I don't even know why I'm bothering to write this because I have given up on everything in such a profound manner, but maybe someone out there will care about my story.
My life is such an unendurable nightmare that it almost feels like some kind of personal, tailor-made simulation designed specifically to torment me.
I moved to Australia with my family from New Zealand about 9 years ago. My life in New Zealand, compared to this at least, was a paradigm of blissfulness -- I had a job, a creative outlet (as a writer), friends, girlfriends, a stable and happy home. I got on well with my parents and siblings and led some kind of independent existence. This is the happiness and image of life/myself that I cling to so desperately.
Comparatively, things in Australia very quickly deteriorated. The first (and major) problem was that our house was just too small/claustrophobic -- I have a severe noise sensitivity and this sent me into a state of hypervigilance, because I was suddenly confined to a small space with 4 other busy people. I had always been someone who was intellectual/introverted and enjoyed more quiet pursuits like reading, watching movies etc., but doing any of this became almost impossible at home. Additionally, I had experienced a strong onset of fatigue after moving which prevented me from getting a job, so that only compounded the problem because I was trapped in the house most of the day, but had few meaningful ways to spend my time while my family were all home. I never got to establish a life or existence here, never got a job, never made many friends etc.
While I was okay for a few years living like this, after about 5 years, I just couldn't endure it anymore. In addition to the fact that I couldn't really function at home, my mother is a raging narcissist and while this was less of an issue in New Zealand, she began to bully me in Australia for being unable to function (I suppose because I was no longer a source of pride for her). One day, I got so distraught and fed up with our living situation that I lay in bed helplessly for the day and refused to eat, so she ended up calling the cops and trying to have me forcibly hospitalized, which permanently traumatized me and left me feeling completely unsafe in my room from then on.
After being dumped by my psychiatrist because I was treatment-resistant, I kind of just gave up and became a lot more impulsive/reckless and began abusing prescription meds, doing anything I could to sleep the day away, using stimulants to stay up at night etc. I would force myself to go out as much as I could because home was so uncomfortable and not a 'safe place'. Sadly, what I didn't know at the time is that I in fact had chronic fatigue syndrome, and by pushing through my fatigue (which I thought was depression), I was in fact causing extreme damage to myself.
After living this way for about 2 years, I became very sick suddenly and my condition deteriorated into the 'severe' category. For anyone vaguely familiar with CFS, the most damaging thing you can do is to not pace yourself and push through the crashes, and so the stupid lifestyle I had led likely permanently damaged me. Thereafter, I was a true prisoner because now I was stuck in the same awful abusive living situation with almost no autonomy over my physical state and wellbeing. In addition, everything (noise etc.) would affect me physically and trigger a crash, so I was basically just left in a constant survival state around my family, having to please them because anything they did could have a devastating effect on me. At first, I was able to create some meaning out of this new dilemma -- I joined discord and made a lot of friends, fell in love with a girl who I would speak to on the phone. I could still do some stuff like watch TV late at night. But I always felt like a ghost or onlooker at other people's lives, knowing fundamentally that I was now trapped in this situation and wouldn't get out because I had become too sick for any kind of medical intervention and would be unable to move anywhere else or take care of myself. Additionally, it was still the same abusive/hypervigilant living environment, so I was never able to rest or properly take care of myself. I yearned so, so deeply for that sense of safeness/security that other people seemed to take for granted. What's more, I slowly lost more and more of the simple joys in life -- the ability to take warm showers, tolerate foods, eventually unable to watch TV etc. And also had to still make it through an entire day living around my family with few effective ways to fill my time, other than to just endure the distress.
To add to the nightmare, my mother even opened a daycare center at home, so now I had to find ways to try and sleep/cope with screaming children being around all afternoon. There is a point about a year ago where I deteriorated so far physically that I could not stand for more than 5 or 10 minutes. Of course, she screamed at me to get out of bed. If I had left things at that point, I likely would have died, but a friend online suggested trying hydrocortisone because it was likely that my body was simply not producing enough cortisol anymore. At first, it was miraculous -- I regained a significant amount of energy and was able to do things around the house again (effectively 'saving' my own life). But after about a year, it started having less and less effect (though was likely still keeping me alive). My parents took it for granted that I was able to function in such a severe disease state and basically just left me to my own devices, but after my condition deteriorated again a few months ago, I confessed to them what I had been doing. My father became enraged -- blaming me for recklessly using a steroid without medical advice (even though my doctor never offered any solutions). He has always despised me on some level, but alongside my mother will constantly nitpick at everything I do. I've lost a lot of weight and become intolerant to nearly every food, and they constantly blame that as the reason I am so sick (without realizing how much damage this living environment has done to me).
Because I lost even further functioning a while ago, but still had to figure out ways to sleep (because I can effectively die if confronted with too much stress), I became dependent on benzos, which are having less and less benefit and have sapped the last fragments of happiness and cognitive functioning I had left (like the ability to listen to music, podcasts etc.). I also took an overdose out of desperation and ended up trapped in a psych ward for 24 hours, which was awful with my physical condition. I convinced them to let me out, but this led to my parents even further monitoring every aspect of my life. They are trying to force me to eat foods I can't tolerate, giving me ultimatums about living here like having to see a psychologist (which would be almost impossible because I can barely survive in my own household, let alone attend medical appointments etc.).
I have to follow an extremely specific routine everyday designed around my family in order to literally stay alive. But now due my cognitive deterioration the time when I am away from them, late at night, is spent doing literally nothing other than lying in the darkness, waiting for the next day. I spend this time engaging in this rich, multi-faceted, tormenting fantasies about how my life could have gone if I had gotten away from them, and the self-care practices I would have implemented while living with my disease because it's like now I've been granted the knowledge of a diagnosis and how the condition should be managed and the opportunities out there when it's just too late. The most painful and tormenting crux of my existence is having to realize that, as a way to cope with living at home, I in fact caused myself irreparable physical damage and just kept myself trapped here, whereas getting out earlier would have literally meant the difference between life and death. I tried, tried so desperately to leave but since I was not a citizen, I never qualified for any kind of social assistance; I reached out to other family here but was rejected. And I watch my family living their lives -- going out, working etc. with such a profound sense of disgust; it's like all these hours I must now spend alone in the darkness are some kind of spiritual punishment I have to endure for their mistakes. And they continually gaslight me, blame me for my illness etc. They have total control over my existence because the minute I lost functioning, they would just dump me in hospital (where I'd probably be killed due to medical/psychiatric abuse). I notice that as soon as I leave the house and am not around them, my entire physical state just relaxes and I am now aware how damaging 8 years of constant hypervigilance must have been.
I feel like the lowest form of garbage on earth, because I don't get to experience anything a human being should -- social contact, friendship etc.As someone artistic who cherished so much about this world, I cry realizing I now don't get to access anything -- music, TV shows, movies etc. -- anymore. I'm not entitled to real medical treatment. I'm in a disease state where I'm theoretically dying but am also left to completely take care of myself.
And everyone, especially at home, thinks all I do is sit around lazily, doing nothing, not realizing that literally all I am doing is trying to survive and make it to the next day for no real gain. I don't even hate myself enough to want to die -- I'm attractive, intelligent, used to be funny and well-liked etc. Sometimes I will go out to doctor's appointments etc. and this glimpse of the 'outside' world I get is so haunting and painful because it's like I no longer belong or get to be a part of it; I feel like some weird hostage. I'll interact with Uber drives etc. and try to appear normal, knowing that once I go home again I'll just disintegrate into the same corpse.
I'm reminded of a Sylvia Plath quote: 'Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing.' It's like being so completely removed from life makes me simultaneously yearn for everything it holds, and in my fantasies I've created this parallel life of how things *should* have gone that I find it impossible to let go of, because I blame myself now for compromising every value I held dear (like looking after my health etc.) and can't accept that this wasn't really my fault.
I know people die and that the universe isn't fair, but it also feels unfair that I did not have to get this sick and reaching this point was completely preventable in theory. I was not suddenly stricken down by some cruel disease. My life was robbed from me (on every single level) by circumstances beyond my control, but I blame myself 24/7 for not saving myself.
My survival instinct is so strong and engrained because literally all I am doing is surviving all day, but at the same time, I'm living in a complete void and it's hard to accept all of this effort is just for nothing. If I had an impulsive method or a pill I could just take before bed,, maybe I would be gone now, but I have SN and even planning to attempt with that in my living conditions is nearly impossible, but I'm also deluding myself, knowing that I don't want to die. It seems like such an unfair trade-off -- to experience nothing after ... well, experiencing nothing for 4 years. There's no contentment in the idea for me.
I constantly doubt myself (I guess due to the family abuse) and tell myself this is my fault, none of my goals/ambitions/desires matter anyway. But suicide goes so against my own personal values that the idea of having to throw my life away at the expense of others is really sickening. I'm not someone who ever gave up (and, honestly, most people would be long dead after what I've been through) and I feel so angry that there is so much out there I could theoretically try for my anxiety/depression etc. if I was still in a milder/moderate disease state but no longer can. I feel like I failed myself and it's almost impossible to let go of life, seeing all this *possibility* out there that I just never explored or got to explore.
I'm just so sad and heartbroken; I know I have to let go eventually, even though I keep bargaining with myself (I ran out of benzos today, so promised myself it would have to be tomorrow, but I managed to get some from my doctor, and of course I'll panic again in a week when I run out). However, maybe a massive dose of Valium before SN will put me in enough of a stupor that I don't care about attempting anymore. It's just so fucking stupid and awful, and maybe I sound self-centered, but I can't imagine a worse possible set of circumstances created for someone who deep deep down wants to live (I think I just don't have suicide 'in me' at all). I'm trapped on literally every single level a person can be trapped. And now after being robbed of every form of safety (internal/external) all I want is to go back to a 'normal' life -- because all the things I guess 'normal' people take for granted feel so profoundly amplified now. I would give anything just to lie down in a bed and fall asleep normally or watch a TV show or play a video game or talk to a friend on the phone.
Anyway, I'm sorry this is so long. Again, I feel like writing about it or expressing it gives me some 'control' over the circumstances but it doesn't. I'm fucked. And tonight I'll spend hours in the darkness again entertaining my fantasies, then wake up in the same nightmare tomorrow expecting something to be different. I'm so, so sick of it.
My life is such an unendurable nightmare that it almost feels like some kind of personal, tailor-made simulation designed specifically to torment me.
I moved to Australia with my family from New Zealand about 9 years ago. My life in New Zealand, compared to this at least, was a paradigm of blissfulness -- I had a job, a creative outlet (as a writer), friends, girlfriends, a stable and happy home. I got on well with my parents and siblings and led some kind of independent existence. This is the happiness and image of life/myself that I cling to so desperately.
Comparatively, things in Australia very quickly deteriorated. The first (and major) problem was that our house was just too small/claustrophobic -- I have a severe noise sensitivity and this sent me into a state of hypervigilance, because I was suddenly confined to a small space with 4 other busy people. I had always been someone who was intellectual/introverted and enjoyed more quiet pursuits like reading, watching movies etc., but doing any of this became almost impossible at home. Additionally, I had experienced a strong onset of fatigue after moving which prevented me from getting a job, so that only compounded the problem because I was trapped in the house most of the day, but had few meaningful ways to spend my time while my family were all home. I never got to establish a life or existence here, never got a job, never made many friends etc.
While I was okay for a few years living like this, after about 5 years, I just couldn't endure it anymore. In addition to the fact that I couldn't really function at home, my mother is a raging narcissist and while this was less of an issue in New Zealand, she began to bully me in Australia for being unable to function (I suppose because I was no longer a source of pride for her). One day, I got so distraught and fed up with our living situation that I lay in bed helplessly for the day and refused to eat, so she ended up calling the cops and trying to have me forcibly hospitalized, which permanently traumatized me and left me feeling completely unsafe in my room from then on.
After being dumped by my psychiatrist because I was treatment-resistant, I kind of just gave up and became a lot more impulsive/reckless and began abusing prescription meds, doing anything I could to sleep the day away, using stimulants to stay up at night etc. I would force myself to go out as much as I could because home was so uncomfortable and not a 'safe place'. Sadly, what I didn't know at the time is that I in fact had chronic fatigue syndrome, and by pushing through my fatigue (which I thought was depression), I was in fact causing extreme damage to myself.
After living this way for about 2 years, I became very sick suddenly and my condition deteriorated into the 'severe' category. For anyone vaguely familiar with CFS, the most damaging thing you can do is to not pace yourself and push through the crashes, and so the stupid lifestyle I had led likely permanently damaged me. Thereafter, I was a true prisoner because now I was stuck in the same awful abusive living situation with almost no autonomy over my physical state and wellbeing. In addition, everything (noise etc.) would affect me physically and trigger a crash, so I was basically just left in a constant survival state around my family, having to please them because anything they did could have a devastating effect on me. At first, I was able to create some meaning out of this new dilemma -- I joined discord and made a lot of friends, fell in love with a girl who I would speak to on the phone. I could still do some stuff like watch TV late at night. But I always felt like a ghost or onlooker at other people's lives, knowing fundamentally that I was now trapped in this situation and wouldn't get out because I had become too sick for any kind of medical intervention and would be unable to move anywhere else or take care of myself. Additionally, it was still the same abusive/hypervigilant living environment, so I was never able to rest or properly take care of myself. I yearned so, so deeply for that sense of safeness/security that other people seemed to take for granted. What's more, I slowly lost more and more of the simple joys in life -- the ability to take warm showers, tolerate foods, eventually unable to watch TV etc. And also had to still make it through an entire day living around my family with few effective ways to fill my time, other than to just endure the distress.
To add to the nightmare, my mother even opened a daycare center at home, so now I had to find ways to try and sleep/cope with screaming children being around all afternoon. There is a point about a year ago where I deteriorated so far physically that I could not stand for more than 5 or 10 minutes. Of course, she screamed at me to get out of bed. If I had left things at that point, I likely would have died, but a friend online suggested trying hydrocortisone because it was likely that my body was simply not producing enough cortisol anymore. At first, it was miraculous -- I regained a significant amount of energy and was able to do things around the house again (effectively 'saving' my own life). But after about a year, it started having less and less effect (though was likely still keeping me alive). My parents took it for granted that I was able to function in such a severe disease state and basically just left me to my own devices, but after my condition deteriorated again a few months ago, I confessed to them what I had been doing. My father became enraged -- blaming me for recklessly using a steroid without medical advice (even though my doctor never offered any solutions). He has always despised me on some level, but alongside my mother will constantly nitpick at everything I do. I've lost a lot of weight and become intolerant to nearly every food, and they constantly blame that as the reason I am so sick (without realizing how much damage this living environment has done to me).
Because I lost even further functioning a while ago, but still had to figure out ways to sleep (because I can effectively die if confronted with too much stress), I became dependent on benzos, which are having less and less benefit and have sapped the last fragments of happiness and cognitive functioning I had left (like the ability to listen to music, podcasts etc.). I also took an overdose out of desperation and ended up trapped in a psych ward for 24 hours, which was awful with my physical condition. I convinced them to let me out, but this led to my parents even further monitoring every aspect of my life. They are trying to force me to eat foods I can't tolerate, giving me ultimatums about living here like having to see a psychologist (which would be almost impossible because I can barely survive in my own household, let alone attend medical appointments etc.).
I have to follow an extremely specific routine everyday designed around my family in order to literally stay alive. But now due my cognitive deterioration the time when I am away from them, late at night, is spent doing literally nothing other than lying in the darkness, waiting for the next day. I spend this time engaging in this rich, multi-faceted, tormenting fantasies about how my life could have gone if I had gotten away from them, and the self-care practices I would have implemented while living with my disease because it's like now I've been granted the knowledge of a diagnosis and how the condition should be managed and the opportunities out there when it's just too late. The most painful and tormenting crux of my existence is having to realize that, as a way to cope with living at home, I in fact caused myself irreparable physical damage and just kept myself trapped here, whereas getting out earlier would have literally meant the difference between life and death. I tried, tried so desperately to leave but since I was not a citizen, I never qualified for any kind of social assistance; I reached out to other family here but was rejected. And I watch my family living their lives -- going out, working etc. with such a profound sense of disgust; it's like all these hours I must now spend alone in the darkness are some kind of spiritual punishment I have to endure for their mistakes. And they continually gaslight me, blame me for my illness etc. They have total control over my existence because the minute I lost functioning, they would just dump me in hospital (where I'd probably be killed due to medical/psychiatric abuse). I notice that as soon as I leave the house and am not around them, my entire physical state just relaxes and I am now aware how damaging 8 years of constant hypervigilance must have been.
I feel like the lowest form of garbage on earth, because I don't get to experience anything a human being should -- social contact, friendship etc.As someone artistic who cherished so much about this world, I cry realizing I now don't get to access anything -- music, TV shows, movies etc. -- anymore. I'm not entitled to real medical treatment. I'm in a disease state where I'm theoretically dying but am also left to completely take care of myself.
And everyone, especially at home, thinks all I do is sit around lazily, doing nothing, not realizing that literally all I am doing is trying to survive and make it to the next day for no real gain. I don't even hate myself enough to want to die -- I'm attractive, intelligent, used to be funny and well-liked etc. Sometimes I will go out to doctor's appointments etc. and this glimpse of the 'outside' world I get is so haunting and painful because it's like I no longer belong or get to be a part of it; I feel like some weird hostage. I'll interact with Uber drives etc. and try to appear normal, knowing that once I go home again I'll just disintegrate into the same corpse.
I'm reminded of a Sylvia Plath quote: 'Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing.' It's like being so completely removed from life makes me simultaneously yearn for everything it holds, and in my fantasies I've created this parallel life of how things *should* have gone that I find it impossible to let go of, because I blame myself now for compromising every value I held dear (like looking after my health etc.) and can't accept that this wasn't really my fault.
I know people die and that the universe isn't fair, but it also feels unfair that I did not have to get this sick and reaching this point was completely preventable in theory. I was not suddenly stricken down by some cruel disease. My life was robbed from me (on every single level) by circumstances beyond my control, but I blame myself 24/7 for not saving myself.
My survival instinct is so strong and engrained because literally all I am doing is surviving all day, but at the same time, I'm living in a complete void and it's hard to accept all of this effort is just for nothing. If I had an impulsive method or a pill I could just take before bed,, maybe I would be gone now, but I have SN and even planning to attempt with that in my living conditions is nearly impossible, but I'm also deluding myself, knowing that I don't want to die. It seems like such an unfair trade-off -- to experience nothing after ... well, experiencing nothing for 4 years. There's no contentment in the idea for me.
I constantly doubt myself (I guess due to the family abuse) and tell myself this is my fault, none of my goals/ambitions/desires matter anyway. But suicide goes so against my own personal values that the idea of having to throw my life away at the expense of others is really sickening. I'm not someone who ever gave up (and, honestly, most people would be long dead after what I've been through) and I feel so angry that there is so much out there I could theoretically try for my anxiety/depression etc. if I was still in a milder/moderate disease state but no longer can. I feel like I failed myself and it's almost impossible to let go of life, seeing all this *possibility* out there that I just never explored or got to explore.
I'm just so sad and heartbroken; I know I have to let go eventually, even though I keep bargaining with myself (I ran out of benzos today, so promised myself it would have to be tomorrow, but I managed to get some from my doctor, and of course I'll panic again in a week when I run out). However, maybe a massive dose of Valium before SN will put me in enough of a stupor that I don't care about attempting anymore. It's just so fucking stupid and awful, and maybe I sound self-centered, but I can't imagine a worse possible set of circumstances created for someone who deep deep down wants to live (I think I just don't have suicide 'in me' at all). I'm trapped on literally every single level a person can be trapped. And now after being robbed of every form of safety (internal/external) all I want is to go back to a 'normal' life -- because all the things I guess 'normal' people take for granted feel so profoundly amplified now. I would give anything just to lie down in a bed and fall asleep normally or watch a TV show or play a video game or talk to a friend on the phone.
Anyway, I'm sorry this is so long. Again, I feel like writing about it or expressing it gives me some 'control' over the circumstances but it doesn't. I'm fucked. And tonight I'll spend hours in the darkness again entertaining my fantasies, then wake up in the same nightmare tomorrow expecting something to be different. I'm so, so sick of it.
i really hope things get better whether you choose to fight or ctb.
