I've been terribly sad lately. Like most of this generation I make jokes about wanting to die and like most of this generation I wish I did.
I haven't felt this way in a long time. In my younger days I was anxiety ridden, troubled and unsure of who I was and it made me emotional. My family says I am the angry on of the family (this includes my father who for most of my childhood drank and beat us.) I never felt like I was the angry or sad child. I was bullied a lot and didn't have a lot of friends and being anywhere new made me so nervous I would curl up into a ball and be sick, but I felt like a happy child.
Middle school the bullies got worse, I was physically getting hurt now and people lying/spreading rumors about me to the point where police where involved. I still never felt I was a sad child. I saw kids at school who would cry and scream and cut themselves and I was never like that. I would just be a nervous little freak who every now and them have a good cry. I didn't know why people bullied me, I was just being me and not hurting anyone but for some reason there was always someone trying to start something, trying to hurt me.
What they said never hurt me, they were never clever. They're punches or kicks never hurt for long, retribution always made it better. For every fractured or dislocated bone I received, they got much worse. What hurt was just their blind malicious intent. I never understood how people could hate something or someone for no reason.
High school was better but I hit puberty late and all of that teen angst and hormones hit me at once. Junior year was the year that everything hurt so much more. Finally realizing why other people hated me. They saw something that I didn't. They saw some weird little gay kid. Which was odd because since I hit puberty so late only close friends and teacher knew definitely what gender I was. People thought I was either a dyke or a flamboyant gay. Jokes on them I was never interested in relationships/sex.
But either way I was still bullied but not nearly much as before. But instead I for some reason hated myself, I hated life. It wasn't body image or my home life, it wasn't the fact that I was queer, it wasn't because I was getting bullied.
I just hated existing. I wished, so desperately wished I could have just vanished. That all memory of me and anything pertaining to me would just be gone. Because I knew my mom would be sad. I didn't want anyone to be sad. I just didn't want to be here.
But I didn't want to kill myself. I've never wanted to kill myself. That's not what I wanted. I wanted to cease to exist.
But there is no other way to achieve that. So in my junior year I decided I would leave. But then I hated myself even more because I had nothing to my name. I wasnt good at school, I dropped out of music because I couldn't focus for the life of me, I had nothing I was good at. Nothing that anyone could say that it was a pity my mom lost me since I was so good at something. So I decided I would at least be a high school graduate.
Then I graduated and my home life got even worse and my mom needed to leave but I couldn't let her go alone because she said she'd be so lonely. So I went with her and I couldnt let her feel so a lone because I love her so much. So I stayed. It wasn't so bad. Being somewhere new made me so nervous I never really left the bedroom my mom and I shared. I rewatched three movies over and over again for almost a year just so I could have something familiar in a place where I couldn't even speak the language.
I got a terrible stomach issue due to the anxiety I had living there but I did not feel like dying. I never spoke to anyone outside of my mom and a few relatives so I wasn't bullied. My mom was happy and that made me happy.
We came back to America and I started working to help us keep the house. It was hard, I mean the working was easy, the social aspect of a workplace was hard. Work is nice, its a routine. Coworkers not so much. For some reason people like to touch me. I do not like being touched. Before this, as far as I could remember only hugged my own mother a handful of times. I remember only hugging my father twice and never hugging my siblings.
People get mad when you can't relate to what they're talking about but they ignore what you're interested in as well. So I was largely ignored until I met my now husband. Then the bullies came back. They were friendly to me at first but they started to talk about me behind my back just because I was dating someone they liked. I was always so nervous because he would go and hang out with these girls who liked him and I never really had anyone who liked me in that way before I was afraid he'd leave me for these girls who had more in common with him.
The anxiety sprang back up, I loved him so much but it's so hard to read him I couldnt tell how much he actually liked me. I still can't tell to this day and we've been together almost eight years. I feel like I love him so much he couldn't possibly love me the same.
So for far too long I had this terrible anxiety where he would leave me. I had finally come to terms with myself but now I'm being bullied for it and people are actively trying to ruin my relationship. It got even worse because for a moment I was voluntarily homeless because my dad tried to hurt me and my family was blaming me. They all said I shouldn't have provoked him when all I did was glare at him when he made fun of me. All I did was glare and he tackled and choked me causing me to hit my head against the tub. I was being bullied at work and at home. I was homeless and our relationship was too new to ask to live with him. I thought he'd finally leave me because who wants to be with a homeless person. I went to the doctor because I was experiencing what I now know were anxiety attacks. She recommended a doctor to me who then recommended another doctor who then diagnosed me with ASD and an anxiety disorder
But things got better. My dad was really trying to quit drinking and our relationship got better. My bullies turned on each other and forgot about me. He told me that he loved me. I got a better job. He moved in with me.
Things got so much better. My dad stopped drinking and finally him and my mom could live in the same house without fear. My anxiety while not completely gone was manageable and as you get older and people mature there are less bullies. There are still some but they're easier to ignore.
Then everyone started dying. My great aunt, my dad, my aunt, my mom's dad all my beloved animals. My dad hit me the worst because I've always loved him. Even when he was his meanest I always loved him so much. He always tried to provide the best for us and if it wasn't for his drinking he would have been the perfect dad. We could have had such a great relationship, he was finally involved in our lives. It's been almost three years since he's passed and it still hurts so much. I didn't get to say goodbye to him or to my aunt and I'll never see them again. They were both so strong.
I don't think I ever recovered from my dad dying. I've been happy, how could I not be? I'm married to the man I love, I have a roof over my head and a job I enjoy. But there's been a deep sadness. It's just been there and I've been ignoring it. But this passed month it's come full force. This passed week it's back. I want to die.
I am just so tired. I don't know why. I'm tired and I'm scared because almost my entire family have clinical depression. I don't want to end up like that. I don't want to take medicine that symptoms that are just as bad as the sickness. I don't want to put my husband through taking care of me more than he already is.
I'm just tired and I want to feel happy. I don't want to wish for death. I don't want to sit here crying for no reason. I can already feel it getting worse.