Fish On Land
Member
- Oct 9, 2024
- 10
I hate that I'm such a coward and harm the people I love most. I've been pondering suicide for a long time, but too scared to actually look into it. I break down on the smallest of things and my mood swings are the worst. One moment I'm happy, and ten minutes later, I'm wailing in my room, smothered by blankets, sometimes not even with a reason. Even when I am happy, I know it's fleeting, and in the grand scheme of things, it's meaningless. When someone praises me, I wonder how long it will be before they're disappointed in me or I will hate them for how wrong they are about me even if I know they mean well. When I break down in tears, people come to offer comfort. They are usually relatives, family, or my peers who actually care, but that only makes me feel worse. Whatever consolation or support they can offer, they can't fix my depression and anxiety so they'll only be wasting their time and energy on me instead. Then I feel terrible for dragging them down which makes me feel even worse. They have their own life and don't need an extra burden on top of their plate.
I have a little sister who is an absolute angel. She's always there for me, and no one knows me better than her. My parents know about my depression but don't understand it well. I don't tell them much because I don't feel safe doing so. As such, I only talk about it in depth to my sister, but recently, I've been leaving her out of most of my breakdowns because who wants to listen to someone talking about how they wish they were dead constantly. However, sometimes, I lack self-control and weigh her down. I let out all the nasty thoughts in my head, telling her again and again that I wish I were dead. I'm so sorry that she has to deal with me. She tells me that she's glad that I'm telling her all this, but I'm so disappointed in myself. Every time, I make her cry as I tell her how much I hate myself, how much I want to die, and how much I wish I were someone else.
I'm currently infuriated with myself. Since I was a kid, I cry over the smallest agitation, and it's embarrassing. Today, my mom--please don't laugh--scolded me for being an adult and still letting my relatives wash my clothes. She says my relatives are busy enough as they are, and since they're letting me live in their house while I'm visiting, it's the least I could do. I live in America, but am visiting China 9 years after my previous visit. It's been a while. My dad told me to have fun: eat the food I want, buy the things I want, and do the things I want. He believes my depression will naturally go away if I do these three things and change my surroundings once in a while, instead of studying and looking at the screen all day. He's really nice and told my relatives to take me out to do stuff. As a result, I got to do a lot of things I've never done--buy souvenirs, go to an arcade, look at fictional character merch, etc. These are probably small things but my relationship with my parents is a little rough, especially with my mom, so I'm too scared to tell them what I actually like if it might come off as childish. Even if it's a cup of boba, I feel like I'm asking too much of them because they work so much, and I'm so worthless. My energy level is nonexistent; even leaving the house for small things like eating at a restaurant can make me feel tired, so going out is inconvenient. Despite it all, some places in China was really fun and my relatives are amazing hosts. My mom's words sink in and I feel terrible for making them do more than they have to. The need to apologize for my existence causes me to break down in tears. I've made someone else suffer because of my actions, and to make it worse, I was full on wailing rather than the quiet cries I usually do. My relatives are knocking at my door asking me if I'm okay and if they could come in. The door is locked and I'm curled up pathetically in a ball next to an evergrowing pile of used tissue. I don't answer for a long time because I know I can't form words properly without sounding weak with hiccups and sniffles in between. When I recover enough, I tell them that I'm okay and need some times alone and thankfully they listen. Still, I feel bad that they have to witness me being so unruly and that I locked them out of a room in their own house because I can't get my shit together. I heard my sister cry outside the door because she knows I'm sad, and a few days prior, I talked about ways I might commit my suicide attempts and babbled with my self-hate talk. Everyone suffers and struggles but I'm stumbling over the smallest pebbles like an idiot.
Eating is such a chore sometimes and I feel guilty about the food I eat. It's a reminder my parents do so much to keep me alive-feed me, give me clothes-and I don't do enough in return. My anxiety makes talking to people difficult even though I know English much better than my parents. I stay up super later, especially when I feel depressed, and wake up super late, sometimes skipping the breakfast my mom made. No matter how many hours of sleep I get, I still look tired and distracted. Friends, relatives, therapist and family have pointed out that I'm always so tired and without energy at least once. When I was in a pub with my uncle, he told me I should take after my sister and learn to have fun since I'm only young for so long and not focus so much on school and the future. Older adults keep telling me to enjoy life now because I will only have more responsibilities and hardships in the future and I have to enjoy my youth while it lasts. I understand them meaning and intention of that advice but it makes me feel worse about living. Why am I fighting the battle to live if it becomes worse and not better? He's suggested that I just take some money and go out on my own because I'm more than old enough and that's what most young adults do. Most of the older teenagers much younger than me already go out on their own. I think I'd like that because I won't have to worry about what my parents think and can just be myself. However, being alone somewhere unfamiliar with people spikes my anxiety. I have to monologue what I'll say ahead of time or else I'll panic and not speak what I meant to say. It helps to have someone next to me so I don't leave when I get uncomfortable which is guaranteed to happen but that's tricky. I only have a single friend and she's also introverted and stays home often so I'm not sure. Maybe I could bring my sister. I'm more than comfortable around her and think she could use a break from home too.
I'm deathly afraid of pain and the unknown, but I hope one day, I'll be tired enough to not care. If I can't muster up the courage, then in the future, maybe desperation, anger, or apathy can pull me up instead. I been getting worse with each year so perhaps I won't care as much. I prefer something less painful but I'm just glad that I never learned how to swim. Bodies of water are plentiful, but drowning scares me. When I was little at a water park, I almost drowned because I was too dumb to realize that the floaty couldn't hold my weight so I went too deep. When I sunk into the water and couldn't get up, I drowned for a couple second until my flailing arm touched a stranger who pulled me up and rescued me to my parent. Quite a bit of pool water went through my mouth and nose but nothing else. Whenever I choke on drinking water, I'm reminded how painful drowning feels and it sucks.
At this point, I'm just rambling but thank you for reading. I'm a slow thinker so writing takes a long time. After typing furiously and letting the time pass, I feel a lot better. Too tired right now but don't want to sleep. Hopefully my thoughts were somewhat organized and coherent. My eyes are a little dry and puffy after crying which drains my energy as well. I think I'll apologize to my relatives and sister for making them worry tomorrow, start washing the clothes, and figure it out from there.
I have a little sister who is an absolute angel. She's always there for me, and no one knows me better than her. My parents know about my depression but don't understand it well. I don't tell them much because I don't feel safe doing so. As such, I only talk about it in depth to my sister, but recently, I've been leaving her out of most of my breakdowns because who wants to listen to someone talking about how they wish they were dead constantly. However, sometimes, I lack self-control and weigh her down. I let out all the nasty thoughts in my head, telling her again and again that I wish I were dead. I'm so sorry that she has to deal with me. She tells me that she's glad that I'm telling her all this, but I'm so disappointed in myself. Every time, I make her cry as I tell her how much I hate myself, how much I want to die, and how much I wish I were someone else.
I'm currently infuriated with myself. Since I was a kid, I cry over the smallest agitation, and it's embarrassing. Today, my mom--please don't laugh--scolded me for being an adult and still letting my relatives wash my clothes. She says my relatives are busy enough as they are, and since they're letting me live in their house while I'm visiting, it's the least I could do. I live in America, but am visiting China 9 years after my previous visit. It's been a while. My dad told me to have fun: eat the food I want, buy the things I want, and do the things I want. He believes my depression will naturally go away if I do these three things and change my surroundings once in a while, instead of studying and looking at the screen all day. He's really nice and told my relatives to take me out to do stuff. As a result, I got to do a lot of things I've never done--buy souvenirs, go to an arcade, look at fictional character merch, etc. These are probably small things but my relationship with my parents is a little rough, especially with my mom, so I'm too scared to tell them what I actually like if it might come off as childish. Even if it's a cup of boba, I feel like I'm asking too much of them because they work so much, and I'm so worthless. My energy level is nonexistent; even leaving the house for small things like eating at a restaurant can make me feel tired, so going out is inconvenient. Despite it all, some places in China was really fun and my relatives are amazing hosts. My mom's words sink in and I feel terrible for making them do more than they have to. The need to apologize for my existence causes me to break down in tears. I've made someone else suffer because of my actions, and to make it worse, I was full on wailing rather than the quiet cries I usually do. My relatives are knocking at my door asking me if I'm okay and if they could come in. The door is locked and I'm curled up pathetically in a ball next to an evergrowing pile of used tissue. I don't answer for a long time because I know I can't form words properly without sounding weak with hiccups and sniffles in between. When I recover enough, I tell them that I'm okay and need some times alone and thankfully they listen. Still, I feel bad that they have to witness me being so unruly and that I locked them out of a room in their own house because I can't get my shit together. I heard my sister cry outside the door because she knows I'm sad, and a few days prior, I talked about ways I might commit my suicide attempts and babbled with my self-hate talk. Everyone suffers and struggles but I'm stumbling over the smallest pebbles like an idiot.
Eating is such a chore sometimes and I feel guilty about the food I eat. It's a reminder my parents do so much to keep me alive-feed me, give me clothes-and I don't do enough in return. My anxiety makes talking to people difficult even though I know English much better than my parents. I stay up super later, especially when I feel depressed, and wake up super late, sometimes skipping the breakfast my mom made. No matter how many hours of sleep I get, I still look tired and distracted. Friends, relatives, therapist and family have pointed out that I'm always so tired and without energy at least once. When I was in a pub with my uncle, he told me I should take after my sister and learn to have fun since I'm only young for so long and not focus so much on school and the future. Older adults keep telling me to enjoy life now because I will only have more responsibilities and hardships in the future and I have to enjoy my youth while it lasts. I understand them meaning and intention of that advice but it makes me feel worse about living. Why am I fighting the battle to live if it becomes worse and not better? He's suggested that I just take some money and go out on my own because I'm more than old enough and that's what most young adults do. Most of the older teenagers much younger than me already go out on their own. I think I'd like that because I won't have to worry about what my parents think and can just be myself. However, being alone somewhere unfamiliar with people spikes my anxiety. I have to monologue what I'll say ahead of time or else I'll panic and not speak what I meant to say. It helps to have someone next to me so I don't leave when I get uncomfortable which is guaranteed to happen but that's tricky. I only have a single friend and she's also introverted and stays home often so I'm not sure. Maybe I could bring my sister. I'm more than comfortable around her and think she could use a break from home too.
I'm deathly afraid of pain and the unknown, but I hope one day, I'll be tired enough to not care. If I can't muster up the courage, then in the future, maybe desperation, anger, or apathy can pull me up instead. I been getting worse with each year so perhaps I won't care as much. I prefer something less painful but I'm just glad that I never learned how to swim. Bodies of water are plentiful, but drowning scares me. When I was little at a water park, I almost drowned because I was too dumb to realize that the floaty couldn't hold my weight so I went too deep. When I sunk into the water and couldn't get up, I drowned for a couple second until my flailing arm touched a stranger who pulled me up and rescued me to my parent. Quite a bit of pool water went through my mouth and nose but nothing else. Whenever I choke on drinking water, I'm reminded how painful drowning feels and it sucks.
At this point, I'm just rambling but thank you for reading. I'm a slow thinker so writing takes a long time. After typing furiously and letting the time pass, I feel a lot better. Too tired right now but don't want to sleep. Hopefully my thoughts were somewhat organized and coherent. My eyes are a little dry and puffy after crying which drains my energy as well. I think I'll apologize to my relatives and sister for making them worry tomorrow, start washing the clothes, and figure it out from there.
