| TCGuest |
02-21-2017 12:02 AM |
Depressed
Okay, I'm guessing no one is going to read this, but that's okay with me. I have been depressed for a while now. My family believes that I'm depressed a friend of mine committed suicide over a year ago, and yeah, Sure, that's part of it, but not really. I'm depressed because I hate myself and my life, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't blame it on my friend, thank you very much.
I am the middle child in my family, and I am forgotten a lot as well. Honestly, that wouldn't be so bad except that it happens over and over, multiple times a day, at the same time every week, on days I shouldn't be forgotten on, and by everyone. For instance, I have multiple dance classes that end at 9:15, and I am people forget to pick me up from them almost every time. One night, my older sister was being picked up from the same place and at the same time, and I came out a minute later than she did. They had left without me and I had no idea what had happened. Or the time the forgot me on my birthday. Also, my parents definetly value my sisters over me. It's gotten to the point where it can seem intentional. For example, my little sister is a competitive gymnast. She has a Wisconsin dells meet over the weekend of my birthday. My parents choice is to leave my older sister and me behind to go to Wisconsin dells. They missed my birthday and didn't even call. I get them wanting to see my little sitter compete, but I felt like one of them should've stayed home or maybe called. My little sister has multiple gymnastic meets a year, and I have one birthday. It just can be hurtful, I guess, that they so clearly value her over me.
My mom also has a tendency to yell. Her solutions to problems is to scream at us about how terrible of human beings we are and everything that's wrong with us until she thinks she has hurt us enough. When I was seven, she called me a double curse word for asking if I could do something fi don't remember the details of. I. Was. Seven. That really damages you. After it happens over and over, it makes you wonder what you had done to make your own mother hate you so darn much. It makes you wonder if you deserve to be alive. We have tried to talk to my father about it, and he tells us to shake it off because they aren't things she really believes. But that doesn't make logical sense. She had to have thought them and believed them somewhere in her for her to yell them at her children. It's not something you can just "shake off". I try so hard but I'm never good enough for either of them. I'm not good enough for anyone, to be honest. I mean, I have friends who say they care about me, but who am I to tell? They could be lying to make me feel better about myself or something. I just don't know. Then, of course, when I tell them that, they assure me that they aren't lying, but isn't that what someone who was lying would do? They try, but they aren't able to understand how my brain is wired. It rejects any notion that I might be an okay human being. It takes insults from years ago and throws them back out me. It tells me I'm worthless, useless, unimportant, etc. Part of me tries to encourage myself, but my brain usually wins. My friends just want me to understand that I'm okay and that I can trust them, but that isn't something I'm capable of doing. I don't know.
Really, all of this added together makes me suicidal. I try so hard not to be but it isn't something in my control. There are obviously times in fits of emotions I want to be dead, but when I'm calm and lying in bed, like I am currently doing now, there are times when death just seems like the better option. Those nights have increased to the amount of almost every night. I've attempted suicide, which my parents don't take seriously, and I've attempted to cut, which my parents don't take seriously. What's the point? I feel like by leaving, maybe, in some twisted way, I could help my sisters or everyone else around me. Maybe I could show my mom what her words do to us, and maybe she would stop for my other two sisters. Maybe I could take the pressure off my friends who are determined to make me better. Sometimes, that's all I feel I am to them. Something to fix. A project. And maybe death would just end it all- the sadness, the nights spent crying myself to sleep, the constant worry, stress, and fear, just everything. I wouldn't be around to deal with the repercussions. It would just be the end. Feeling suicidal is scariest at night. I'm terrified of myself and my want to die. It isn't normal, and it isn't just me overreacting or being emotional. This is who I am when I am calm and collected. Why is okay for death to feel like the better option then? I know I will never act on killing myself. There are people I do need to stay for, and I don't want to be thought of like that. Still, it's terrifying, and sometimes I wish I could act on it.
Anyways, this was a really long post that no one will probably ever read, but whatever. It felt good to vent. There's probably more I want to say, but I'm not going to because I don't want to fall asleep and drop my phone on my face. Tomorrow's another day, and it's coming whether I like it or not. To anyone who did read, thanks for listening to this overall pointless vent for things I can't say aloud.
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