I made a post literally less than a week ago saying that I would die at 40 if I am still unhappy.
What fucking naive, hopeful thought I even dared to even imagine.
I was ready to wait another 17 years. Happiness was just a bit late to our meeting. Anyone can be a bit late. Maybe it got lost, but eventually it would make its way around.
I was even so dumb enough to think that I would be able to stop my countdown one day and the number of days I was away from 40 would become my number of courage-- To show that I somehow avoided my execution and that I lived.
I tried giving myself reasons to live. I really did.
But now it just feels like the rug got pulled out from under my feet.
For context: I am failing my class. I'm in grad school. I need a "B" to pass and be able to get my degree, but it looks like I'm getting a C.
And no, it's not failing the class that is my ultimate reason to kill myself. It is certainly what is about to push me over the edge (the fact that I feel like no one understands what's going on) but there had been a culmination of... my whole life.
I was already exhausted coming out of the previous academic year. COVID stressed me out in unimaginable ways. There was a death on my campus from suicide. As someone who had attempted suicide and was always thinking about it, it rattled me. I broke my leg. Lost two weeks of work and class. recovering from my first surgery every in life. My hopelessness really skyrocketed when I got that email from my professor telling me that I should withdraw.
From there... I think it went downhill.
I think I'm just a weak person. As much as I was the type to laugh over the most mundane things, I was also the type to cry over the smallest things.
And I now realize, the type to lose hope over a single email.
I really wish I didn't. That first time I fell into a catatonic, "I don't care anymore," state, I was scared.
It was the first time when I really felt like I could die. All previous attempt or thoughts were accompanied with, "But I need to finish that TV show..." or "I look forward to driving and going on a road trip."
But each reason I came this time was crushed by, "I don't care." I felt like I was going to really die. If I had a gun in my hand, I would have pulled the trigger, no hesitation.
So here I am. Counting how many Wellbutrin tablets I have (I stopped taking them since yesterday I could save up). Adding SN into my Amazon Cart. Reading up on how to hang myself. Googling if it's possible to stab my own neck. Looking up hotels so I don't freaking traumatize my coworkers (I work and live on a university campus). Thank god I didn't give away my bottles of alcohol (I tried to give them away to people because I was on medication). I might need it.
Side note: And god forbid, if anyone finds out that I was using this site. SS does not need any more of the crappy publicity it has with the rest of the world. This was probably the only place where I felt like I was able to be true and vent without fear that I would be treated differently. As much as it gave information/helped those who wanted to suicide, it also gave me comfort and that feeling of "I'm not alone." It kept some of my horrible feelings at bay. (I get the parents who are upset at this site and want it to shut down. I wouldn't want my own hypothetical child to be on this website. But that would signify that there is an actual bigger issue happening than the existence of a single website.)
Regardless of whether this site existed or not, I would have been contemplating, googling, and researching ways to kill myself. I'll delete my account when I decide.
Before I log off to finish the rest of grad school work for this summer semester... I am also again naively holding onto hope that maybe I do pass the class. Then things will be okay. But it looks like that TV trope, "despair event horizon" is fast approaching. And yea, I am scared. My future became a huge unknown and I don't know what is beyond it.
What fucking naive, hopeful thought I even dared to even imagine.
I was ready to wait another 17 years. Happiness was just a bit late to our meeting. Anyone can be a bit late. Maybe it got lost, but eventually it would make its way around.
I was even so dumb enough to think that I would be able to stop my countdown one day and the number of days I was away from 40 would become my number of courage-- To show that I somehow avoided my execution and that I lived.
I tried giving myself reasons to live. I really did.
But now it just feels like the rug got pulled out from under my feet.
For context: I am failing my class. I'm in grad school. I need a "B" to pass and be able to get my degree, but it looks like I'm getting a C.
And no, it's not failing the class that is my ultimate reason to kill myself. It is certainly what is about to push me over the edge (the fact that I feel like no one understands what's going on) but there had been a culmination of... my whole life.
I was already exhausted coming out of the previous academic year. COVID stressed me out in unimaginable ways. There was a death on my campus from suicide. As someone who had attempted suicide and was always thinking about it, it rattled me. I broke my leg. Lost two weeks of work and class. recovering from my first surgery every in life. My hopelessness really skyrocketed when I got that email from my professor telling me that I should withdraw.
From there... I think it went downhill.
I think I'm just a weak person. As much as I was the type to laugh over the most mundane things, I was also the type to cry over the smallest things.
And I now realize, the type to lose hope over a single email.
I really wish I didn't. That first time I fell into a catatonic, "I don't care anymore," state, I was scared.
It was the first time when I really felt like I could die. All previous attempt or thoughts were accompanied with, "But I need to finish that TV show..." or "I look forward to driving and going on a road trip."
But each reason I came this time was crushed by, "I don't care." I felt like I was going to really die. If I had a gun in my hand, I would have pulled the trigger, no hesitation.
So here I am. Counting how many Wellbutrin tablets I have (I stopped taking them since yesterday I could save up). Adding SN into my Amazon Cart. Reading up on how to hang myself. Googling if it's possible to stab my own neck. Looking up hotels so I don't freaking traumatize my coworkers (I work and live on a university campus). Thank god I didn't give away my bottles of alcohol (I tried to give them away to people because I was on medication). I might need it.
Side note: And god forbid, if anyone finds out that I was using this site. SS does not need any more of the crappy publicity it has with the rest of the world. This was probably the only place where I felt like I was able to be true and vent without fear that I would be treated differently. As much as it gave information/helped those who wanted to suicide, it also gave me comfort and that feeling of "I'm not alone." It kept some of my horrible feelings at bay. (I get the parents who are upset at this site and want it to shut down. I wouldn't want my own hypothetical child to be on this website. But that would signify that there is an actual bigger issue happening than the existence of a single website.)
Regardless of whether this site existed or not, I would have been contemplating, googling, and researching ways to kill myself. I'll delete my account when I decide.
Before I log off to finish the rest of grad school work for this summer semester... I am also again naively holding onto hope that maybe I do pass the class. Then things will be okay. But it looks like that TV trope, "despair event horizon" is fast approaching. And yea, I am scared. My future became a huge unknown and I don't know what is beyond it.
