My mom threw my SN in the sink

[Notwinnernotawin]

That monster took the box from the mailman and threw it in the sink talking shit like I was betraying her. I hate her now and I don't know what to do. I can't work right now but my only way out f here is jumping from the river. It's scary and dirty but my only way out.

 

[Darkhaven]

Mine said that if i went to pick up mine, she would call the cops on me and send me to the psych ward.
I just told her i wouldn't pick it up, and then went for it while she was working...

 

[Ghost2211]

That is such an awful controlling manipulative show of power. I don't know why she would ever think that was the way to handle that, or what good could come of it.

 

[sadworld]

I'm sorry that his happened to you

My mom would do the same but I'm lucky that I got my SN without her noticing.

 

[Notwinnernotawin]

If I'm mad I may jump. Otherwise I'll get a job and move to get my SN without anyone ruining it.

 

[Gromit-CTB]

Sorry to hear this OP, people who are not suffering do not understand what we go through and why we need to feel the need to sneak around to get this. They wouldn't do it to a cancer patient getting meds they need. This world is just to sick for us to stay in it

 

[Steamm]

I understand your mother, she cares about you, mine did something similar but I was able to recover it.

 

[Gnip]

Because of my tendency to fight, I tend to try seeking solutions rather than simply offering words of encouragement. It's in my nature to try to help. Your mothers come across as being as outrageously intrusive as my father.

When I was 16 years old, I had to get my own post office box because my voyeuristic father would open and censure my teenage correspondence with the lying excuse, "Well, it had my name on it!" (Me thinking in reply, 'No asshole, you might have poisoned me with your first and last name, but I have a middle initial and additional middle name you do not, and that was on the envelope address along with the additional precaution of the fictitious suffix "Jr." added to that letter, which was in MY BEDROOM, on MY desk!')

Additionally, I obtained locks on my bedroom doors and inexpensive boxes and small pieces of furniture which locked so he couldn't get into my things. Labeling things as mine did not ever work with my father. Locks were effective in stopping him, as were secret compartments.

Unless it needs to be shipped to a home mailing address, I get it shipped or mailed to my post office box within walking distance of where I live, or pick it up at my local United Parcel Service office.

I don't know what mailing alternatives you have where you live which might prevent your mother from intercepting your orders, but renting my post office box was an extremely cheap solution to my asshole father invading my privacy. Today, I also have rented storage space for items I do not want him getting his hands on because of his despotic Fascist attitude that "Everything that comes into my house is mine!" (He's an absolute prick.)

Do you have a friend you can trust who you can have SN mailed to so your mother never knows or has a chance to get her hands on it before you do? Another option might be arranging some way you alone must sign for it so she can't take it from the mailman, a certified/registered mail order.

 

[LonelyDude15]

How do your guys' parents even know about any of this? If my parents even came in contact with SN. Which I would be very careful to make sure that they wouldn't, they wouldn't know what it is or what it's used for.

 

[Gromit-CTB]

How do your guys' parents even know about any of this? If my parents even came in contact with SN. Which I would be very careful to make sure that they wouldn't, they wouldn't know what it is or what it's used for.

Surely only curing meat

 

[LonelyDude15]

Surely only curing meat

I mean that's the only thing that comes up on Google

 

[Notwinnernotawin]

I told her I wanted to cook something. But shes smarter than that. Also I used her money so she felt like she had the right to do so. Still unfair.

How do your guys' parents even know about any of this? If my parents even came in contact with SN. Which I would be very careful to make sure that they wouldn't, they wouldn't know what it is or what it's used for.

 

[Nymph]

Sorry this happened to you, can't you reorder it and tell them to leave it at the post office or with a different person/hotel lobby/etc... so you can pick it up alone?

 

[Deleted member 1768]

That monster took the box from the mailman and threw it in the sink talking shit like I was betraying her. I hate her now and I don't know what to do. I can't work right now but my only way out f here is jumping from the river. It's scary and dirty but my only way out. I fully believe you, and many other young folk on here will take umbrage at my reply, but your mother is not a monster

That monster took the box from the mailman and threw it in the sink talking shit like I was betraying her. I hate her now and I don't know what to do. I can't work right now but my only way out f here is jumping from the river. It's scary and dirty but my only way out.

I expect many on here to take umbrage at what I am about to write, but I feel it is really necessary. I am a grandmother. My children are an extension of myself. When you give birth your child is paramount. Nothing is as important, as that little, helpless life. Years of practice at protecting the life of this innocent child cannot be removed from the psyche. On the contrary it grows, in my case exponentially. We watch, and worry through every fever, accident, interplay with others. No matter how old I get, or how old my children are that desire to preserve and maintain their lives, health and well-being remains. I am sorry hon., but what she showed is love.
She wants you to be there, to overcome the horror you find yourself faced with. No more than that. She cannot read your mind. Can never fully understand the burden you carry. Only you can know that. Even those who go through much the same as you, never get the full picture. They can't. You are unique in the world, we all are. Our needs are the same: shelter, food, clothing, etc., but from there the differences multiply. I see what your mother did as an act of love, not what I would have done, but I too am unique. You see my experiences are not yours. My conclusions therefore are different and so are yours and your moms.
I know how hard it is to get SN now, and I am truly sorry that she threw it out. Nor can I condone such behaviour, but the fact is that desperation makes people do all kinds of ridiculous things. That is one of the major reasons you read constant accounts of people who fail at suicide, and the equally constant voices telling others on here not to act impulsively. Sounds like your mother acted on impulse. Tossed it instead of communicating with you on what was going on to make you feel so bad. Hold fast Tired. Life is a roller coaster ride. Sometimes the universe smiles on our endeavours...other times not so much.
I presume that you now know not to have a private item sent straight to your door. There are many on here who fear an item will get chucked. Most have found a way around such issues. Suicide and its preparation take time, and planning. You have time...One thing about death there is no coming back. It is final. Even if you believe in reincarnation there is no memory of past lives...this is it. One life is all you get. So hon. cry right now if you need to. Lash out if that is necessary, but remember time does not stand still, and next time you can be better prepared.

 

[SHThrowAway213]

My husband at-the-time found mine back in January.
He emptied it down the toilet and threw the container at my head that bounced off me and hit the floor.
My dog went over and sniffed it, luckily did not lick it.
I'm still extremely mad at him for this.

 

[Gnip]

I expect many on here to take umbrage at what I am about to write, but I feel it is really necessary. I am a grandmother. My children are an extension of myself.

I will respond to this with what Kahlil Gibran wrote in "The Prophet"...:


Kahlil Gibran

On Children:

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

 

[Deleted member 1768]

I will respond to this with what Kahlil Gibran wrote in "The Prophet"...:


Kahlil Gibran

On Children:

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

I had forgotten these words. Wisdom. For the reminder and the perspective...thank you.

 

[Gnip]

I had forgotten these words. Wisdom. For the reminder and the perspective...thank you.

I originally read those words at the conclusion of the book, "Divorcing a Parent," by Beverly Engel.

 

[Deleted member 1768]

Wow. I have never read/heard of that one. I used Gibran as a template to bring up my children, and it may well have been the key to my behaviour when my son tried to kill himself. I will never know that for sure, but I am most happy to read the post, and expect to come back to read it often. I cannot use protonmail...not sure what I did to that account...duh...Tunnel vision makes life extremely interesting. Especially on the computer...smile.

 

[Gnip]

Wow. I have never read/heard of that one. I used Gibran as a template to bring up my children, and it may well have been the key to my behaviour when my son tried to kill himself. I will never know that for sure, but I am most happy to read the post, and expect to come back to read it often. I cannot use protonmail...not sure what I did to that account...duh...Tunnel vision makes life extremely interesting. Especially on the computer...smile.

My father's maternal grandparents immigrated from Al-Mishtaya (or as the street sign says in English, "Mishtayeh") in 1907 at a time when greater Syria enclose modern Israel, Palestine and Lebanon. Gibran resonated strongly with the first generation of that side of my family which was born in the United States, as the modern Lebanese border is closer to Al-Mishtaya (within walking distance) than my ancestral village is to the Mediterranean coast.

Some younger American born children of Syrian immigrants only bought Gibran's books for his sketches instead of actually reading what he wrote, or considering how it applied to themselves.


In the narcissistic minds of many Christian Syrian-Lebanese Americans I grew up around, their children are themselves, applying the rationale that they made their children, and often naming their children after themselves or other family members, stripping those children of their own independent identities. (I believe that it should be illegal for parents to name children after themselves, as children have a right to their own identities. My evil and abusive self hating father poisoned me with his name in a last moment change when I was born, a massive factor in destroying my life.)

Being permitted to exist and succeed or fail on my own merits was never an option. The most revealing thing my evil and stupid homicidal father ever said to me was, "I criticize you for faults I saw in myself when I was your age." In reality, I am nothing like my father, and never was, but in his own brain diseased mind, I am a reproduction of him.

"Your children are NOT you!" is what Gibran was howling, but stupid old men were only buying his books for the pictures, not reading how Gibran was saying, "Fuck tradition, Fuck the old ways, this is the 20th Century, get on with it!!!"


Deciding at age nine to never have a girlfriend, never get married and never have children was the best decision I ever made, as I slammed the door shut on advancing to another generation the self hating abuse my psychopathic elementary school principal father heaped on me with massive school psychologist support. (My father and almost my entire elementary and high school faculties should have gone to jail for what they did and allowed to be done to me. Schools have no right to exist anywhere.) If my parents had actually READ what Gibran had written in The Prophet before I was born, I would have never been named after my father (and wasn't supposed to be), and I might be happy and successful in life today like my younger twin brothers who were permitted their own identities.


Well, I am here at Sanctioned Suicide instead, researching and planning on doing for myself what was not ever done on my behalf in my entire life, the non disputably RIGHT thing, self administered euthanasia. I have the power to erase my name, and eradicate the allegation that I ever had that name by eradicating myself. (Jumping into a vat of molten metal at some steel mill might be ideal, as that could eradicate all physical traces of my mortal body and brain, Seeing that clip of another doing exactly that was inspirational. No "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," only "Flesh to steam" for a forever unknown person with not even a trace of DNA to examine.)