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  LiveWire / My Forums / Viewing Story

My depression, and suicide attempts
The following story was submitted anonymously on Oct. 20, 2005.
The names have been changed to protect the author's privacy.

Hey. I just thought I would share my story, so that others may read it and get some comfort, maybe.
Iíve had a pretty bad life so far, that lead to severe depression, self-harm, suicidal thoughts and suicide attempts.
I suppose I should start to from the beginning, so that you can understand why I felt this bad. My dad died from brain cancer when I was nine. I donít remember much of it, only the hurt, and sadness, but thatís when it went downhill.

My mum got depressed I suppose, and was an alcoholic; she stopped caring about my siblings and me. Iím the youngest.... so one by one, they all left, and didnít look back on their grim home life, so I was left.... on my own with mother.
I tried to help her. I never asked for anything, I cleaned and I cooked. But it was never enough. At nights she would emotionally abuse me, put me down, tell me Iím unwanted and Iím only good for the cleaning purposes.... it hurt a lot, but I suppose I got used to it, to some extent.

I still had my grandma, I used to go there at weekends, and be a child I suppose, I was in my early teens, but I had grown up so fast. But she died when I was 15.... so I had no one, and nowhere to go now. I was stuck at home all the time.

I started to get more down and depressed. I mean, I donít think I was ever happy after my dad died, but now the pain was constant, and I felt the loneliness a lot more.
I had friends, and one of them in particular...lily tried to help me out, convinced me to get help and try and feel better.

So I went to the doctors, got some pills, and started to see a councilor. But it didnít help, I didnít feel any better, I hated going to counseling, I felt stupid, they made me feel stupid, I changed councilor many times, I did try and get more help, but I failed. Eventually I stopped taking the medication, it wasnít helping, and my doctor wasnít a "mental illness" kind of doctor, she only seemed to understand physical illness.
I felt let down by the professionals, they all seemed fed up of me, and had stopped listening to what I wanted, and kept fobbing me off to another councilor, messing me about, and messing my head up.

I was still very unhappy, and had started self-harm. I wanted rid of the pain, I needed rid of the pain. I couldnít take it anymore. This helped take the pain away for a little while, and I became "addicted", so to speak.

My friends noticed the self-harm, and I think it scared them; they stopped trying to help as much, and get fed up with me. Sometimes I would be upset at school, and they would ignore me sitting in the corner crying.... they didnít want me bringing them down, which is understandable...they wanted to have fun, but it still hurt. It hurt a lot.

My friends became more distant, my mum drank more, and I became more depressed. I was so lonely, and I had no one to help me. It sucked.

I didnít really care about me anymore. I threw myself into took my mind off the pain inside, but that was a bad thing sometimes, I didnít think straight. One night I was walking home after work, and I was raped.
This took the last bit of dignity I had left, and screwed my head up so much. I felt used, I felt like an object, I was no longer human; I was a piece of filth.
I stopped eating, I hated myself so much. I felt sick at the smell of food. I was hurting so much, and I had no one to tell.

I carried on for a little bit, as a mess. I didnít care about life, I had no fait in life, I was never going to be happy again, and it sucked. I had so much pain inside, no one loved me, and no one cared about me. I didnít belong.
I attempted suicide twice in the space of two months. Both times I failed (obviously), but each time, I felt more down after, I couldnít even succeed with death.... so I was a failure in every single thing possible.

I donít know what was keeping me on the earth. I had met some people over the Internet, who had helped keep me sane some nights, but there was still some kind of fight, I donít know where it came from.

Recently I have been feeling really depressed again. And the pain managed to double, which I never thought possible until I was feeling it. I really didnít think I could make it through. I had moved away from home, away from mum. A new start, but I was still unhappy, what was wrong with me?
I started thinking of suicide again, but I still had one fault. I cared about all the people who had let me down, and I cared about the people I had met on the Internet, this hurt me more than comforted me, and I resented that feeling, because suicide wasnít an option.

I did get too much again, and I nearly reached for those pills, then someone gave me a link to a suicide help site. And I read it. One part of it stood out.... and got me thinking. If I die, I will never feel again, I would never get the relieved feeling of making it through my problems, and I think that is the feeling I have been longing for, for a long time. So I put the pills away. And I am here for another night at least.

I really hope I find that relief. I need to find that relief, I am still in a lot of pain, still quite unbearable. But I have that little bit of fight, which will hopefully get me through. Hopefully.

Thanks if you read.


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