This quote from the new books I started made me pause, the subject of the book is heavy but very interesting.
A little over three months ago, I tried and failed to end my life. Spending time in treatment and still struggling with ‘what if’ and ‘why’. Recently I’ve realized that I regret reaching out for help. Letting others help me carry some of the weight that’s been crushing me. That everything would have been better had I remained silent.
I honestly have no idea why I reached out. Hearing this like ‘it’s gets better’ etc are frustrating to me. More so now that before everything. I’ve watched my life fall apart after graduating college almost ten years ago. I have a job, for clarification. However it was this job, more so the promotion I received, the supervisor I had, and the emotional/mental abuse I dealt with for 5 months that resulted in the hospital stay.
I know the world is starting to open up and things are moving in the right direction but I’ve felt very lost and alone for years. I love what I majored in, but after covid I doubt I’ll be able to realistically persue this. I don’t want to give up on this dream (it’s honestly like the last one I have), my family has given up and talks like my currently job is it for me.
I don’t think treatment worked… I don’t think taking my own life is selfish. I think I’m just done fighting for an existence I don’t want.