ihurtoomuch

@ihurtoomuch
Community Voices

Morning depression

Leads me to wanting to die. Some would be happy, I know. Happy to have me far away.

Because I say what I think, I’m honest and brave. But not strong, neither physical nor emotional.

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Community Voices

Were you called an "old soul" as a child?

<p>Were you called an "old soul" as a child?</p>
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Five years ago, I never thought I’d be able to…

<p>Five years ago, I never thought I’d be able to…</p>
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Community Voices

The Courageous Choice Made by Someone Dealing with Chronic Suicidality

I never know how to answer my therapist when she asks me how I am doing each week. I typically answer with, “I’m fine,” even though I know the social norm is to answer with, “I’m good, how are you?” I think “fine” suits me well. At my baseline, I feel like I simply exist. There usually is no one way to describe how I am feeling inside. Not even my therapist can understand what exactly goes on inside my mind each day. Being chronically suicidal “fine” is pretty much comparable to everyone else’s “good.” I appear “good”, but nobody can see that I am always fighting of a pack of wolves. My wolves are out for blood and even though you can’t see them, their howls and snarls are deafening to me. When I am “fine,” it just means that some of the wolves have lied down but are tracking every move I make.

Multiple times a day, my brain evaluates whether my life is one worth living. I can experience the beauty of a setting sun sitting behind the sparkling ocean and yet, I have this persistent thought of “is this enough to stay around for?” I continuously battle my intrusive thoughts because they are creative and try to trick me when I am distracted. I cannot even begin to comprehend the fact that not everyone faces such daunting thoughts every day of their life. Even on my best days, I have a nagging sensation of unfulfillment. Nearly every day, I feel as though I am completing a puzzle and finish only to find out I have lost one of the pieces. I may have accomplished 1499 pieces, but that one missing piece makes the picture defective.

My highs are just above a surface level and my lows are lower than the bottom of the ocean. My hope fades in and out like my home’s electricity in a windstorm. When I am at the bottom of the ocean, my world is colorless. My sensations completely cease to exist. I enter a 2-dimensional world in which I become a scrap of paper being blown away by the wind. I am blown to bridges where I sit and contemplate my worth, the reason I exist, what nonexistence looks like, and if the life I know would look any different if I was not present. My mind can be a scary place that antagonizes me creating doubts of defeating the villain in my psyche. When I hear of people losing their battle with #Depression , I can’t help but wonder if I’ll be next. My biggest fear is succumbing to the force I fight daily. But when someone asks me what my biggest fear is how can I tell them I fear my own hand?

Every day, I make a choice to stay. Somedays it is an easy choice, and the other days I debate this choice for what feels like an eternity. I am getting better at identifying positives throughout the day which helps me become aware of the things I would miss if I was not here. I make sure I have an activity to look forward to before completing each day. Sometimes it is as simple as having a cup of my favorite tea before bed, and other days I can go for a hike, do some painting, or walk my dog. I have found that defying society’s expectation of 100% productivity has given my life more color. I still have days where I face the temptation of self-destruction, so I cry, I make my “reasons to stay” lists, and I look at pictures of places I want to someday travel to. Some days, I have to give into my thoughts by crawling into bed to make sure I am safe until the feelings and thoughts of suicidality pass. Crawling into bed on these days can make me feel defeated, weak, and powerless. I give myself as much credit as I can and try to be proud of myself. I understand that the battle in my brain is draining and honestly pretty frightening. On my worst days, a quote by Albert Camus helps me keep fighting. “But in the end, one needs more courage to live than to kill himself.”

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Community Voices

Tired of the pain #ChronicPain

Not dealing well with my pain today.

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My Healing From Trauma Doesn't Depend on Forgiving You

When I was younger, I would always hear my elders telling me something along the lines of, “forgive so-and-so for you.” And, “If you don’t forgive, you can’t move on.” Whenever I was upset about someone doing me wrong, I was pushed to forgive them and get over it. It always confused me because the entire concept of forgiveness as described to me seemed to benefit other people rather than benefit me. Why would my healing or my ability to move on and grow from a situation be contingent on whether or not I forgive someone? Why does my choice to not forgive someone automatically mean I’m holding a grudge or not moving on? I endured years of being gaslit and manipulated into forgiving people for the harm they caused, expecting it to suddenly make me feel better before I realized forgiving someone wouldn’t suddenly lift the cover off my trauma and allow me to step into my healing. No matter how much I’d attempted to convince myself I’d forgiven someone and I was ready to move on, I’d be knocked on my ass with the anger, the pain, and sadness that had never been addressed. Growing up under “forgiveness culture” led to me finding healing and power in protecting my forgiveness. Forgiving others for the harm they’ve done, especially without true accountability and change on their end, does nothing to promote my growth and healing, but refusing to forgive people who don’t deserve it and continue to grow on my own is empowering. Forgiving someone doesn’t erase the hurt, it doesn’t change what they’ve said or done, and I don’t believe it is the key to moving on. Centering healing around forgiving other people felt like I was involving others in it as if I needed them to move on. I didn’t. I can continue to live my life perfectly fine without forgiving people I deem undeserving. This doesn’t require a grudge or any bitter feelings. Most of the time, I don’t even think about that person anymore. This also means if/when I do forgive someone, it is 100% with my feelings and health in mind. My forgiveness is rare and a gift. Treating it as something I cherish is the most healing thing. I no longer feel weighed down by guilt, hindering my own progress because I’m stuck struggling to forgive the unforgivable. I took the power back into my own hands.

Community Voices

Random Thoughts

<p>Random Thoughts</p>
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Community Voices

Is anyone else #tired *trigger warning #Suicide #Selfharm

Does anyone else ever feel tired of life? Not that you can't go on or want to end things, but just tired of living like this, or, for the minutest of seconds feel disappointed that you have woken up that day? I'm just so, so tired #ChronicPain #Depression #darkthoughts

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