willitpass
Don’t try to offer me help, I’ve tried everything
- Mar 10, 2020
- 2,945
I won't say it is on its way. I've thought that many times before for over a decade and been wrong. But I think it may be. I'm in my hotel right now. I've got it booked for two nights. I've got the door barricaded with a desk and the dead bolt and latch secured in hopes that hotel staff will not be able to get in without calling the police or fire department. I'm hopeful to be able to spare as many people the sight of my body possible. I have my journals and photo album with me just about to open them to the correct pages around me in bed. All open to the most telling pages of the suffering I have endured since I was just a child. Dating all the way back to my journal entry I wrote my first time self harming at the age of 9. I've got a diaper on to contain any post mortem mess, yet again trying to spare hotel staff. I've got my stethoscope, blood pressure cuff, and pulse ox with me to monitor myself while I'm still conscious. The pill bottles are on the bedside table, I took off the labels for the two cardiac meds as those are the two significant ones I will be taking. If I am found alive I want it to be as difficult as possible for EMS to know what I took and as such how to best treat me. The plastic trash bag and rubber band are next to me ready to be placed over my head when I feel unconsciousness nearing as a final precaution.
I know many people have followed me in my journey as of late. Some may even remember me from when I joined four years ago. Some may have never really looked at any of my threads. Some may be lurkers and pro-lifers looking for a reason to say this site is some evil death cult looking to kill the vulnerable. For those who are looking don't know me, this is not some spur of the moment decision. This is not a case of someone who didn't think to seek help. My mental health first started to go downhill when I was severely traumatized by my mother at the age of six. I was in therapy from that age. After that I had severe anger issues and temper tantrums until I was 9. When those finally subsided, it was only a matter of months before the outward anger turned into inner turmoil. I cut myself for the first time at the age of 9. By the age of 10 I became suicidal. Initially the thoughts were intrusive and scared me. I was started on my first antidepressant at the ripe age of 11. But it wasn't long before they became true suicidal thoughts. I almost hung myself at 12 but backed out. I nearly succeeded at hanging myself at 13 and it was a miracle I survived without long term damage.
That marks the beginning of my true journey through the mental healthcare system. Hospitalized at 13. Sent home with therapy. Soon started on another med. Hospitalized again the week I turned 14. My first restraint. More meds. Hospitalized again for several months and tried on more meds than I can count at 14. Even got ECT. Got restrained again and left with a lot of trauma. Went home with extremely intensive outpatient therapy 4-5 days a week. Made it a good long while without a hospitalization or med change until all came crashing down again. I had my second serious attempt going over a dam and attempting to drown myself and give myself hypothermia in the middle of winter. Back to the hospital. More med changes, new intensive therapy program. Found my way here in March 2020 while in intensive therapy but feeling completely hopeless and helpless. October that year I took SN and came so close I needed CPR. I went to residential for months after that and was restrained several more times and traumatized more than I thought possible. Trialed different meds while I was there. Came home and thought I was recovered for a few months before it all came crashing down again, while still on meds and in therapy, and came back here. By January 2023 I took myself off meds as they hadn't managed to change a single thing over the years. By January 2024 I decided I was reaping no benefit from therapy and hadn't for years so decided to stop wasting time. This site has held only a small part of my mental health journey. It is far from to blame. There is so much more woven into all of this over a decade of suffering that I won't even delve into.
If someone is looking for something to blame blame my shit genetics that predisposed me to become sick. Blame my mother for fucking me up at such a young age my brain didn't have the chance to wire itself properly. Blame the mental healthcare system for traumatizing me so much I would rather jump off a bridge than step foot near it again. If you want to help people like me, reform the mental healthcare system so it doesn't hurt people more than it helps. If you want to help people like me, fund research for new treatments for people who exhausted all options years ago and have nowhere else to turn.
I had a life going for me. A job I loved in healthcare that I had dreamed of for years and years. Working to get another degree to further that job that I was managing incredible grades in despite my mental health declining over the entire time I've been working towards it. A wonderful father and siblings who love me and will be torn apart by this. A cat who will probably struggle horribly to cope with my loss. There are many things in my life that are good. I do not just sit here and say the world is better off without me and no one will care. I do think about the people who love me. It's what kept me here for over a decade despite how much I've wanted to let go so many times. But this is not living.
My life is torn apart by mental illness. Mental illness that cannot be helped by years of therapy and meds and ECT. Nothing has gotten me to a point where I have been content with myself or living, in fact things have only been on a downward spiral for almost 2 years now. I thought I'd hit rock bottom, 2024 has shown me it keeps deeper and deeper by the day. Things have reached a point where I am no longer treating myself like a human. I have hurt myself in ways that are unimaginable. Rubbing literal shit in cuts, overdosing daily on over the counter pain killers to fuck with my organs, depriving myself of sleep and water and food, overdosing on laxatives multiple times a week. I disgust myself with how I treat myself but I can't stop. My mind has always had a chokehold on me, and as the years go by it only gets stronger.
I am exhausted. I pray that this will be the attempt that works. I've fought for my life almost every day that I've been alive. I am out of fight. I am ready to be done with the horrors my mind puts me through. I'm sorry.
I have not yet taken anything. I will update when/if I do.
I know many people have followed me in my journey as of late. Some may even remember me from when I joined four years ago. Some may have never really looked at any of my threads. Some may be lurkers and pro-lifers looking for a reason to say this site is some evil death cult looking to kill the vulnerable. For those who are looking don't know me, this is not some spur of the moment decision. This is not a case of someone who didn't think to seek help. My mental health first started to go downhill when I was severely traumatized by my mother at the age of six. I was in therapy from that age. After that I had severe anger issues and temper tantrums until I was 9. When those finally subsided, it was only a matter of months before the outward anger turned into inner turmoil. I cut myself for the first time at the age of 9. By the age of 10 I became suicidal. Initially the thoughts were intrusive and scared me. I was started on my first antidepressant at the ripe age of 11. But it wasn't long before they became true suicidal thoughts. I almost hung myself at 12 but backed out. I nearly succeeded at hanging myself at 13 and it was a miracle I survived without long term damage.
That marks the beginning of my true journey through the mental healthcare system. Hospitalized at 13. Sent home with therapy. Soon started on another med. Hospitalized again the week I turned 14. My first restraint. More meds. Hospitalized again for several months and tried on more meds than I can count at 14. Even got ECT. Got restrained again and left with a lot of trauma. Went home with extremely intensive outpatient therapy 4-5 days a week. Made it a good long while without a hospitalization or med change until all came crashing down again. I had my second serious attempt going over a dam and attempting to drown myself and give myself hypothermia in the middle of winter. Back to the hospital. More med changes, new intensive therapy program. Found my way here in March 2020 while in intensive therapy but feeling completely hopeless and helpless. October that year I took SN and came so close I needed CPR. I went to residential for months after that and was restrained several more times and traumatized more than I thought possible. Trialed different meds while I was there. Came home and thought I was recovered for a few months before it all came crashing down again, while still on meds and in therapy, and came back here. By January 2023 I took myself off meds as they hadn't managed to change a single thing over the years. By January 2024 I decided I was reaping no benefit from therapy and hadn't for years so decided to stop wasting time. This site has held only a small part of my mental health journey. It is far from to blame. There is so much more woven into all of this over a decade of suffering that I won't even delve into.
If someone is looking for something to blame blame my shit genetics that predisposed me to become sick. Blame my mother for fucking me up at such a young age my brain didn't have the chance to wire itself properly. Blame the mental healthcare system for traumatizing me so much I would rather jump off a bridge than step foot near it again. If you want to help people like me, reform the mental healthcare system so it doesn't hurt people more than it helps. If you want to help people like me, fund research for new treatments for people who exhausted all options years ago and have nowhere else to turn.
I had a life going for me. A job I loved in healthcare that I had dreamed of for years and years. Working to get another degree to further that job that I was managing incredible grades in despite my mental health declining over the entire time I've been working towards it. A wonderful father and siblings who love me and will be torn apart by this. A cat who will probably struggle horribly to cope with my loss. There are many things in my life that are good. I do not just sit here and say the world is better off without me and no one will care. I do think about the people who love me. It's what kept me here for over a decade despite how much I've wanted to let go so many times. But this is not living.
My life is torn apart by mental illness. Mental illness that cannot be helped by years of therapy and meds and ECT. Nothing has gotten me to a point where I have been content with myself or living, in fact things have only been on a downward spiral for almost 2 years now. I thought I'd hit rock bottom, 2024 has shown me it keeps deeper and deeper by the day. Things have reached a point where I am no longer treating myself like a human. I have hurt myself in ways that are unimaginable. Rubbing literal shit in cuts, overdosing daily on over the counter pain killers to fuck with my organs, depriving myself of sleep and water and food, overdosing on laxatives multiple times a week. I disgust myself with how I treat myself but I can't stop. My mind has always had a chokehold on me, and as the years go by it only gets stronger.
I am exhausted. I pray that this will be the attempt that works. I've fought for my life almost every day that I've been alive. I am out of fight. I am ready to be done with the horrors my mind puts me through. I'm sorry.
I have not yet taken anything. I will update when/if I do.
