#its bittersweet turning 20 bc i never thought i would ever get to this point | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

friedpotat0 · 4 years

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its funny because the people that should care about you dont, and the people that shouldnt be bothered to care about you just waste their time over you.

my parents dont know that i cry myself to sleep nearly every night, that i cry on the ride home, or that i wrote a suicide note and plan with full intention to kill myself before 2:30 on tuesday 10/29, they have no idea i think about my own death often or that i plan on killing myself before i turn 30, or how my body shakes every second of the day because everything is distracting or making me immensely nervous. they dont know im frustrated or irritated or that every little thing annoys the fuck out of me or how my paranoia is so bad i always perpetually feel like the entire world is against me, they dont know ive been seeing the counselor since high school and that the psychiatrist bluntly told me i have severe depression with bipolar 2 and prescribed me lamitrogine even though i really disagree with the diagnosis and wished they listened to my concerns about anxiety instead.

people dont know these things bc i dont tell them and i dont want anyone to worry about me. im pretty good at hiding things bc ive been dealing with bad thoughts my whole life. but relentlessly i choose to believe in optimism because i believe in Allah and he is slowly guiding me through this hellscape. i hate crying in front of people, and i especially dont like have any attention on me ever (unless im playing the guitar, then shut up). i dont like being selfish and self absorbed. and i hate dwelling on the past.

its funny when ur own family has absolutely no idea whats going on because when you did tell them, when u were 14, about the suicidal thoughts and anxiety, they yelled at you and called u attention seeking, so u never told them about the weight loss or the scars or the suicide attempts. its so funny that the people that should care about you dont, and really just prize you as a trophy rather than a human being with thoughts and feelings.

instead the counselor, my research supervisor, hell my fucking advisor has more concern over me than my own family and (certain) close “friends” ever will have in their lives. it means a lot to me that im finally getting some love and attention that ive always needed, but never realized it.

its funny how things get so distorted in your mind. you accomplish so much yet you feel like you did so little. i am so fatigued all the time, i already feel old, my skin is so dry and my body is so frail, my back aches endlessly, my lips are chapped and falling off, your feet always hurt, your hands are always cold, my mind is so worn. my nails are so brittle at this point and breaking at the edges. my skin is so fucked up id like to rip it off at this point.

its so weird to me i wrote a whole suicide plan and suicide note and released it with every intention that i will kill myself before the end of the week but yet i am still here, very much alive and (arguably) healthy. with full intention to finish this semester. why? what happened there? and yet i still find myself looking back at that plan constantly with tears running down my face. i have a lot of tears.

i wanted to kill myself since i was very very young. i remember when my mom would scream at me that she wishes i was dead and that i was her burden, nearly every day, and i would go to sleep crying praying to god he would kill me in my sleep. i would suffocate myself when i was 6 just to try to end it all. i barely had any friends growing up and if i did i saw them briefly in school or once every three months at some gathering. rarely did i leave the house or ever get involved in the community, except for the sports my dad would force me into. i had little social interaction, and not many adults in my life to look up to other than my mom. i never felt like her daughter, i felt like i was some sister of hers. i never had a loving maternal figure in my life, save for a few teachers i have had, god bless them. now she only loves me because i can do things for her. when she hit me she didnt love me. when she screamed at me every day she didnt love me. when she told me to kill myself she didnt do that out of love. she doeesnt remember any of these things and claimed i made it up. i feel like im in hell. she had a hard life, to be fair...but i would raise my daughter differently. i would prefer to stay away from the word “burden” when referring to my children.

i have a good life and ill never dispute that ever. i was born with a lot of privilege. so why am i like this? who knows. you feel like your whole life was stolen from you and that you missed so many oppurtunities that you could have taken but every bone in your body screamed “no”. its bittersweet knowing that i am finally getting help but where was this help 6 years ago? how much more could i have accomplished if i had people in my life supporting me? and that i only receive this support recently? i only had two adult figures in my life and they were both my parents, my mom being very emotianally abusive and self centered with the maturity of a 6 year old, and my distant father who barely made any effort to listen to me, both who denies any sign of mental illness or health defects of any sort when the signs were clear.

why are my parents so concerned about my marriage when they should really be concerned about me?

I feel so emotionally stunted, as if i am still 15 years old, becasuse i am finally allowed to leave my damn house. what a life i have lived, so uneventful. never allowed to leave or wear what you want, say what you want, do what you want, because you are a muslim girl. fun is banned in islam, and in my family, apparently. no sense of humor, style, color, everything is so bland and monotonous it makes you want to scream. no passion, no motivation, just the same robotic shit for 20 years. why would i want to live a life like this i ask myself? for the rest of my fucking life? id rather die. at least in hell i can do what i want.

i hate being in my skin. sometimes i hate being in my body too. i am forced to wear mutliple layers of thick makeup every single fucking day for 12-16 hours straight because my skin is that fucking terrible and ugly. i cant imagine being naturally beatiful and having clear skin and then boasting about it, on top of that. its so infuriating. i am so ugly. no one can convince me otherwise. i feel so trapped so trapped no one even knows. no one will ever really understand. i dont expect them to. i want to do so much but i can only do so little. im too frail and weak to do anything. im always so tired, and sad, to make things worse. i wish i had so much potential but i dont. im dead already on the inside, like a rotted tree. what hope is there left.

sometimes i want to leave my hometown without telling anyone and never come back. that would be fun. then i can finally have the freedom i want and the ability to actually explore my life like i should. then i can finally choose my own path to the future. but i am confined in my own mind, in my own house, in my own family, in my own city. fuck this.

now i look ahead to a hopefully brighter future. progress and healing is very slow and gradual. the only growth i should focus on is myself. for the sake of myself. and for the sake of God. i will make it i have to keep saying it, speak it into existence, because if i dont, ill wither away.

#personal #definitely deleting this later #please dont message me or contact me im fine #i just needed to rant #people dont rlly know the tea #im not shading anyone just upset that things r this way

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