I'm writing this on July 25, 2025. It's a long read, and if you're like me and don't enjoy long reads, try using Microsoft Edge's "Read Aloud" text-to-speech tool to listen while you go about your day—or don't. It's fine; it's long and boring anyway. This will likely feel disjointed and veer into random directions. I'm not a good writer or storyteller.
My birthday was a few days ago. I'm in my 40s now, and I've started relapsing down a dark path of suicidal thinking—something I've struggled with since childhood. For the last few days, I've had trouble sleeping because I can't stop thinking about hanging myself. It's 3 a.m. as I write this, and I should be in bed. I'll likely wake up late for work because of it. Hanging is my ideal way to go out, by the way, since im very ignorant of other more peaceful or safe methods. Due to my life experiences Ive familiar with hand-to-hand combat and trained in MMA for 10 years, so ive been choked out a few times and passed out. It hurts just for like 4-6 seconds then its black out. I own guns, but I don't want to leave a mess for others to clean up. I'm suicidal, not inconsiderate. I also strongly believe in karma and would never harm another person on my way to CTB.
I'm usually never depressed or suicidal in the summertime—it's my favorite season. But I've been depressed my entire life. I had a very rough childhood, and this year's birthday made me ask myself again: *Why am I still here?* It's the same question I asked as a child after brutal beatings from my parents, hiding and cowering under my bed in fear. With tears streaming down my face I prayed to God often as a child, begging to know why I was punished with this life and these mentally and physically abusive parents. God never listened, so I stopped talking to Him in childhood. I no longer believe in God, at least not the one I once knew. Now, I believe in infinity—that this life is one of infinite lives. Even all the lives on this forum feel like different versions of me across time and space. But despite that belief, my ego always drags me back to Earth, trapping me in this individual pain and sadness. I can't overcome my ego. I have no tears left; I cried them all out in my 20s. Now, there's only numbness and emptiness. Ironically, it hurts even more.
Let me tell you about my childhood and why I grew up a pessimist. Pessimism is poison. It corrodes the soul and body, and I let it consume me for most of my life. My parents are the source of all my childhood misery. As first-generation Asian Americans and immigrants from a developing country, their punishments were brutal and fueled by ignorance. When I was 3 or 4 years old—an age when most don't retain memories—they rubbed tiger balm into my eyes and locked me in a dark room. Why? it was punishment, My dad caught fish and stored them in the bathtub; I was told not to touch them but did anyway. Many beatings were over minor disobedience—like playing in mud. The violence bordered on torture, lasting hours with breaks for verbal abuse: *"Useless," "You'll never amount to anything," "I wish I'd aborted you," "You're nothing but an animal," "You demon/monster."* After such beatings, I couldn't move the next day. This continued until my teens, when I could finally overpower my mom and my dad backed off. Then, it became purely mental abuse. Even now in my 40s, my mom still calls me a "worthless piece of shit."
I'm autistic, by the way. I experience severe sensory overload: unfamiliar noises drive me crazy, smells overwhelm me (I avoid deodorant and scented hygiene products because of it), and lukewarm water feels scalding. I have no friends because my autism makes me impulsive—I say and do things that offend or hurt others. If you looked up the definition of autism, I'd match it verbatim. Some autistic people maintain relationships, but I'm on a different spectrum. Friendships and romance bring overwhelming stress, triggering mental breakdowns, so I've lived like a hermit most of my life.
I also have hyperhidrosis, a condition causing constant sweating everywhere—even in subzero temperatures or lying in bed. I sweat while resting like running a marathon. This destroyed my confidence; I'm disgusted by my own body and avoid touching things and people. Ive gone through many game console controllers and PC mouses due to my sweat soaking into them. Trust me, it disgusts me as much as it does you.
At 17, I joined the military to escape my family. It was a terrible idea. My autism clashed with military life, creating a recipe for disaster; indeed it was and did. I needed parental consent since I was under 18. My autism made bonding with my unit impossible. I quickly stood out as the black sheep, and in infantry culture, that's dangerous; the military infantry unit operates much like a street gang and you never want to be NOT part of the gang. I was singled out and bullied. As a "pretty boy" Asian man, I was constantly sexually assaulted, four times during my almost 4 years contract in the military, by gay men. It confused me and made me extremely paranoid and a recluse. I learned only later that gay men fetishize hairless, youthful Asian features. This pushed me deeper into isolation. I could not tell anyone, it was taboo to be sexually assualted and these cases are not treated with any degree of seriousness. In male culture, its just "suck it up, and move on". I was never penetrated, but the attacks were vicious enough to leave me traumatized. I escaped each time barely by the skin of my teeth from fighting with all my strength, and it was always huge men that attacked me. Men always prey on the weak and I was a small 130 pound dude, most western women outweigh me.
Then came the breaking point: My platoon sergeant forgot to set up radio guard, causing an 8-hour communications blackout during a patrol in Afghanistan. The company panicked, thinking we'd been killed. As the black sheep, my platoon scapegoated me. All the blame fell onto me and I was court martialed. Busted down a rank, and fined 5000 dollars. In military culture the 'lifers/career officers or staffers' will always throw the low rankers under to bus to save their careers, the military is a dog eat dog world and not the brotherhood you're led to believe. The betrayal shattered me. To this day, I have PTSD from it. So to fight against this injustice I put an M-16 to my head as a cry for help. I couldn't pull the trigger, but I refused to serve alongside traitors. The military dishonorably discharged me just 4 months shy of an honorable 4-year contract. My record was stained with "Reason for Discharge: Personality Disorder"—not "Honorable." I felt like a felon. Job applications mentioning my military service brought shame, and I lost many job opportunities. Everytime I file a job application I hang my head and shame and anger at those 4 years. In Asian culture, honor is everything. The disgrace was unbearable.
Head hung low, I crawled back to my parents, another slap in the face. I lied about my discharge, claiming I'd served honorably. I couldn't face their judgment and the shame of it all. Now, I'm an adult son living with them, gaming all day to escape suicidal thoughts. For years, I jumped between jobs, too depressed and unmotivated to hold onto them. Money meant nothing—I assumed tomorrow would be my last as every night i stare death in the eyes. A part of me died in Afghanistan. I should've pulled that trigger. My biological drive keeps me breathing, but my mind runs on fumes.
It's been years since 2006—I'm "old as fuck" in my 40s. I should have a career and pension, but trauma poisoned me. I can't hold a job. Still living with my parents, I've given up on life. They own a farm, and for the past decade, I've worked part-time as a farmhand for below minimum wage. Why find a real job? when death stares at me daily. I'm a wreck—defeated yet still here. Why? No idea. I'm all cried out; sadness just sits as numbness. My life is a train wreck, and I hate myself for burdening others. My five siblings are wildly successful—great careers, and own businesses—but my family despises me. They see a pathetic failure, talk behind my back, and look at me contemptuously. I hear the whispers and rumors, im not deaf. They haven't walked in my shoes, they dont know. My oldest brother makes $200K in tech, has a picture perfect life: degree, marriage, kids, big house, friends who adore him. I'm convinced my life is the anus of the universe.
As a final "screw you" to my parents—some would call it selfish—I plan to hang myself on their front porch. They're extremely superstitious and believe in ghosts; it'd haunt them, forcing them to sell the house and flee.
I don't need encouragement or platitudes like "Don't do it!" I'm here to share my misery and soak in yours. I know my path ends with the noose I've made; it's only a matter of when. I've had a long, unfulfilling life. I've traveled the world, and I'm over it. I refuse to die of old age, a house fire, lightning, or a robbery. I'll go out by my own hand, on my terms.
This is an extremely condensed version of my life. I have a journal that could stretch half a book or more with more details and events.
I just wanted to share this as you all share yours, this is how people deal with their struggles. Tonight I was very close to hanging myself as I stood looking up at the porch rafters with my noose in hand, but its not time yet it seems unfortunately. One day I will have the courage to complete what I started as a child. Those world is not for me, I need to leave, and Im begging to leave but something holds me here.
I didnt think it right to post this in the "recovery" section, as I am not recovering.
EDit: I am 'enjoying' reading what everyone is sharing. Thank you for sharing, you are the family I never had...and the closest to kin i'll ever have. Nobody understands our struggles more.
My birthday was a few days ago. I'm in my 40s now, and I've started relapsing down a dark path of suicidal thinking—something I've struggled with since childhood. For the last few days, I've had trouble sleeping because I can't stop thinking about hanging myself. It's 3 a.m. as I write this, and I should be in bed. I'll likely wake up late for work because of it. Hanging is my ideal way to go out, by the way, since im very ignorant of other more peaceful or safe methods. Due to my life experiences Ive familiar with hand-to-hand combat and trained in MMA for 10 years, so ive been choked out a few times and passed out. It hurts just for like 4-6 seconds then its black out. I own guns, but I don't want to leave a mess for others to clean up. I'm suicidal, not inconsiderate. I also strongly believe in karma and would never harm another person on my way to CTB.
I'm usually never depressed or suicidal in the summertime—it's my favorite season. But I've been depressed my entire life. I had a very rough childhood, and this year's birthday made me ask myself again: *Why am I still here?* It's the same question I asked as a child after brutal beatings from my parents, hiding and cowering under my bed in fear. With tears streaming down my face I prayed to God often as a child, begging to know why I was punished with this life and these mentally and physically abusive parents. God never listened, so I stopped talking to Him in childhood. I no longer believe in God, at least not the one I once knew. Now, I believe in infinity—that this life is one of infinite lives. Even all the lives on this forum feel like different versions of me across time and space. But despite that belief, my ego always drags me back to Earth, trapping me in this individual pain and sadness. I can't overcome my ego. I have no tears left; I cried them all out in my 20s. Now, there's only numbness and emptiness. Ironically, it hurts even more.
Let me tell you about my childhood and why I grew up a pessimist. Pessimism is poison. It corrodes the soul and body, and I let it consume me for most of my life. My parents are the source of all my childhood misery. As first-generation Asian Americans and immigrants from a developing country, their punishments were brutal and fueled by ignorance. When I was 3 or 4 years old—an age when most don't retain memories—they rubbed tiger balm into my eyes and locked me in a dark room. Why? it was punishment, My dad caught fish and stored them in the bathtub; I was told not to touch them but did anyway. Many beatings were over minor disobedience—like playing in mud. The violence bordered on torture, lasting hours with breaks for verbal abuse: *"Useless," "You'll never amount to anything," "I wish I'd aborted you," "You're nothing but an animal," "You demon/monster."* After such beatings, I couldn't move the next day. This continued until my teens, when I could finally overpower my mom and my dad backed off. Then, it became purely mental abuse. Even now in my 40s, my mom still calls me a "worthless piece of shit."
I'm autistic, by the way. I experience severe sensory overload: unfamiliar noises drive me crazy, smells overwhelm me (I avoid deodorant and scented hygiene products because of it), and lukewarm water feels scalding. I have no friends because my autism makes me impulsive—I say and do things that offend or hurt others. If you looked up the definition of autism, I'd match it verbatim. Some autistic people maintain relationships, but I'm on a different spectrum. Friendships and romance bring overwhelming stress, triggering mental breakdowns, so I've lived like a hermit most of my life.
I also have hyperhidrosis, a condition causing constant sweating everywhere—even in subzero temperatures or lying in bed. I sweat while resting like running a marathon. This destroyed my confidence; I'm disgusted by my own body and avoid touching things and people. Ive gone through many game console controllers and PC mouses due to my sweat soaking into them. Trust me, it disgusts me as much as it does you.
At 17, I joined the military to escape my family. It was a terrible idea. My autism clashed with military life, creating a recipe for disaster; indeed it was and did. I needed parental consent since I was under 18. My autism made bonding with my unit impossible. I quickly stood out as the black sheep, and in infantry culture, that's dangerous; the military infantry unit operates much like a street gang and you never want to be NOT part of the gang. I was singled out and bullied. As a "pretty boy" Asian man, I was constantly sexually assaulted, four times during my almost 4 years contract in the military, by gay men. It confused me and made me extremely paranoid and a recluse. I learned only later that gay men fetishize hairless, youthful Asian features. This pushed me deeper into isolation. I could not tell anyone, it was taboo to be sexually assualted and these cases are not treated with any degree of seriousness. In male culture, its just "suck it up, and move on". I was never penetrated, but the attacks were vicious enough to leave me traumatized. I escaped each time barely by the skin of my teeth from fighting with all my strength, and it was always huge men that attacked me. Men always prey on the weak and I was a small 130 pound dude, most western women outweigh me.
Then came the breaking point: My platoon sergeant forgot to set up radio guard, causing an 8-hour communications blackout during a patrol in Afghanistan. The company panicked, thinking we'd been killed. As the black sheep, my platoon scapegoated me. All the blame fell onto me and I was court martialed. Busted down a rank, and fined 5000 dollars. In military culture the 'lifers/career officers or staffers' will always throw the low rankers under to bus to save their careers, the military is a dog eat dog world and not the brotherhood you're led to believe. The betrayal shattered me. To this day, I have PTSD from it. So to fight against this injustice I put an M-16 to my head as a cry for help. I couldn't pull the trigger, but I refused to serve alongside traitors. The military dishonorably discharged me just 4 months shy of an honorable 4-year contract. My record was stained with "Reason for Discharge: Personality Disorder"—not "Honorable." I felt like a felon. Job applications mentioning my military service brought shame, and I lost many job opportunities. Everytime I file a job application I hang my head and shame and anger at those 4 years. In Asian culture, honor is everything. The disgrace was unbearable.
Head hung low, I crawled back to my parents, another slap in the face. I lied about my discharge, claiming I'd served honorably. I couldn't face their judgment and the shame of it all. Now, I'm an adult son living with them, gaming all day to escape suicidal thoughts. For years, I jumped between jobs, too depressed and unmotivated to hold onto them. Money meant nothing—I assumed tomorrow would be my last as every night i stare death in the eyes. A part of me died in Afghanistan. I should've pulled that trigger. My biological drive keeps me breathing, but my mind runs on fumes.
It's been years since 2006—I'm "old as fuck" in my 40s. I should have a career and pension, but trauma poisoned me. I can't hold a job. Still living with my parents, I've given up on life. They own a farm, and for the past decade, I've worked part-time as a farmhand for below minimum wage. Why find a real job? when death stares at me daily. I'm a wreck—defeated yet still here. Why? No idea. I'm all cried out; sadness just sits as numbness. My life is a train wreck, and I hate myself for burdening others. My five siblings are wildly successful—great careers, and own businesses—but my family despises me. They see a pathetic failure, talk behind my back, and look at me contemptuously. I hear the whispers and rumors, im not deaf. They haven't walked in my shoes, they dont know. My oldest brother makes $200K in tech, has a picture perfect life: degree, marriage, kids, big house, friends who adore him. I'm convinced my life is the anus of the universe.
As a final "screw you" to my parents—some would call it selfish—I plan to hang myself on their front porch. They're extremely superstitious and believe in ghosts; it'd haunt them, forcing them to sell the house and flee.
I don't need encouragement or platitudes like "Don't do it!" I'm here to share my misery and soak in yours. I know my path ends with the noose I've made; it's only a matter of when. I've had a long, unfulfilling life. I've traveled the world, and I'm over it. I refuse to die of old age, a house fire, lightning, or a robbery. I'll go out by my own hand, on my terms.
This is an extremely condensed version of my life. I have a journal that could stretch half a book or more with more details and events.
I just wanted to share this as you all share yours, this is how people deal with their struggles. Tonight I was very close to hanging myself as I stood looking up at the porch rafters with my noose in hand, but its not time yet it seems unfortunately. One day I will have the courage to complete what I started as a child. Those world is not for me, I need to leave, and Im begging to leave but something holds me here.
I didnt think it right to post this in the "recovery" section, as I am not recovering.
EDit: I am 'enjoying' reading what everyone is sharing. Thank you for sharing, you are the family I never had...and the closest to kin i'll ever have. Nobody understands our struggles more.
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