A few days ago I relapsed, not on drugs or alchohol. But on self harm. Slicing my skin apart with a cheap piece of metal. It felt so good and I felt so relieved after it honestly. However, I feel ashamed for doing so. Why did I have to relapse? Why couldn't I continue doing well without hurting myself? Why do I get that urge? All these questions running through my mind, it actually drives me to hurt myself more now. I'm getting back into it now and that makes me so guilty. I was doing so so well, it's like a diet. If you eat healthy and then go and eat so many fatty foods, you'll feel guilty. That's kind of what happened to me. I did well without it and then now I relapsed and I feel ashamed about it. Now I'm sitting in my room wallowing in my own guilt and shame. I feel so disgusting for doing all of this, it's just a mess. Last night I had a dream about trying to kill myself involving a train, I didn't manage to die in the dream either, maybe it's a sign? Maybe it's a load of crap. Who knows.
One of the things about depression is poor hygiene. I feel like there's no point to keeping clean, brushing my hair, showering, cleaning my teeth etc. I feel like it's just so much effort to do so, I don't even care how I look anymore. I'm such a mess, I stay in bed all day. I just don't feel the need to clean although I stink and need looked after. I'm being pulled through life by others around me. I don't even want to be here anymore so why can't everyone give up on me already?
I've told my psychiatrist that I haven't cut in 10 weeks. I lied so much to her. I have been cutting so much it's all I have left, It's why im not dead yet, these cheap worthless pieces of metal is all I have left, just fucking metal. They have some meaning to me I'm not sure why
It's been some amount of time since I've posted to my blog, I'm doing fine, I'm just struggling with sexuality and gender issues atm. My cruel thoughts are coming back and I'm used to them already, I honestly need to change meds now. It's been so long since there've made a change to them
I can't fight suicidal thoughts anymore, I've accepted them as an active plan. I'm going to kill myself. I have changed the dead end date closer but I'm not telling anyone when or why. Everyone will be so fucking sorry! I'm filled with so much anger everyday. I'm always numb, it's always numbness or some other horrible emotion! It's never happy or excited. Fuck I want to end it once and for all
I don't think I should be honest with people, they just get upset and hurt and I still feel as bad, nothing helps being honest. I just never have nice things to say, I'm full of negativity. It's better off if I talk to myself really. My suicide attempt is coming up soon anyways, haven't cut or attempt anything in 7 weeks. I have no date set but I'm gonna try it again soon. I can see myself dying or ending up in hospital yet again. I don't want hospital, I don't want life. I have nothing anymore, family doesn't count. Nobody does.
Every day is so tough, it's so much effort to get out of bed, to look after myself, shower, clean my room, feed my pets, get dressed, smile, concentrate. I actually look forward to night time just to use it as an excuse to go to bed and wallow in my self pity
I took a nice black and white photo of the tracks nearby my home before attempting suicide a few months back. It's strange how I still come here and attempt suicide the same way every time..
I feel depressed today, I don't even have a reason tho, no triggers or anything bad happened. It was a decent day but comes crashing down. I'm so tempted to go to the train tracks right now and end it but I know that's gonna make me end up in hospital again. I don't want that. I don't need that. I was discharged then went to train tracks, police caught me and then took me to hospital and treated my wounds. I stayed for 4 more weeks. I was discharged last thursday. Hopefully I'm not admitted again. I'm going to kill myself this summer if things stay the same. I'm thinking of getting blades and cutting really deep. My stash of blades had been found and taken from me. Bastards.
Who Am I?
I’m a 19 year old male that suffers from various mental illnesses.