I found this message board by shear coincidence and read some of the threads on suicide. It is both sad and comforting to realize just how many people out there face the same dilemma and heartache, though might have been caused by a different reason. I’m very much familiar with the overwhelming sense of self-unimportance and guilt a lot of you describe in their posts. My story is banal and has nothing new to offer, but sometimes it is nice to be able to have someone listen.
First and far most, I do not hate my life. In fact, it is difficult to ignore the fact how well-adjusted my life is and how great it would have been to enjoy it where it not for being myself. Most times I look in the mirror I see the shell that I like and pity (pity for it to be stuck with someone like me, who makes its existence so miserable). It is very difficult to describe what exactly makes me so unhappy. Sometimes I can reason it out (failure, family guilt, insecurities and so on). And other times, when I wake up in the morning, here it is, out of nowhere – I cant take another breath because just being seems to hurt. I call those my “NyQuill” days. That is to say I call in sick, get a bottle of the “original” green flavor and take it promptly every 4 hours for about a day or two (whichever I can afford without raising any complications or suspicions on anyone’s part). Quite effective actually (especially in exceeded dosages): cheap and accessible, great sleeping aid (which is why every 4 hours). Anyhow, I wont go into my other “coping” routines.
I have thought about suicide for years, but like a lot of you only ended up with a silly scar. I am now thinking today might be the day. Or tomorrow. Or whenever my roommate is out at night .The emotional rollercoaster I go through in a course of a single day gets to be unbearable sometimes (btw, others consider me energetic, hyper and pleasant. That is , of course, because they don’t see me crash hard in the end of the day ). I feel exhausted from the fact that even when things get better (often for month) they inevitably snap right back to these periods of depression, and each one feels more intense then the previous. Although it may be disappointment factor. Last year got (as this year) especially so hard. Sometimes I hate my lovely family for living, because their affection and love is the only thing keeping me around and making me feel horribly guilty for even having all those emotions. It is a loop: the more I’m miserable, the more I feel I should not be feeling this way, the less I can help it, the less I want to deal with this whole thing. I’m so very tired of myself, I cant stand it. I wish I could make some use of my life and spare it to someone who really loves it here, but has little time left.
Sorry for rambling, and thank you for listening
