OuijaBored
Member
- Apr 8, 2022
- 27
Has anyone gotten to the point where you can't CTB? I mean where you've tried so many times that it's gotten to that point where it seems like it just won't happen for you?
I feel like I've reached that point. I spent years doing reckless shit hoping I'd die, with a few attempts, and of course I survived it. Fuck knows how I'm still here, I believe the God's must be malevolent and cruel.
It seemed like when I was a young teen it was so much easier to cut, or to OD, or start eating random pills in numbers to even go there. Now I see a razor and I start panicking, or my throat gags when taking something like a fucking paracetamol. I feel like my brain has categorised all my attempts in "you got too close so now we're putting this in the fear pile".
Humans endure, we are endurance as a species. We are just that word, encompassing us entirely. Our bodies and mind knows what to eat, for the basis of survival and to obtain nutrients. Where the fuck did you think cravings came from? Our brain and body does the same with suicide attempt information. Stashes it in a pile and makes us physically revolt against it.
I feel the longer you contemplate, the longer you research, the more you level your head with it, the more likely you are to survive and struggle with SI. It's a losing battle, its pushing a boulder uphill, and I feel fucking hopeless. Having someone on here tell me I'm weak for not being dead yet feels like a slap in the face. I've tried, I don't make the rules about how my body endures while I take the hits emotionally, mentally, physically, and psychologically. I don't get to make the rules, my body does that for me.
How are we supposed to ride through this then? I can't fathom another hour, another day, another week. I feel guilty for the anger I feel at those who also suffer, while feeling they don't suffer like me. I don't want them to, but why the hell should I feel empathy for someone who's going through my worst nightmare at 15, while I'm sitting here in my mid 20s dealing with things that are so unfathomable worse that my younger self would've definity checked out of.
I feel fucking r*tarded. (I'll use that word because I can reclaim. Sorry if its triggering.) I feel stupid as shit for my body and my brain being in control, rather than my spirit and my mind. I can't fucking get anywhere like this. I'm still saving and buying like it'll magically go away, fully well knowing it never will. I'm still planning for a life that I won't get to live.
The endurance of hope is the worst, because all you ever do is feel hopeless. Looking at things saved for a life, hoping and yet having it taunt you and mercilessly sitting there as a reminder that nothing will change.
Nothing ever changes. It doesn't get better. Every six months it gets 100x worse than it did before. I don't want to spend my life traumatised and having to "fix" myself. I don't want anymore life lessons. I don't want a PhD in suffering.
I feel like I've reached that point. I spent years doing reckless shit hoping I'd die, with a few attempts, and of course I survived it. Fuck knows how I'm still here, I believe the God's must be malevolent and cruel.
It seemed like when I was a young teen it was so much easier to cut, or to OD, or start eating random pills in numbers to even go there. Now I see a razor and I start panicking, or my throat gags when taking something like a fucking paracetamol. I feel like my brain has categorised all my attempts in "you got too close so now we're putting this in the fear pile".
Humans endure, we are endurance as a species. We are just that word, encompassing us entirely. Our bodies and mind knows what to eat, for the basis of survival and to obtain nutrients. Where the fuck did you think cravings came from? Our brain and body does the same with suicide attempt information. Stashes it in a pile and makes us physically revolt against it.
I feel the longer you contemplate, the longer you research, the more you level your head with it, the more likely you are to survive and struggle with SI. It's a losing battle, its pushing a boulder uphill, and I feel fucking hopeless. Having someone on here tell me I'm weak for not being dead yet feels like a slap in the face. I've tried, I don't make the rules about how my body endures while I take the hits emotionally, mentally, physically, and psychologically. I don't get to make the rules, my body does that for me.
How are we supposed to ride through this then? I can't fathom another hour, another day, another week. I feel guilty for the anger I feel at those who also suffer, while feeling they don't suffer like me. I don't want them to, but why the hell should I feel empathy for someone who's going through my worst nightmare at 15, while I'm sitting here in my mid 20s dealing with things that are so unfathomable worse that my younger self would've definity checked out of.
I feel fucking r*tarded. (I'll use that word because I can reclaim. Sorry if its triggering.) I feel stupid as shit for my body and my brain being in control, rather than my spirit and my mind. I can't fucking get anywhere like this. I'm still saving and buying like it'll magically go away, fully well knowing it never will. I'm still planning for a life that I won't get to live.
The endurance of hope is the worst, because all you ever do is feel hopeless. Looking at things saved for a life, hoping and yet having it taunt you and mercilessly sitting there as a reminder that nothing will change.
Nothing ever changes. It doesn't get better. Every six months it gets 100x worse than it did before. I don't want to spend my life traumatised and having to "fix" myself. I don't want anymore life lessons. I don't want a PhD in suffering.
