I never imagined one day I'd be sat here on Christmas Eve posting on this forum, but here I am. I'm posting my story because nobody else knows, I don't know how this works but I want somebody to know. I'm Sam, from England.
When I was about 10, that's when I first started getting suicidal thoughts. Looking back it seems so far fetched, I'd been dumped by a primary school girlfriend, just harmless kid stuff. But for some reason at the time I didn't take it well, I remember writing down about how I want to kill myself, and I tried to self harm. I didn't have the guts to 'properly' do it - I was only 10 - but I remember my mum had a lot of needles because she used to sew a lot, and I'd get the needles and just stab my hands and my arms. My mum noticed the suicidal stuff but somehow I successfully played it off as a joke.
From then until about age 15 things were generally okay. I was in high school at this point. And I got my first experience of anxiety, 'toilet anxiety'. Really embarrassing and peculiar. Basically, in difficult situations (eg. school assemblies, exams, places with no nearby toilet access) my mind would start telling me I needed to pee. It was so powerful that I couldn't tell the difference between this anxiety, and genuinely needing to pee. So I'd feel like I was going to wet myself, then when I finally get to a toilet, nothing came out. Because it was my anxiety. This lasted a few years and ruined my life. I spent every lunch break in the toilets, I missed out on school trips and going out with friends. Luckily I overcame the anxiety by myself after high school.
Then came college (UK version, so age 16-18). I struggled with anxiety around my exams - and still do to this day - but it's manageable. College wasn't too bad at first but it's when I first started to realise how lonely I was getting, how I was almost an outcast in my friend group, never involved and if I wasn't there my absence wouldn't have been noticed. Luckily, it was almost time for university - a fresh start - or so I thought.
I went to university on the opposite side of the country, long story short I got homesick, made no friends, dropped out after a few weeks. The following year was horrible, depressing, lonely as fuck. I became mildly suicidal, I'd research it knowing that I'd never have the guts to do it.
Then I went to a university closer to home, in September 2017. First year was awful. Again I made no friends, I was lonely, I got depressed in the winter and prescribed antidepressants which I never took.
I struggled along and made it to 2nd year. This was amazing. I met my first proper girlfriend, my first love. The best time of my life, seeing her, going on holidays with my family. 8 months but it felt like years. And when it ended after 8 months, in July of this year, I crashed back down to reality. More depressed than I could imagine, more hopeless and lifeless than I thought I would ever be. I've been seeing a therapist for a few months, it's helped so much with my anxiety but not so much with the depression. I'm falling behind on my studies because I have no energy anymore. I'm on antidepressants but they're not helping; in the rare occasions I'm not deeply depressed, I'm just ill from the side effects.
So I'm done and there's no changing my mind. SN is my first choice (still need to acquire this), going down to Sussex and jumping off Beachy head is my backup choice. I've given myself 2 dates, one in late January and a backup in February. I can't wait to not feel pain anymore.
I feel horribly guilty. I know so many people would do anything for some aspects of my life. I have a loving family, no financial worries, heck I'm lucky enough to go on holidays to places like New York or Disney world regularly. But I'd swap everything I have for genuine happiness. Unfortunately that isn't possible, I don't remember what happiness even feels like anymore. And I'm sorry if it's selfish of me to leave this life behind, but the pain inside of me is too unbearable to carry on.
And that's my story
When I was about 10, that's when I first started getting suicidal thoughts. Looking back it seems so far fetched, I'd been dumped by a primary school girlfriend, just harmless kid stuff. But for some reason at the time I didn't take it well, I remember writing down about how I want to kill myself, and I tried to self harm. I didn't have the guts to 'properly' do it - I was only 10 - but I remember my mum had a lot of needles because she used to sew a lot, and I'd get the needles and just stab my hands and my arms. My mum noticed the suicidal stuff but somehow I successfully played it off as a joke.
From then until about age 15 things were generally okay. I was in high school at this point. And I got my first experience of anxiety, 'toilet anxiety'. Really embarrassing and peculiar. Basically, in difficult situations (eg. school assemblies, exams, places with no nearby toilet access) my mind would start telling me I needed to pee. It was so powerful that I couldn't tell the difference between this anxiety, and genuinely needing to pee. So I'd feel like I was going to wet myself, then when I finally get to a toilet, nothing came out. Because it was my anxiety. This lasted a few years and ruined my life. I spent every lunch break in the toilets, I missed out on school trips and going out with friends. Luckily I overcame the anxiety by myself after high school.
Then came college (UK version, so age 16-18). I struggled with anxiety around my exams - and still do to this day - but it's manageable. College wasn't too bad at first but it's when I first started to realise how lonely I was getting, how I was almost an outcast in my friend group, never involved and if I wasn't there my absence wouldn't have been noticed. Luckily, it was almost time for university - a fresh start - or so I thought.
I went to university on the opposite side of the country, long story short I got homesick, made no friends, dropped out after a few weeks. The following year was horrible, depressing, lonely as fuck. I became mildly suicidal, I'd research it knowing that I'd never have the guts to do it.
Then I went to a university closer to home, in September 2017. First year was awful. Again I made no friends, I was lonely, I got depressed in the winter and prescribed antidepressants which I never took.
I struggled along and made it to 2nd year. This was amazing. I met my first proper girlfriend, my first love. The best time of my life, seeing her, going on holidays with my family. 8 months but it felt like years. And when it ended after 8 months, in July of this year, I crashed back down to reality. More depressed than I could imagine, more hopeless and lifeless than I thought I would ever be. I've been seeing a therapist for a few months, it's helped so much with my anxiety but not so much with the depression. I'm falling behind on my studies because I have no energy anymore. I'm on antidepressants but they're not helping; in the rare occasions I'm not deeply depressed, I'm just ill from the side effects.
So I'm done and there's no changing my mind. SN is my first choice (still need to acquire this), going down to Sussex and jumping off Beachy head is my backup choice. I've given myself 2 dates, one in late January and a backup in February. I can't wait to not feel pain anymore.
I feel horribly guilty. I know so many people would do anything for some aspects of my life. I have a loving family, no financial worries, heck I'm lucky enough to go on holidays to places like New York or Disney world regularly. But I'd swap everything I have for genuine happiness. Unfortunately that isn't possible, I don't remember what happiness even feels like anymore. And I'm sorry if it's selfish of me to leave this life behind, but the pain inside of me is too unbearable to carry on.
And that's my story
