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Thread: To the depressed, sucidal, and everone else

  1. #1

    Default To the depressed, sucidal, and everone else

    First and foremost: I am NOT medically licensed in any medical practice, so if you are suffering from ANY problems, you really do need to seek professional help. Onward...

    I have only been here a few months, posting here and there. And I have noticed way too many threads on depression/suicidal thoughts. Now I'm in no way at all saying stop posting them. In fact you may have saved your or other's lives by participating in such threads. What I am saying is that there is a huge problem, and while I know it's not just this community, it amazes me on how many of us battle this terrible condition.

    Here's my story.

    When I was in my late teens, I really messed up my life. I grew up thinking my dad was a hero. He works for a tree company that puts on power, even in the most dangerous weather, and was a volunteer firefighter. Now, as a kid, I never noticed his drinking problem. He drinks on a excessive basis if he is not working. When I was ten he and my mom divorced, and I blamed her. Not that my mom is an innocent one, either. She hails money and is now married to some one older than her own mother, again, $$$$. There relationship has scared me to where it took me 7 years to finally propose to my fiance.

    Now I started drinking at the age of 12. My dad not only allowed it, but encouraged it. I was an all A student until highschool, where I showed up half the time and still had a 3ish gpa. I started experimenting with other drugs. My first being vicotin, followed by "legal" highs, which I will not list because of how dangerous they really are. Then when I was 18 I started smoking cigs and weed.

    What my trouble in my late teens was one of those "legal" highs. And I took wayyyy to much. I took so many my black out started BEFORE I even took it. I woke up in the hospital. My mom took my phone and I'm pretty sure turned it over to the police. She told me she knew I was smoking since I was 14. Remember; I started at 18, which told me she noticed there were underlying problems but basically either ignored them or didn't care. I was in college at this point, and so was my girlfriend. Gas was $4.09 a gallon, and we both worked and went to school. I never saw here. But my family was quick to blame her, even though I hid this from her. They didn't tell her I was in the hospital until a week after.

    My girlfriend broke up with me for months. No contact. And I was treated like a prisoner. I would walk in all the spare time I had while not working just to avoid my family. My mom told me how mad she was that her work found out. Again, not worried about me, worried about her reputation. I basically cut ties with my dad, because my step mom was worried I would start stealing their valuables. I had enough. I got off work early, parked my car in the garage, left it run, shut the door, and turned on pink floydd. Ready for the end. And I didn't care about who I hurt. This wasn't about them, it was about me.

    Minutes in, the garage door opened, and I freaked. Turns out my brother just got off work. So, I put the car in reverse and told him I was just about to move my car. He bought it. Then I realized how my death would effect him. The one who has always been there for me, always listened, was the one who saved my life, and he didn't even know it.

    Is my depression gone? Absolutely not. There are more stress factors like bills, my fiance battling an auto immune disease, and my family, who I resent but choose not to cut them out of my life. I just bite my lip. Hard. Very hard. I have more stories about my family and even how it might relate to my fetish, but that's for another thread.

    I know I know, poor little me rambling right? And I do have a happily ever after: I left home and got back with my gf who is now my fiancee. But every one of you that's struggling right now for reasons that could and probably are worse than mine, your doing something I didn't. YOUR TALKING. Your posting to tons of people online who you know you will never meet and your responding to them. So whether you realize it or not, you are crying for help. And that is not an insult, you should cry for help. This is something we deal with that other people may not acknowledge as a serious condition. It's something that makes you want to disappear, or maybe you want all the others that hurt you or remind you of someone that hurt you to disappear. Please keep talking, keep posting, keep listening. I am telling you right now that not one person here wants you to kill yourself. I am telling you that killing yourself will not help anything. And I am telling you that no matter what's on your mind right now, or whats been haunting you for years, we will all listen. But that's up to you. I can't talk anyone off an edge, because while your up there you have already made the decision, haven't you?

    ... And please, please get help. It's there, but the curtain to the audience can only be pulled open by you. And you will put on the most beautiful show of life you can imagine.

  2. #2


    Very beautifully stated. Thank you for sharing your story. It takes a lot of courage to speak about suicide and depression, but when people open up about it, they find they are far from alone.



    International Association for Suicide Prevention

    To Write Love On Her Arms


  3. #3


    Wonderfully put and kudos to you for your bravery it telling your story.

    My mother told me that "suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem". . . although that doesn't mean much when that problem isn't going away and now you have a handful of pills in your hand. Those white pills seem to be far better listeners than a judgemental family or an overworked doctor who is happy to just write you another prescription.

    But the problem WILL go away and that black cloud WILL break apart. Just need to have the right person who will listen. And SOMEONE WILL listen!

  4. #4


    I would like to add some thoughts from my own experiences that might help some people.
    I was actively suicidal about 4 years ago, as in I kept thinking about suicide and ways that I could accomplish that and there was no way to stop the obsessive thoughts. My wife dragged me to the hospital. I was sure I would never get out and that I would be drugged forever as in...Cuokoo's Nest. It was a lockdown facility. Once there I saw my only option was to reach out myself and accept the help I was offered. Now I realize that getting help, asking for it, is key to recovery. We are social animals, and finding a support group will lead to healing. I should add that for me finding the right medication was also a key, and it took me a long time to be convinced that these psychoactive drugs could be a good thing.
    One thing that kept me going at the darkest times was the knowledge that if I did end my life, whatever issue was driving the depression would not be gone, and I would still have to deal with it, in an afterlife or another earthly life. That seemed like a complete waste and led in great part to the decision to live and not die. If I still had to deal with it there would be no ending. This was my truth at the time..
    How did I know this? From my childhood I knew that we were more than earthly animals that struggled for survival, then died and that was it. I knew that we were a non-physical being having a physical experience, although I did not have that kind of language then. It was just an inner knowing. It was never about religion or belief in anything, just a moment of insight. It took years and years to find the theoretical and scientific underpinnings of that, but that is another story.
    So this is just my truth - I hope that it can be helpful to some.

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