9/18/2021 11:52 PM (Tw: SI, SH)

My mental health is so bad right now. People go to the hospital for being less suicidal than I am. I think about killing myself almost every minute some days. Today is one of those days. Red flags and alarm bells and warning signs are going off everywhere. I know I need help, but getting help is hard.

Most of the therapists I've called either never called me back or won't take my insurance. The one place I know takes my insurance said they'd mail me enrollment paperwork and never did. I haven't had the energy to call back. Phone calls and scheduling things and talking to people is so enormously stressful for me. 

It was so hard for me to call them in the first place, I just never called them back. I just need more support I think. Someone to help me with phone calls and stuff, I don't know. But who has the time or would be willing? That person should be my parents but they don't help me. I'm an adult they say, why can't I do it myself?

Often I think about checking myself into the hospital. I know logically that's what I should do since it's gotten so bad, but I won't. I can't. The medical bill would ruin my family, and they'd be so mad at me. Plus I can't do a hospital stay. I'm quite literally addicted to my phone and the internet, and I drive my friend to work every day. If I go inpatient for awhile, who would drive him to work?

I also don't see it as a real emergency. It's not bad enough to go to the hospital. I know I won't actually kill myself. I won't kill myself because I'm so scared to die. I know if Hell exists I'm going there. I did a horrible irredeemable thing once, and I know for a fact not even God could forgive me or save me. If Hell isn't real then it's probably just nothing, and that scares me too. I know I won't mind when I'm actually dead because I won't know I'm dead, but I like being conscious...sort of.

I'm not ready for my life to end. I want to live but it just keeps getting worse and worse. I know I deserve it for the horrible thing I did but it still hurts. I still wish it would stop. I wish I had the strength to kill myself already. I don't think it's getting better for me.

I keep sticking around because I'm scared to die, and because deep down I hope maybe I can get better and have a good life. But nothing brings me joy. I care about nothing and no one. Any small happiness I get always gets taken away from me somehow. I feel like a ghost of a person, an empty shell. A wisp, like I'll just dissipate into nothing any day now.

I just wish someone would help me. I know I need to do it myself, help myself. No one can fix me or save me. But I can't do it myself. I can't. I'm falling apart in front of everyone and no one is doing anything. Especially my family. They see the obvious signs and choose to ignore them.

When I'm irritable or I get too sad to shower I'm just a bitch with body odor. When I've been laying in bed in a depressive haze for days on end, my grandmother peaks her head into my room. "Are you okay? Are you sick?" she asks. No Mamaw, I'm not sick. I don't bother saying I'm depressed. She would just tell me to get over it, everyone feels like that, or something else horrible.

I don't know how I keep going on like this to be honest. I keep thinking surely I'll get lucky and just die one day, in an accident or something, and I won't have to kill myself. Surely I'll die any day now, I'm in so much pain, I don't know why I am still alive. How am I still breathing when every breath is a chore?

This is terrible, but sometimes I contemplate "faking" a suicide attempt. Using a method I know probably won't kill me but will make me sick enough to go to the hospital. Maybe then people would take me seriously and get me help. Maybe that would be the wake up call.

But I couldn't handle the embarrassment. And again, there's the bills. And in all honesty, it probably wouldn't work. Not for my parents anyway. When Mamaw found out I was cutting myself the first time she wasn't sympathetic, she didn't care. She was just angry and yelled at me. Why was I so sad, she demanded? She'd given me a great life.

I honestly wouldn't even feel guilty about faking an attempt. Not if it actually worked and got me help, anyway. But I won't, don't worry. Or only as a last resort, if it's between that and actually killing myself.

I can probably hang on a bit longer but I don't know how long. Every time I think I can't get closer to my breaking point I do. The tension is building and if I snap before I can fix it it's going to be bad.

The worst part is my life actually isn't all that bad. Most of my friends have way worse issues than me. And I know I shouldn't invalidate my own struggles or whatever, blah blah blah, and I do truly believe that, but it's obviously easier said than done. Everyone's struggles are valid...except mine lol.

Anyway let me know if you see this and actually give a shit. Clearly I'm desperate for attention since I'm posting this on the internet.