KuriGohan&Kamehameha
想死不能 - 想活不能
- Nov 23, 2020
- 1,699
There's a point where you just know things won't get better, when an unsettling supposition becomes a morbid reality. Hope is the only thing that can keep you going amidst the despair, and mine has long been spent. I honestly feel so pathetic for feeling the way that I do, yet still sticking around like a parasitic leech, draining it's host.
Whenever I think it can't get any worse, it always does. My life is a prime example of effort not translating to success and reward, for many years I have fought this battle and I know it's something that can't be won. In my life, it's been a constant stream of losses, without much to gain. As time creeps forward and you become cognizant of it's passage as well as how your body ages, this realisation becomes all the more bitter.
It's crazy to me to think that I have spent over half my life being suicidal, and I'm still here, and still miserable. When I first started feeling suicidal around age 12/13, I remember being told that it would be temporary. Yet, I quickly came to realise that platitudes don't change anything, actions do. And actions were not taken during critical periods of my development which could have altered the course of my life and potentially freed me from this fucking pit of despair. That's something I'm going to have to live with for the rest of my life.
To exist like this is isolating beyond belief, and with each failed treatment, each setback, you become more and more estranged from what is normal and commonplace to the point where you no longer feel human. I remember the glimmer of hope and spark that was left in my eyes when I was told as a teenager that once I became an adult and left behind abusive people in my life who had hurt me, I could truly blossom. What I was not told is that illness would follow me always, that sickness would be my shadow for the rest of my days, and I never stood a chance.
I've had autism since I was born, and mental health issues like PTSD since early childhood. Then during my teenage years I started experiencing chronic pain and fatigue. No one on this earth seems to understand the toll that being let down over and over again does to you, when you get hyped up for the next treatment or thread of hope only for it to inevitably be crushed. When you realise that in your own personal situation, that feelings of hopelessness are warranted and rational because you tried everything in your power to make it better and nothing ever came to fruition.
I am so tired and ready to go. I've been on over 30 different drugs throughout my lifetime to try and heal my PTSD and my physical health issues, and nothing makes a dent in it. I've tried more therapists than you can count and have been told that I cannot be helped. I've spent thousands on private healthcare and supplements to try and get any sort of assistance with my chronic health issues, and nothing alleviates my pain or exhaustion.
After I had invasive surgery a few months ago for a different health issue, I haven't been the same. A month into surgery recovery my fatigue and brainfog suddenly got worse and it was like I died inside completely and became incredibly emotionally numb. I almost didn't finish university because I was too dumb to complete my work and would spend hours in front of the computer meant to be writing my thesis but I couldn't because my head was completely empty and my memory was shit.
I have lost so much and there is truly no point in continuing. My mother abandoned me as a baby, alcoholic father died early in my childhood, abusive family members that I was still attached too died as well, my grandpa that loved me is dead, my grandmother who is my last relative that loves me is sick and approaching extremely old age, I am truly alone in this world. My health is gone, I have experienced incurable chronic fatigue for over 6 years now with 0 improvement in symptom reduction whatsoever, and I also have degenerative disc disease and chronic back pain as well as nerve issues. The health service witholds pain management from me and tells me to take paracetamol so I get no relief for my chronic pain at all.
I am *only* 24 everyone says, but I feel more like a geriatric old man. I have seen and lived through the type of things that some people go their whole lives without dealing with, and I'm beyond exhausted. I've been traumatized and degraded more times than I can even count, most of my life has been filled with abusive relationships including being groomed as a young teenager, being sexually assaulted, and raped. I've had symptoms of PTSD since I was 5 years old and got violated by a doctor.
I'm so messed up that I can't really have relationships and am doomed to be permanently alone and struggling, not only due to my PTSD but due to the fact that the chronic illness has made me utterly dull and insufferable, difficult to be around, and a complete drain. I am often completely silent, I'm tired all of the time, and can't keep up with how other people live. I don't even think I have the capacity to love anymore, and once you hit this stage there is no colour in life anymore, only bleakness and rot. I've been abandoned by most of the people I ever cared about, and my illness has orchestrated many of these losses.
On their own, some of my issues might seem surmountable, but combined, they are simply unbearable. People do not understand the anguish I go through, or they accuse me of being depressed and chalk it up to that. As a teenager, I was often depressed though, and I don't feel this way anymore, I had so many things I wanted to do and experience, so many hopes and dreams that were snuffed out by the devastation of my conditions.
I had a passion for research and trying to improve the broken healthcare industry, yet with my level of disability, I can never work in this field. I tried working in a hospital and academic lab and was constantly unable to perform to the level expected, falling asleep from exhaustion, and accused of laziness. When you have CFS though, everyone thinks you're a faker though and does not believe you are actually ill. Despite my PTSD, I actually wanted to become a doctor, but my PTSD is so severe I involuntarily get aroused by triggering things and it's absolutely disgusting and one of the things that's ruined my life completely and that no mental health "professional" could ever wrap their heads around.
I have nightmares about my failed dreams of becoming a doctor and clinical trials researcher frequently. Even if I were well though and my health miraculously improved, I don't have the money to afford a medical degree. At my university graduation, I had to choke back tears as many of my classmates walked across the stage and towards post-graduate medicine courses, while I had to sit with the knowledge that I will never be able to do anything and will become destitute if I don't ctb.
I will never marry or have children, and I will never have a career. There is just no point in living that way to me, it's pure misery. I've done several things I've always wanted to in the past few months, hoping that these impulsive splurges and decisions would improve my situation slightly, but they didn't. I always wanted to travel, and I got the chance to go to Japan and several Asian countries, yet I was completely miserable and in pain the entire time, trying to push through the fog, fatigue, and awful physical pain.
Before my illness got so bad, I studied languages a lot and got child-like proficiency in Japanese. When I was in Japan many locals complimented my language skills and told me I should come to Japan in the long term since my hobbies, interests, and mannerisms seem more suited towards living in Asia. I just wanted to cry, because if they knew the truth that I was a doomed cripple, they would never say those things. Truth be told, I would love to do those things, but I am not able. I wish I could read and write and make art and study and work, but instead I lay in bed most of my time, my head empty and my body burning with fever.
All my prospects in life are quickly drying up. There is a quote from Sylvia Plath, an author who ctb early in her life, about this that I often reflect on, I think many of us here can find it relatable:
"I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet."
When you can't have any of those figs, what even is life, except a futile exercise in merely existing? I honestly don't know why I'm still here, besides animalistic fear. I have gotten so close many times, but I can't bring myself to drink the salt. God, I wish I could though. I just want this to be over. I have spent many birthdays since I joined this forum, and nothing ever changes for the better. I wish I could even shed a tear, but I can't anymore. I wish I could be free instead of whining on here all the time like a broken record.
Whenever I think it can't get any worse, it always does. My life is a prime example of effort not translating to success and reward, for many years I have fought this battle and I know it's something that can't be won. In my life, it's been a constant stream of losses, without much to gain. As time creeps forward and you become cognizant of it's passage as well as how your body ages, this realisation becomes all the more bitter.
It's crazy to me to think that I have spent over half my life being suicidal, and I'm still here, and still miserable. When I first started feeling suicidal around age 12/13, I remember being told that it would be temporary. Yet, I quickly came to realise that platitudes don't change anything, actions do. And actions were not taken during critical periods of my development which could have altered the course of my life and potentially freed me from this fucking pit of despair. That's something I'm going to have to live with for the rest of my life.
To exist like this is isolating beyond belief, and with each failed treatment, each setback, you become more and more estranged from what is normal and commonplace to the point where you no longer feel human. I remember the glimmer of hope and spark that was left in my eyes when I was told as a teenager that once I became an adult and left behind abusive people in my life who had hurt me, I could truly blossom. What I was not told is that illness would follow me always, that sickness would be my shadow for the rest of my days, and I never stood a chance.
I've had autism since I was born, and mental health issues like PTSD since early childhood. Then during my teenage years I started experiencing chronic pain and fatigue. No one on this earth seems to understand the toll that being let down over and over again does to you, when you get hyped up for the next treatment or thread of hope only for it to inevitably be crushed. When you realise that in your own personal situation, that feelings of hopelessness are warranted and rational because you tried everything in your power to make it better and nothing ever came to fruition.
I am so tired and ready to go. I've been on over 30 different drugs throughout my lifetime to try and heal my PTSD and my physical health issues, and nothing makes a dent in it. I've tried more therapists than you can count and have been told that I cannot be helped. I've spent thousands on private healthcare and supplements to try and get any sort of assistance with my chronic health issues, and nothing alleviates my pain or exhaustion.
After I had invasive surgery a few months ago for a different health issue, I haven't been the same. A month into surgery recovery my fatigue and brainfog suddenly got worse and it was like I died inside completely and became incredibly emotionally numb. I almost didn't finish university because I was too dumb to complete my work and would spend hours in front of the computer meant to be writing my thesis but I couldn't because my head was completely empty and my memory was shit.
I have lost so much and there is truly no point in continuing. My mother abandoned me as a baby, alcoholic father died early in my childhood, abusive family members that I was still attached too died as well, my grandpa that loved me is dead, my grandmother who is my last relative that loves me is sick and approaching extremely old age, I am truly alone in this world. My health is gone, I have experienced incurable chronic fatigue for over 6 years now with 0 improvement in symptom reduction whatsoever, and I also have degenerative disc disease and chronic back pain as well as nerve issues. The health service witholds pain management from me and tells me to take paracetamol so I get no relief for my chronic pain at all.
I am *only* 24 everyone says, but I feel more like a geriatric old man. I have seen and lived through the type of things that some people go their whole lives without dealing with, and I'm beyond exhausted. I've been traumatized and degraded more times than I can even count, most of my life has been filled with abusive relationships including being groomed as a young teenager, being sexually assaulted, and raped. I've had symptoms of PTSD since I was 5 years old and got violated by a doctor.
I'm so messed up that I can't really have relationships and am doomed to be permanently alone and struggling, not only due to my PTSD but due to the fact that the chronic illness has made me utterly dull and insufferable, difficult to be around, and a complete drain. I am often completely silent, I'm tired all of the time, and can't keep up with how other people live. I don't even think I have the capacity to love anymore, and once you hit this stage there is no colour in life anymore, only bleakness and rot. I've been abandoned by most of the people I ever cared about, and my illness has orchestrated many of these losses.
On their own, some of my issues might seem surmountable, but combined, they are simply unbearable. People do not understand the anguish I go through, or they accuse me of being depressed and chalk it up to that. As a teenager, I was often depressed though, and I don't feel this way anymore, I had so many things I wanted to do and experience, so many hopes and dreams that were snuffed out by the devastation of my conditions.
I had a passion for research and trying to improve the broken healthcare industry, yet with my level of disability, I can never work in this field. I tried working in a hospital and academic lab and was constantly unable to perform to the level expected, falling asleep from exhaustion, and accused of laziness. When you have CFS though, everyone thinks you're a faker though and does not believe you are actually ill. Despite my PTSD, I actually wanted to become a doctor, but my PTSD is so severe I involuntarily get aroused by triggering things and it's absolutely disgusting and one of the things that's ruined my life completely and that no mental health "professional" could ever wrap their heads around.
I have nightmares about my failed dreams of becoming a doctor and clinical trials researcher frequently. Even if I were well though and my health miraculously improved, I don't have the money to afford a medical degree. At my university graduation, I had to choke back tears as many of my classmates walked across the stage and towards post-graduate medicine courses, while I had to sit with the knowledge that I will never be able to do anything and will become destitute if I don't ctb.
I will never marry or have children, and I will never have a career. There is just no point in living that way to me, it's pure misery. I've done several things I've always wanted to in the past few months, hoping that these impulsive splurges and decisions would improve my situation slightly, but they didn't. I always wanted to travel, and I got the chance to go to Japan and several Asian countries, yet I was completely miserable and in pain the entire time, trying to push through the fog, fatigue, and awful physical pain.
Before my illness got so bad, I studied languages a lot and got child-like proficiency in Japanese. When I was in Japan many locals complimented my language skills and told me I should come to Japan in the long term since my hobbies, interests, and mannerisms seem more suited towards living in Asia. I just wanted to cry, because if they knew the truth that I was a doomed cripple, they would never say those things. Truth be told, I would love to do those things, but I am not able. I wish I could read and write and make art and study and work, but instead I lay in bed most of my time, my head empty and my body burning with fever.
All my prospects in life are quickly drying up. There is a quote from Sylvia Plath, an author who ctb early in her life, about this that I often reflect on, I think many of us here can find it relatable:
"I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet."
When you can't have any of those figs, what even is life, except a futile exercise in merely existing? I honestly don't know why I'm still here, besides animalistic fear. I have gotten so close many times, but I can't bring myself to drink the salt. God, I wish I could though. I just want this to be over. I have spent many birthdays since I joined this forum, and nothing ever changes for the better. I wish I could even shed a tear, but I can't anymore. I wish I could be free instead of whining on here all the time like a broken record.