I hate people who appreciate themselves, because they will never know what it is like to feel that way.

The pain of loneliness is imperceptible. Human connection is essential for happiness. This is not a personal preference, but something prescribed by genetics. Evolutionarily, isolated individuals incurred risks and died, while grouping together guaranteed protection and survival. This has been reinforced and is contained in many species (including humans).

First, loneliness drives us crazy, forcing our minds to fulfill this emotional need alone. Then we start daydreaming about "imaginary friends or relationships," or touching our own skin to simulate the physical interaction of others. When two people agree on what they are seeing, they mutually reinforce their beliefs. Loneliness causes us to lose our psychological checks on the reality that surrounds us, thus generating crises of derealization and depersonalization.

god damn what an edit haha

I can definitely relate to a lot of what you wrote. i hope you'll find a place where you belong, you deserve it.

and I'd totally read your poetry and writing if you want to share it

How do I mark specific parts of the text to respond to without copying it all at once and having to delete the predicate?

 

[56842]

You write exceptionally well. However, I do not have the privilege of saying that "I am a beautiful person, an aromatic virgin (in your words) and that I love myself but hate life." I harbor a hatred for life and myself. I have never been admired by anyone -- and I will continue not to be. I have to deal with my ugliness every day when I look in the mirror. And as if the displeasure of my own critical sense were not enough, I still hear disdainful comments. The world has never offered me the means to become beautiful, but it demands it of me constantly. I hate people who appreciate themselves, because they will never know what it is like to feel that way.

The pain of loneliness is imperceptible. Human connection is essential for happiness. This is not a personal preference, but something prescribed by genetics. Evolutionarily, isolated individuals incurred risks and died, while grouping together guaranteed protection and survival. This has been reinforced and is contained in many species (including humans).

First, loneliness drives us crazy, forcing our minds to fulfill this emotional need alone. Then we start daydreaming about "imaginary friends or relationships," or touching our own skin to simulate the physical interaction of others. When two people agree on what they are seeing, they mutually reinforce their beliefs. Loneliness causes us to lose our psychological checks on the reality that surrounds us, thus generating crises of derealization and depersonalization.

How do I mark specific parts of the text to respond to without copying it all at once and having to delete the predicate?

I'm sorry to hear the lack of validation you've experienced. At least on forums like these we can 'see' each other for our words, something becoming paltry in the the real world, I admit, but I admire your writing as well! You are a very impactful writer, being able to say the most with the fewest words is a remarkable talent.

Another thing, as I'm getting older I'm noticing more acutely this thing people call "pretty privilege" and how it's dwindling as I get older. The commodity known as skin deep beauty has an expiration date (and a price tag) for sure.

re: the benefit of socialization --- Yeah, this is something I am definitely realizing right now, I'm making an effort to expand my social sphere

 

[56842]

UPDATE: things are Not Going Well™

I really don't like being alone, because I don't really find any joy/interest in living when I'm by myself. I feel very out of place. I don't want to be here. I don't know what I'm doing here. I don't really know how to describe it myself. I want to cry. I don't want to live. I want to sleep. I can only pass the time when I have something to do or accomplish. But I don't want a life like that. I want happiness, contentment, joy, not whatever this blackness is. Nothing is ever easy, I know, and it's not necessarily hard either. It's just purgatory. I want company, I want things to happen, I want to see the brightness of life. But when I'm alone all I see is grey. And I don't know what to do. I can run around by myself, see new cool things, but everything is still grey. Is this what it means to be codependent? On who though? Just humanity in general? That makes sense, we're a social species. Maybe this is just chronic loneliness, like Dr. ~ says. But if I'm going to do this thing, life or whatever it is, I need to be okay with just me. I need to be able to live with just me. And I don't think I want to do that. I love myself, I love my family, I love spending time with people, I love being in the middle of bustle and things happening, I like schedules, I like learning, I like doing things, but I hate this ennui. This deep set distance from mundane life. Waking up alone, getting ready alone, going out alone, figuring out things to do alone, the time in between all the other things that happen. Life I suppose. I'm just not built for it, and I don't know how to pretend it either. I'm just sad and tired.

Gotta get through today first my dude...

 

[56842]

UPDATE: getting through the days is not working, getting to need self-harm every day... I'm so sick of this shit

lol how do I get through this safely without freaking out my grandparents, i need the pain

 

[hopeifindmyself]

I don't know? I don't believe my story is all that unique or difficult. In fact I'm incredibly lucky compared to a most other people in the world. But I just feel like no matter how much I try to communicate or explain no one understands. Why can't I feel a connection? I feel like something is wrong but I don't know what, and meanwhile I just feel more broken. My current therapist I feel has come closest to giving me validation, but I feel like it's because his life experience is so drastically different from mine that he doesn't bring any preconceptions into the room with him, but I can never get full understanding because our demographics are so drastically different. My family does not understand mental health at all, for them it's enough for me to be the token "mentally ill relative," (because of course none of them need therapy /s) but this means they're so emotionally repressed that we simply cannot communicate. I am a person who has put in an insane amount of work over 15 years of therapy, we are just too radically different in our perspectives and self-awareness to have any productive communication. And I have no friends because I'm a loser, so there's really nowhere for me to let out my pain except onto myself, in writing, and into the void I guess. I'm very put together, and I look good with little to no grooming so as soon as people see me they develop a certain schema of me that is just NOT TRUE (but my therapists always write down that I'm well groomed in the treatment summary and relatives always say "oh you look so good" and one asshole told me "you can just be a model" after I had to drop out of college after taking a medical leave- thank my parents for their genes then? But that's NOT ME, I just want to not feel so sad all the time. I know this because people have told me how, "they were jealous of how good I looked all the time" or wondered why I was even in the hospital/treatment center, "you don't seem like you need help." Meanwhile I'm literally standing on a cliff's edge. What use is being pretty? I'm an aromatic virgin, I'm not interested. I don't even leave my apartment. I just want someone to believe me when I talk about my pain instead of pretending I don't exist even when I'm breaking down in tears right next to them. I broke today and wrote this:

2024 was the year my parents killed me. They suffocated me slowly in the name of "helping"me. They trapped me in the name of "protecting" me. They made me kill who I am in order to survive in this prison they built me without going crazy. And because I had to shut down to survive, I didn't have the reserves to even consider escaping (I did try though, and they just locked me back in with lies). I ground half of my teeth away from the stress of simply surviving in their house. They told me that they would help but time and time again when I begged for help, crying, they would turn away. That's how they killed the love in me. Now I'm so fucking broken I don't even know how to go about fixing myself. And I love them still, I always will, but I might also hate them forever too. But if there's nowhere I can go to find love anymore how can I even start healing? I can find peace with myself, I can love myself, but I can't heal without bonds of humanity that I can trust in. They broke me and then the took away any chance I had to be able to get back up again. I have no faith left in anything but myself, and that was a rocky confidence to begin with. So what am I supposed to do now? No matter where I go there will just be more pain and an inevitable death. And at this point why the fuck am I still protecting them from my feelings? Why should I? What right to they have to sleep in peace when I haven't slept in weeks? I hate this hate in me but no matter what I do, it's the only thing that grows because I can't find any paths to healing. But I don't want to die with hate in my heart, I want to die with peace. But I can't do that until they wake the fuck up. Will I still be alive by they time the get there? If I am will I just be a monster by that point anyways? What can I do? What is even left?

I don't like the person I'm becoming, but I don't know what else to do. I want to be heard but I've tried everything and they still don't seem to get it. But I was too desperate and ruined the relationships around me. Now everyone is just burnt out by me. I think too much, I feel too much, I talk too much. They say"it's not that bad" and "you'll be fine." I don't want platitudes. They're tired and I'm still bleeding, so it looks like everyone's worse all around. But I can seem to stop searching for someone to hear me. I am so desperate for someone to just say: "I understand." I am not the kind of person that can live the rest of her life alone, I so desperately want a place I can belong. I I hate that after I worked so hard to love myself, I'm turning right back towards hating myself again. I do not want to be a hateful person, I do not want to be a person that looks down on others or insults them, I don't want to be this bitter bitch I'm becoming. God what am I even saying anymore.

edit: ffs I chopped off my hair with rusty kitchen scissors and people gushed over my new "haircut" but when I beg them to read my poetry it's radio silence, and when they finally read some of my writing they're like "I didn't know you wrote." Okay then past my face and my mental illness what do you know about me.

edit 2 (i really do talk to much): I feel so untethered, in a bad way. like there's nothing left to hold me down to this earth, no connection that will come to mind in the seconds before. I'm drifting along, trying to latch on the moment wherever I am, but even that feels infinitely ephemeral and unreal. When I amongst people, I can see they seem to be part of a larger tapestry, but I can't find the weave that is me among them. I don't really know what I'm doing here. Sometimes, momentarily, I can summon fleeting interest in something. I can feel proud of myself for doing things that are difficult, like the dishes or going for a drive or accepting hard to swallow truths, but these are also limited to disparate moments. I love myself but I do not love life. I feel I do not fit among these people that are moving forward on a larger timeline, rather than me who can only try to anchor herself to moments that pass and go. There is nothing to build on, no dots to connect that make my own life's timeline. I simply do not comprehend the faith in this thing called life. That people can move through the world having an expectation of tomorrow. I do not understand. I live knowing only that my life will exist until the next second or hour or hours, or just until the sun rises. Beyond that, I can hope and grit my teeth and tell myself that I must get to June 7, but it is built on willpower and nothing else. I can tell myself that I cannot die until my apartment's lease is up in a year, but that is purely spite and nothing else. Just a vague resignation that sets my stomach churning. No matter how I twist my imagination, I cannot fathom the me that might be a year away. But for now I have a vague desire to lay on the ground and watch the snow fall on top of me, so maybe that is enough to keep me here along with the spite and the sloshing in my stomach. Honestly though? I don't know. At this point I don't even know why I'm trying. It feels like living has become a habit instead of a choice. That's what happens when you life your life for years just delaying, hoping that something will change. But nothing is changing, and this habit is starting to give me a sense of existential crisis. One that shakes the routines that have kept me safe, that make me stay honest when they ask me if I need help. It creeped up on me a bit, I admit, but I can't shake it now that it's settled: the resolution that I will stay under the radar, "safe," so that when I do decide to kill myself, I can do it cleanly and painlessly, without alerting anyone, and so that it gets done without complications. I am teetering on the edge, same as ever, but it feels like I'm a little but higher and a little less wiser this time around.

I'll hear you if you need someone to understand. Don't hesitate to reach out. Comfort hugs

 

[Menilunai]

I feel kind of the same and relate to you in some way, maybe pain is not the best way to describe the feeling for me, but emptiness and loneliness is certainly there.
Then again I also feel like maybe being alone is fine, maybe there isn't someone out there for me, maybe there isn't someone I can connect with.
Doesn't mean I'll stop trying, I'll welcome company but I'll also accept it if I'm destined to never find the one for me.

I also feel like I'm considered lucky compared to some people, I don't have any health issues I'm aware of, I don't do drugs, drink, or are in debt, my looks are about average or above average considering where I'm from and I've gotten away with a few things because I look decent enough.
I would say the biggest downside is my mental, I don't have access to a psychiatrist so I haven't been diagnosed with anything but there's definitely a feeling of detachment and losing my sense of self, be it self worth or just who I want to be in general.

What helps me cope or I find joy in sometimes are in the little things I do, like getting one more rep in my workout from time to time. or finding a good horror story, or playing a new game, it's not much and it'll be nicer to have someone to share it with, but it'll do.

 

[56842]

(final) UPDATE (for now?):

I don't think I'm suicidal anymore. Which is a bit of a bummer because permanent escape is no longer an option. I am still ideating passively but there's no longer the same kind of conviction/intent to follow through.

I am not a fan of this development, because I still don't want to LIVE. I have no motivation to be conscious and do things. Not wanting to live but not willing to die. It sucks ass. Especially because I have no structure right now to get myself through the days.

I think this encapsulates the "nail on a chalkboard" feeling from the other day, the urgency that necessitated all the self-harm. Angst. I've entered the emo phase of my depression journey. Fun.

Fuck this honestly. Now that I'm not suicidal I just want some happy pills to give me the boost I need to get things done. But happy pills never worked all that great for me so I guess I'll just have to haul ass. Fun. FUNFUNFUN. I want to punch something. This is annoying AF.

From today on, stop living day by day. If you fail or fall through, fine, but take the leap of faith anyways. You're not dying anymore in any case, so just say fuck it and be done with it.

The only way out is through.

——

I suppose this marks a hiatus from this website. We'll see. For now, see y'all until I need suicide again.