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Almost hit bottom
Posted November 13th 2009 at 02:15 PM by ThoughtManifest
Updated November 13th 2009 at 02:25 PM by ThoughtManifest
Updated November 13th 2009 at 02:25 PM by ThoughtManifest
---triggering (suicide/sh)
I'm not sure if it's because of hormones or what, but I completely overreacted last night in a sad manner. My mother was obviously in a lot of pain from taking a shower and was angry when she came down, telling me to take the dog out again (which I did). When I came back she said that my phone was going crazy and she had picked it up and saw that I had a calendar appointment. (Dad was also calling, so that prolly made it seem like it was freaking out more than it actually was) She had opened up the phone and looked at the appointment.
Me, already upset from having to take the dog out, was stupid and asked why she had opened the phone up in the first place. Dumb move. She went way off the deep-end and got really angry, saying that since she was paying for it she could look at it any time she wanted to and that she was thinking about taking it away. I don't care if she takes my phone away (which she wouldn't because she wouldn't be able to know when to get me from school, or if I needed help) then she said something along the lines of 'after we just spent over one hundred dollars on you, you treat us like this.' Okay, 1) you didn't have to spend that money, 2) I didn't really do anything big, 3) I was willing, and planning, to buy DJ Hero for myself when you guys jumped in. But at this point I was going for damage control, so I put on my happy voice and continued on my way.
This is the weird part; I suddenly felt like crying. A lot. The only logical reason is a mixture of the fact that mother was trying to show how much control she has over my life combined with the hopeless fact that she's in so much pain that's the only thing she can think of doing to me. At that moment it was not about punishing me, it was about showing control and making me feel less like an independent young adult. (I find it hypocritical that they are fine with Kayla and Tera finding themselves because they are out of sight, but not me)
So I'm in the kitchen, crying my eyes out, and trying to make sure that they don't hear. I clean myself up (using techniques I've learned over years of keeping them from knowing that I had been crying) and went upstairs for a little while. Long enough to make up the excuse that I was going to clean my room and go downstairs. I was relatively certain that they wouldn't follow me, but you can never be sure. Now here's the concerning part.
I let go while I was downstairs, crying about everything and anything, that kind of crying where your mind is almost blank and repeating itself and you can feel it in your joints. I kept on wondering why my sisters weren't there even though I was in so much pain. How could I be in this house, the house where we grew up, and be in a critical period in time, yet be all alone? I had never felt so alone. It was at that point that I started to think that my life wasn't worth living. That there was nothing left here for me. If every day is going to be a silent struggle for a person who lives to be loud, what's the point? In my parent's eyes I'm worthless, and when they feel like it, or aren't too stressed to notice, I'm the best kid ever.
There just really didn't seem to be much of a reason to be alive anymore, and I had never felt that so clearly as then. The distinct will to stop living, to just stop everything. It had passed by me before, but it was different then. Something had changed either in me, or in the situation, but everything's suddenly become more dire. If I owned a gun and had it in that room, I can honestly say that I probably wouldn't be here anymore. Wouldn't be typing this. But, almost luckily, my mother doesn't allow guns in the house. So I am here, and I am writing this, and I am thinking about all of this critically.
It is kind of silly though, I woke up this morning to find an email from my oldest sister, and a facebook post from my second oldest sister. Things I would have never gotten had I followed through on my urge. I didn't eve hurt myself with my safety pins, though I did dig my thumb nail into my wrist just after my mom pulled her power trip, it's not that bad though. From here on though, I'm not sure what to do about it. I know that if it happens again, the result may be far worse, and that scares me. But I'm afraid that if my mother knew why I'm going through all of this, she would kill herself. Or go into a deep, deep depression. Neither of which I would be able to handle and would make everything worse.
The only thing I can think of to do is call my oldest sister and tell her everything when I have a chance. When there's no one in the home and I can have a few hours or so to talk her through everything. Just to make sure no one overreacts and makes matters worse. That's probably the best thing that I can do at this point before this progresses any farther. Especially since I already know how I'd kill myself given the chance, just need to do a little more research and planning and I could do it. But at this point, I don't know if I want to or not, so all I can do is put it off until I'm sure.
This is a whole new aspect of life that I never thought I'd live through, and with it comes some of the strangest feelings that seem to alienate me from everyone else. I'm hoping I can get past this and move on to a better life, but who knows how many more days of this agony I'll have to go through before that point. Will I even be myself by the end of it? Or will this pressurized environment deform be beyond repair? The scars on my arm will probably stay as a reminder, so maybe I'm already deformed. But am I beyond repair?
I'm not sure if it's because of hormones or what, but I completely overreacted last night in a sad manner. My mother was obviously in a lot of pain from taking a shower and was angry when she came down, telling me to take the dog out again (which I did). When I came back she said that my phone was going crazy and she had picked it up and saw that I had a calendar appointment. (Dad was also calling, so that prolly made it seem like it was freaking out more than it actually was) She had opened up the phone and looked at the appointment.
Me, already upset from having to take the dog out, was stupid and asked why she had opened the phone up in the first place. Dumb move. She went way off the deep-end and got really angry, saying that since she was paying for it she could look at it any time she wanted to and that she was thinking about taking it away. I don't care if she takes my phone away (which she wouldn't because she wouldn't be able to know when to get me from school, or if I needed help) then she said something along the lines of 'after we just spent over one hundred dollars on you, you treat us like this.' Okay, 1) you didn't have to spend that money, 2) I didn't really do anything big, 3) I was willing, and planning, to buy DJ Hero for myself when you guys jumped in. But at this point I was going for damage control, so I put on my happy voice and continued on my way.
This is the weird part; I suddenly felt like crying. A lot. The only logical reason is a mixture of the fact that mother was trying to show how much control she has over my life combined with the hopeless fact that she's in so much pain that's the only thing she can think of doing to me. At that moment it was not about punishing me, it was about showing control and making me feel less like an independent young adult. (I find it hypocritical that they are fine with Kayla and Tera finding themselves because they are out of sight, but not me)
So I'm in the kitchen, crying my eyes out, and trying to make sure that they don't hear. I clean myself up (using techniques I've learned over years of keeping them from knowing that I had been crying) and went upstairs for a little while. Long enough to make up the excuse that I was going to clean my room and go downstairs. I was relatively certain that they wouldn't follow me, but you can never be sure. Now here's the concerning part.
I let go while I was downstairs, crying about everything and anything, that kind of crying where your mind is almost blank and repeating itself and you can feel it in your joints. I kept on wondering why my sisters weren't there even though I was in so much pain. How could I be in this house, the house where we grew up, and be in a critical period in time, yet be all alone? I had never felt so alone. It was at that point that I started to think that my life wasn't worth living. That there was nothing left here for me. If every day is going to be a silent struggle for a person who lives to be loud, what's the point? In my parent's eyes I'm worthless, and when they feel like it, or aren't too stressed to notice, I'm the best kid ever.
There just really didn't seem to be much of a reason to be alive anymore, and I had never felt that so clearly as then. The distinct will to stop living, to just stop everything. It had passed by me before, but it was different then. Something had changed either in me, or in the situation, but everything's suddenly become more dire. If I owned a gun and had it in that room, I can honestly say that I probably wouldn't be here anymore. Wouldn't be typing this. But, almost luckily, my mother doesn't allow guns in the house. So I am here, and I am writing this, and I am thinking about all of this critically.
It is kind of silly though, I woke up this morning to find an email from my oldest sister, and a facebook post from my second oldest sister. Things I would have never gotten had I followed through on my urge. I didn't eve hurt myself with my safety pins, though I did dig my thumb nail into my wrist just after my mom pulled her power trip, it's not that bad though. From here on though, I'm not sure what to do about it. I know that if it happens again, the result may be far worse, and that scares me. But I'm afraid that if my mother knew why I'm going through all of this, she would kill herself. Or go into a deep, deep depression. Neither of which I would be able to handle and would make everything worse.
The only thing I can think of to do is call my oldest sister and tell her everything when I have a chance. When there's no one in the home and I can have a few hours or so to talk her through everything. Just to make sure no one overreacts and makes matters worse. That's probably the best thing that I can do at this point before this progresses any farther. Especially since I already know how I'd kill myself given the chance, just need to do a little more research and planning and I could do it. But at this point, I don't know if I want to or not, so all I can do is put it off until I'm sure.
This is a whole new aspect of life that I never thought I'd live through, and with it comes some of the strangest feelings that seem to alienate me from everyone else. I'm hoping I can get past this and move on to a better life, but who knows how many more days of this agony I'll have to go through before that point. Will I even be myself by the end of it? Or will this pressurized environment deform be beyond repair? The scars on my arm will probably stay as a reminder, so maybe I'm already deformed. But am I beyond repair?
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