AnonymouslyBlue
Member
- Sep 29, 2019
- 57
The last time I asked for help my mom sent me to a psychologist who sided with everything my mom said and thought, barely did me any good because everything I said was pushed aside and made me feel insignificant with the emotions I was feeling due to my young age and lack of 'maturity towards such a situation'. It also created a rift between my parents and me, I guess having my mom find me on the bathroom floor was too much for her to bear and so the fights never ended, the days stretched into horrible months full of pain and misery for both / all of us affected by what I had done and the scars I had to walk around with.
I'd like to say that it's gotten better since I stopped going to those sessions and forced myself to get off antidepressants almost five years ago and in ways it has, my mom doesn't ever talk about what happened and no one ever brings it up. Least of all me but not because I don't want to talk about it because I'm scared that the fighting will start again and I won't be able to get the help I need. So I let it pass, didn't bring it up and didn't make any gestures towards how much those therapy sessions backfired. I let my mom believe that it did help, that the reason why I stopped what I was doing and stopped 'acting out' (her and the psychologist's words) was due to the medication and having a 'safe' space to talk about my feelings. Safe my fucking ass. The woman did more damage than anything else, but I won't tell my mom that.
I'm in a place now where I feel myself creeping closer and closer to going through all of that again, that I will do something stupid again and have my mom find me on the bathroom floor. My SO knows about me self mutilating almost every night now, my best friend is aware that I've started again and somewhere I think my mom knows it too or at least has an inkling that I'm spending so long in the bathroom not to enjoy a hot bath but to clean up after myself so she doesn't have to walk in on a bloody mess.
They all know I'm struggling to keep my head up, my SO is completely aware of my depression and wanting to CTB but it's like every time I bring it up with him he's there but the next day it's back to him and his day, his struggles and everything we had discussed the night before is forgotten. It's about him struggling to cope with what I said or what I've done and I have to be there for him, or at least that's how it feels when I talk to him after a bad night of panic attacks and asking him to be there for me because I'm scared I will act out if I'm not distracted. My friend is the same in a way, he's there in the moment I can't breathe right and impulsively add more marks to my body but come morning and it's like the discussion never happened. He never asks me how I am feeling, much like my SO. It's about them, and I hate saying it because it makes me seem selfish in a way, but I hate it. I hate that they don't ask even though they know. Does that make me a terrible person to feel that way? I feel like it does because fuck, I feel absolutely repulsed by myself for wanting that. I'm selfish. I feel selfish.
My mom doesn't know about my panic attacks and dark thoughts, but I do think that she knows something is wrong. I've been sleeping a lot more than I usually do and she did remark one day that maybe that is due to me being depressed. But whenever it comes to talking about how I'm dealing with what is going on and what has been going on over the past few years the conversation lasts for a few minutes before she gets snappy, blunt and changes the subject to talk about her worries about my brother and how he is in school, about my stepdad and his father. About her plans for the company and how she's uncertain about the future and all traces of talking about me vanishes. I keep quiet and I let the conversation divert but sometimes I just want to shout at her that for once, just once could she shut up and listen to me? Give me a chance to pluck up the courage and ask for help? But then I think about it and I guess I never will ask for it because I'm so scared it will just end in a shit show once again. It's happened twice, the first when my grandma passed almost nine years ago, and then again when we moved to Dubai, so who's to say it won't happen again?
How do I even ask for help without sounding selfish? Ask people who act like nothing is wrong only a few hours after I confess my fears and ugly truths of what I am doing to myself and why it feels like the only way to cope with what is happening and what has happened?
I feel so alone. If I can't ask for help, then my next course of action (and the one I am taking right now) is to do this alone. But as my SO bluntly put it, that will only end with me six feet underground with a lot of confused and angry people standing over the grave.
At this point, the idea of CTB is so numb to me that I'm just like fuck it if I do it then that's that. No note, no explanation because they don't listen now why would they listen when I'm gone? I want help, I don't want to end my life just yet but it's at a point where it feels like the only way to really grab anyone's attention is to do something serious, something that will land with me in the hospital but then again, we don't have money for it. I'll be taking so much from my mom that I will be branded a selfish bitch, I know it because that is what happened last time.
But damn, it's tempting.
How do I ask for help when I'm not even sure it's what I want from the people around me?
I'd like to say that it's gotten better since I stopped going to those sessions and forced myself to get off antidepressants almost five years ago and in ways it has, my mom doesn't ever talk about what happened and no one ever brings it up. Least of all me but not because I don't want to talk about it because I'm scared that the fighting will start again and I won't be able to get the help I need. So I let it pass, didn't bring it up and didn't make any gestures towards how much those therapy sessions backfired. I let my mom believe that it did help, that the reason why I stopped what I was doing and stopped 'acting out' (her and the psychologist's words) was due to the medication and having a 'safe' space to talk about my feelings. Safe my fucking ass. The woman did more damage than anything else, but I won't tell my mom that.
I'm in a place now where I feel myself creeping closer and closer to going through all of that again, that I will do something stupid again and have my mom find me on the bathroom floor. My SO knows about me self mutilating almost every night now, my best friend is aware that I've started again and somewhere I think my mom knows it too or at least has an inkling that I'm spending so long in the bathroom not to enjoy a hot bath but to clean up after myself so she doesn't have to walk in on a bloody mess.
They all know I'm struggling to keep my head up, my SO is completely aware of my depression and wanting to CTB but it's like every time I bring it up with him he's there but the next day it's back to him and his day, his struggles and everything we had discussed the night before is forgotten. It's about him struggling to cope with what I said or what I've done and I have to be there for him, or at least that's how it feels when I talk to him after a bad night of panic attacks and asking him to be there for me because I'm scared I will act out if I'm not distracted. My friend is the same in a way, he's there in the moment I can't breathe right and impulsively add more marks to my body but come morning and it's like the discussion never happened. He never asks me how I am feeling, much like my SO. It's about them, and I hate saying it because it makes me seem selfish in a way, but I hate it. I hate that they don't ask even though they know. Does that make me a terrible person to feel that way? I feel like it does because fuck, I feel absolutely repulsed by myself for wanting that. I'm selfish. I feel selfish.
My mom doesn't know about my panic attacks and dark thoughts, but I do think that she knows something is wrong. I've been sleeping a lot more than I usually do and she did remark one day that maybe that is due to me being depressed. But whenever it comes to talking about how I'm dealing with what is going on and what has been going on over the past few years the conversation lasts for a few minutes before she gets snappy, blunt and changes the subject to talk about her worries about my brother and how he is in school, about my stepdad and his father. About her plans for the company and how she's uncertain about the future and all traces of talking about me vanishes. I keep quiet and I let the conversation divert but sometimes I just want to shout at her that for once, just once could she shut up and listen to me? Give me a chance to pluck up the courage and ask for help? But then I think about it and I guess I never will ask for it because I'm so scared it will just end in a shit show once again. It's happened twice, the first when my grandma passed almost nine years ago, and then again when we moved to Dubai, so who's to say it won't happen again?
How do I even ask for help without sounding selfish? Ask people who act like nothing is wrong only a few hours after I confess my fears and ugly truths of what I am doing to myself and why it feels like the only way to cope with what is happening and what has happened?
I feel so alone. If I can't ask for help, then my next course of action (and the one I am taking right now) is to do this alone. But as my SO bluntly put it, that will only end with me six feet underground with a lot of confused and angry people standing over the grave.
At this point, the idea of CTB is so numb to me that I'm just like fuck it if I do it then that's that. No note, no explanation because they don't listen now why would they listen when I'm gone? I want help, I don't want to end my life just yet but it's at a point where it feels like the only way to really grab anyone's attention is to do something serious, something that will land with me in the hospital but then again, we don't have money for it. I'll be taking so much from my mom that I will be branded a selfish bitch, I know it because that is what happened last time.
But damn, it's tempting.
How do I ask for help when I'm not even sure it's what I want from the people around me?
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