Suicidal Thoughts

Even when I’m not posting, I still think of another members problem or what I’ve read through all the post. Last night I thought about TGs issues with his sciatica. Unfortunately, Chronic pain can lead to other issues such as anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts, social isolation, substance abuse just to name a few. To begin with, find the right MD before it progresses even further. Sciatica can show up in many forms whether down the buttock down the leg or even into the groin down the front of your leg . It all depends on which nerve has been affected. Those nerves exit the spine usually in the Lumbar or sacral portion of the spine. It can usually be caused by degenerate disk disease or herniated disk. Most people usually have lower back injuries due to years of overuse and improper lifting techniques. I started thinking about TG when I got out of bed last night and felt that all to familiar pain in my groin and down the front of my leg. Needless to say it was a long night. But a message to TG, get a MD who can find the source of the nerve impingement and start there. Like you I am against medication but sometimes it does help. Never think of the worst case scenario! Sometimes you can do simple things such as physical therapy to strengthen the lower back. Everything depends on what the radiologist sees on the MRI on how the treatment is based. A great morning all and think positive!……David

It wasn’t an act of courage, nor a step toward justice. It was more like a silent scream, a decision made through tears, silent screams, and the fear that paralyzed me. Reporting my father for abuse. I don’t know whether I was more afraid of him or of myself, but that choice consumed me. The awareness that once it was made, there would be no turning back.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face. His cold eyes, the hatred in his gestures, the rage that hit me without warning. I didn’t know which was worse: the physical pain or the psychological one, which slowly seeped into every thought, every moment, every minute, every fucking second. But that day, that fucking day, I looked at my life and decided I didn’t want to be the person I had seen reflected in his eyes. I wanted to break that chain that kept me trapped, and to do that, I had to do something that would destroy me: report him. Or at least try.

When I did it, I felt the ground shake beneath me. I had been deceived by everyone—teachers, friends. I wasn’t just a little girl looking for help. I was a wounded animal, trying to free myself from the cage with one desperate swipe, but the price was too high. My family was crumbling around me, and my life was becoming a spiral of loneliness and pain. Maybe even depression.

Then came the part that almost killed me inside: my mother. Her eyes were empty when she looked at me, as if she were seeing a stranger. I could hear her screaming, but no sound came out. Just words, words that pierced me like knives: “If you don’t withdraw the report, I’ll kill myself.” I don’t know what was worse: hearing those words or realizing that she was really ready to do it. She put me in front of an impossible choice. And at that moment, I felt like a horrible person. I couldn’t breathe. I wondered how it was possible that I, a daughter who should have been protected by her mother, had become the cause of her pain.

My body was shaking, my mind was confused. I could feel the weight of the world pressing on me. I wanted to die. I wanted to disappear. I wondered if it would be better to end it all, to escape to a dark hole where no one would make me feel guilty, where I wouldn’t have to choose between my own well-being and my mother’s life. I felt the emptiness as if it were something solid, like a hand that grabbed me and was pulling me under the surface.

I stood there, motionless, with my heart racing and the thoughts attacking me. Every breath felt heavy, every heartbeat made me feel even more useless. The suicidal thoughts weren’t a distant dream but a reality squeezing my mind, making me want to close my eyes and never wake up. I didn’t want to hear that voice anymore, that threat, that weight. I didn’t want to be the cause of that suffering, I didn’t want to be me.

Yet, amid all that darkness, I did something I never thought I’d do: I chose not to give up. I chose to stay standing, even though I felt my strength fading. I chose to withdraw the report, with agreements made with him. As strange as it may sound, I did it for the girl I had lost along the way, for the girl I wanted to find again.

I felt like a monster, but I also realized that my survival depended on that moment. It wouldn’t be easy, it wouldn’t be fair, but I needed to save myself. And while I felt myself slipping into the abyss, I realized that, although I couldn’t change the past, I still had control over the future.

It wasn’t courage that guided me, but desperation, the will to survive. I walked through loneliness and pain, with a broken heart and a mind that couldn’t find peace. But deep down, I never gave up. Even in the darkest moments, when I thought I couldn’t get back up, I forced myself to take a step forward. Every day, every step, brought me closer to the person I am today.

It’s not easy to live with the weight of such a big decision. But the truth is that, for all the pain, that choice gave me the chance to be free. To find a path that wasn’t dictated by abuse, threats, or fear. And today, looking back, I have no regrets. I chose to live. And that is the greatest victory I could have achieved.

TW: Suicidal things,abuse,trauma,domestic violence.

Hi. My name is Rebecca im from Italy and I want to tell my story to give courage to those who, like me, have lived through the pain and loneliness of a difficult experience. I’m not here to seek compassion, but to show that even when it seems like you can’t go on, there’s always a way to rise again. I want someone to know that it’s never too late to take control of your life, to choose to live, to choose to be strong. If my story can help even just one person not feel alone, not give up, then sharing it will have been worth it. Here’s my truth.”

It wasn’t an act of courage, nor a step toward justice. It was more like a silent scream, a decision made through tears, silent screams, and the fear that paralyzed me. Reporting my father for abuse. I don’t know whether I was more afraid of him or of myself, but that choice consumed me. The awareness that once it was made, there would be no turning back.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face. His cold eyes, the hatred in his gestures, the rage that hit me without warning. I didn’t know which was worse: the physical pain or the psychological one, which slowly seeped into every thought, every moment, every minute, every fucking second. But that day, that fucking day, I looked at my life and decided I didn’t want to be the person I had seen reflected in his eyes. I wanted to break that chain that kept me trapped, and to do that, I had to do something that would destroy me: report him. Or at least try.

When I did it, I felt the ground shake beneath me. I had been deceived by everyone—teachers, friends. I wasn’t just a little girl looking for help. I was a wounded animal, trying to free myself from the cage with one desperate swipe, but the price was too high. My family was crumbling around me, and my life was becoming a spiral of loneliness and pain. Maybe even depression.

Then came the part that almost killed me inside: my mother. Her eyes were empty when she looked at me, as if she were seeing a stranger. I could hear her screaming, but no sound came out. Just words, words that pierced me like knives: “If you don’t withdraw the report, I’ll kill myself.” I don’t know what was worse: hearing those words or realizing that she was really ready to do it. She put me in front of an impossible choice. And at that moment, I felt like a horrible person. I couldn’t breathe. I wondered how it was possible that I, a daughter who should have been protected by her mother, had become the cause of her pain.

My body was shaking, my mind was confused. I could feel the weight of the world pressing on me. I wanted to die. I wanted to disappear. I wondered if it would be better to end it all, to escape to a dark hole where no one would make me feel guilty, where I wouldn’t have to choose between my own well-being and my mother’s life. I felt the emptiness as if it were something solid, like a hand that grabbed me and was pulling me under the surface.

I stood there, motionless, with my heart racing and the thoughts attacking me. Every breath felt heavy, every heartbeat made me feel even more useless. The suicidal thoughts weren’t a distant dream but a reality squeezing my mind, making me want to close my eyes and never wake up. I didn’t want to hear that voice anymore, that threat, that weight. I didn’t want to be the cause of that suffering, I didn’t want to be me.

Yet, amid all that darkness, I did something I never thought I’d do: I chose not to give up. I chose to stay standing, even though I felt my strength fading. I chose to withdraw the report, with agreements made with him. As strange as it may sound, I did it for the girl I had lost along the way, for the girl I wanted to find again.

I felt like a monster, but I also realized that my survival depended on that moment. It wouldn’t be easy, it wouldn’t be fair, but I needed to save myself. And while I felt myself slipping into the abyss, I realized that, although I couldn’t change the past, I still had control over the future.

It wasn’t courage that guided me, but desperation, the will to survive. I walked through loneliness and pain, with a broken heart and a mind that couldn’t find peace. But deep down, I never gave up. Even in the darkest moments, when I thought I couldn’t get back up, I forced myself to take a step forward. Every day, every step, brought me closer to the person I am today.

It’s not easy to live with the weight of such a big decision. But the truth is that, for all the pain, that choice gave me the chance to be free. To find a path that wasn’t dictated by abuse, threats, or fear. And today, looking back, I have no regrets. I chose to live. And that is the greatest victory I could have achieved. #Depression #Trauma #Abuse #PTSD

CW for abuse, trauma, grief, and suicidal ideation. And since this post has adult topics, 18+ please
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I'm going through what is unequivocally the most difficult period of my life. I've been through a lot, including abuse of all kinds, losses and deaths in the family, and many heartbreaks and disappointments. But this right here, right now, is the worst period of my life. I can say this with certainty. I'm actively suicidal, with a plan, timeframe, intent, etc. But before you tell me to ask a professional for help with that, please know I just was hospitalized for it this month, and it was one of the scariest things I went through. It was violent, inhumane, and traumatizing. I get nightmares about it and sometimes if I see something that reminds me or it, I feel terrified. I will never, ever tell a professional I'm suicidal again. Not while being on Medicaid, at least.

I had been struggling for a long time. One of my particular issues are a terrible response to childhood and adult trauma. For whatever reason, perhaps to gain a sense of safety, security, or control, or love, I seek out abusive men and abusive dynamics. I only do this when I have lost my footing and I'm desperate for all these things — me as I write this post. I've been doing this for years. I guess it feels safe to me. Control feels like protection, abuse feels like love. I feel the weight of the whole world on my shoulders, and I'm desperate to escape having to control everything. I felt safety with my ex who hurt me, and I don't. So, one struggle I can't stop struggling with is retraumatizing myself and exposing myself to more abuse. I've been doing this since I was thirteen. But really, I've been engaging in this behavior without knowing it since I was in first grade. I'll never forget asking my sisters how they would leave me and abandon me, because somehow being hurt made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. Do you see how fucking broken I am? I try to fight against it, but this happens time and time again. It's part of the reason I want to take my life, and plan to act on that..

So, I meet a person, my now ex and still current FP, and he gives this abusive dynamic. But he also gives me love. Love, support, safety, and the most kindness I've ever received from an intimate partner. He intentionally made himself to be an FP of mine (he told me). At first, we were repeating this very abusive dynamic, but then he stopped and no longer wanted to hurt me. After trepidation and protests, I eventually accepted that. And I grew to even want the healing, non abusive love he gave me. I loved him with all my heart, and he loved me. He no longer even wanted to hurt me. He just wanted to love me. I felt so loved, and I was okay with that. For a while, I stopped seeking out abuse, from him, and from anyone else. I wanted to marry him. He told me I was his soulmate, that he would protect me, that I was his special goose. I sought out love and safety and a foundation in this person. I thought everything was okay...but then he tells me no longer wants to be with me...it was heart wrenching. It shattered me. It hurt me so much. It broke my heart because I thought he felt the same as I did...he used to love me, so why didnt he love me any more? Why was I suddenly not worthy anymore? What did I do wrong? He cited it to values. I start looking at all the ways I'm not enough, how my values aren't enough, where I went wrong. Was it because I wanted to wait until marriage to have sex, suddenly? Is it because I became Christian? Is it because I'm not acting like I used to, very promiscuous? Is it because you can't hurt me anymore?

But whatever...he continues to treat me like he's my partner still, even though we are friends. He tells me he loves me, he calls me his goose, we talk about the future things we will do together — how we will visit Oxford and his home town and all these things. I want more, but I'm able to pretend we are together because he's treating me like a partner anyways.

He leaves on a week long vacation with his "lesbian" ex, who he waxes lyrical "She's a lesbian" "It's okay if I stay in an Airbnb with her. She's a lesbian. We only dated for a week, eight years ago " and I tell him it hurts me, but I can't control him...

But then he suddenly and point blankly tells me that she suddenly isn't gay anymore and they fell in love with each other. By text. I woke up, and the day was normal. It was sunny, I had just gotten out of a crisis and was looking forward to a hopeful future. And then he slams that on me. So, I'm scrambling...what do I do? How do I navigate the fact that I wasn't prepared for this loss? How do I navigate the fact that he's still my FP? What about the fact he treated me like his partner until now? How do I handle what feels like a betrayal? How do I leave him to protect my dignity? How do I handle the rage inside me? Because truthfully, and I'm speaking candidly here, I've never had this much anger and wrath towards an individual in many, many years. How do I navigate the fact that there's two sides wrestling within me now? There's a part that wants to be kind, forgiving, and merciful. And I try to let that win. I am so careful with everything I say and do. Everything. I never want to cause him any harm. And then there's the part that is full of rage and wrath that shocks me. I find myself thinking things I never imagined I would ever think. I never show that side. I know the tongue is a weapon, and that's not really me. I don't want those things, but it's there. I wish I had someone to share these thoughts with..

But the worst is the grief...the betrayal. I sit with a constantly high degree of physical and emotional pain. I'm talking like over a 7 out of a ten. My chest hurts. I experience panic attacks. I have nightmares and crying spells. I binge eating and starve myself. I cope silently. I cry away from others and I try to lean on others for support, but no one wants to sit in the darkness with me. It's all platitudes.

But worst of all, he proved to me a deep seated fear...that only abusers love me. "Normal" people have basically always left me, been incompatible with me, disappeared, had it not work out, or dumped me. But oh no, abusers love me like hell. All I wanted was for someone to prove me wrong, and he didn't. He showed me point blank, with a powerful statement.

I tried to end the friendship but I couldn't go more than a week because I'm still trauma bonded or addicted or attached to him. It's extremely destructive to my self esteem and concept.

I kept trying to use my coping skills, but how do you cope when you're dealing with grief, betrayal, PTSD, OCD, BPD, depression, and suicidal thoughts? If you're me, you shut down. So I returned to my old pattern...I sought out the only people who seem to love me (abusers) and I'm going to starve myself. Maybe to death. I don't know. I'm dying inside.

For a while, I felt like I had hope. But now I feel I can't hang on long enough to see the dawn. I'm a broken person, who can't stop self harming and self destructive behaviors. My biggest supporter is gone. I am reeling in physical and emotional pain. I had a horrible bout of stomach pain twice last week, and I thought I had to go to the hospital. My tremors have gotten so bad. I can't cope. I have panic attacks and I disassociate. I'm terrified. I'm in therapy and with psychiatry but I just have no hope.

I want it to end, and I want to be in a peaceful place with no hurts and no betrayal and no suffering.

#MentalHealth
#Addiction
#Anxiety
#AnorexiaNervosa
#BorderlinePersonalityDisorder
#Depression
#Loneliness
#Grief
#EatingDisorders
#ObsessiveCompulsiveDisorder
#PTSD
#Selfharm
#Suicide
#MightyTogether
#CheckInWithMe
#Relationships

Hi, my name is StoicWriter575. I'm here because I struggle with suicidal thoughts and I have struggled with them since I was 14 years old...I'm 44 now.

#MightyTogether