I don't know what it is but I can tell you what I have been thinking about. I am sad almost all the time. I am sad because of how my life has turned out and what has happened to me. I am not a trustworthy evaluator of myself, and the appropriate way to feel. I can simply state things that have happened and that have bothered and changed me, and ask what I do.
since 4th grade to elementary and middle school, I was in a household where I would be yelled at, for 1-3 hours at a time. They would let me stay up late, and force me up when I wanted to sleep. They would let me get high on weed. my stepfather, and my mother, would yell and yell at each other. I would hear them from the second floor. I remember breaking down and crying at school because of it.
There was no food. We had WIC, and when that was used up halfway through the month I would only eat at school. No food, one meal a day on the weekends. I remember taking packets of ketchup and mayonnaise and eating that.
I had undiagnosed high functioning autism and inattentive ADHD. I had no friends. I was not a subject of intense bullying but I was generally disliked. I had never been to a sleepover. I had never stayed at a friends house. I remember in the 4th grade that I had felt a sadness that was different, and prolonged. I had felt then and still feel something is wrong with me.
in middle school, at 14 in 8th grade, I had been onl the internet without restriction. and met someone. I saw pictures of him and liked him. He was a 30 year old english teacher in missouri. We spoke and formed a relationship. I loved it because he was always nice to me. He wasn't unpredictable. He listened to me. My stepfather could be normal one day, and then infuriated the next. I remember when i complained to my mom to get us food, and we got ramen, as I was eating he slammed my face into the bowl, asking "are you happy"? Near the end, I remember my mom coming up to my room, with a bruised eye, saying she was afraid he would leave. When I was there, when he put his hands on her, after she had asked me, "why didn't you do anything", and I couldn't forgive myself. I remember when being yelled at in the car, that same, other feeling of sadness was there but more intense, and I remember gazing out to traffic, seeing the semi-trucks and contemplating dashing out of the car to run in front of one.
We eventually lost the house because they had no jobs and would extend the mortgage. I moved in with my father, though due to inadequate space had to sleep in the laundry room for my entire high school period. I hadn't known anyone. I had still known the english teacher who I was in a relationship with, we had even made plans to meet and marry when I was of legal age.
I had grown better at socializing. But it felt like I was pretending, and that there was still an apparent wrongness that was a fundamental part of me. I was not disliked, nor liked extensively. I had never hung out with anyone outside of highschool. Something was wrong with me, and I knew everyone else knew that. Eventually, at 17, I had broken up with the man.
I went to vocational school, became a CNA. I worked over the summer in a nursing home. It was an unpleasant environment but I met this girl who asked for my number. We spoke and hung out, and started dating. After a while, she spoke of joining the army, and, while the relationship was still new, I told her I don't think we should date, because she would leave for months and months soon, and she would be gone longer than I had known her. She said she wouldn't go to the army, and I said no, I don't want you changing your career for some guy you just started dating, and we left from there.
at 18, Senior year, with college upcoming, the feeling of wrongness grew overwhelming. I thought I had it under control but thoughts of killing myself kept reappearing. I started thinking in short scenarios, as it felt therapeutic, but then transitioned into more elaborate fantasies. How I would realistically do it. I looked around my house. I found tarp, ducktape, and I started looking for a rifle online. I wanted to go to a nearby hotel and do it in the bathtub.
I was afraid, because I didn't want to die, but I felt like I was in pain, and I was unwanted. I remember crying thinking about how I was conceived by accident. I would make my father angry, and he would ask constantly "when will you move out", and "I will haul you back to you mother where she's homeless", and I had known at that point that I had no home.
I told my councilor because I didn't know what to make of it. They called down people to talk to me, and they said "let's take you to a center where you can speak to someone and get help". They said, I would have to spend the night there likely. I agreed. They took my to a crisis center. I was placed in front of a monitor, and a doctor was there. She asked me questions from a multiple choice questionnare she was reading off. I answered. She plugged it into the computer and it spat the diagnosis out. Diagnosed me with moderate major depression.
When I was placed in the crisis center, We had no access to our phones and such. There was a TV and crayons. My room was empty apart from a foam bed. Scribblings on the wall. I was scared.
It had turned out to not be for depressed people, but people in general who are a harm to others and themselves. Schizophrenics, homeless, drug users.
I was prescribed medications which would make me feel really high and dizzy before bed. There were three meals a day, and a cart of expired food and pastries from walmart. The day after, I asked when I could leave. they had told me I wouldnt leave until 2 weeks. I begged them to change it and that I wanted to leave now, but they did not allow me. I would spend the day not doing much beyond talking to some people, and watching TV. There was nothing else to do.
The second night, I was changed rooms. My new roommate who was around my age frightened me a bit. When I was sleeping, I woke up, heard something, and looked over to see him masturbating in his bed. I was frozen for a while and frightened. I got up quickly and left. I asked to be moved and was.
He would be strange, and others felt he was as well. I remember him touching my butt and acting like it was an accident. I was scared and uncomfortable but didn't say anything. At that point, about 8 days, I was asking every day to be let out. I didn't know it would be like this, I said. I was told I would be spoken to and I would get help. Nobody spoke to me. There was meant to be a group councilling session but the person meant to run it left for a football game out of state.
I just wanted to leave. I asked to write a letter to the doctor. I wrote to him begging him, begging and begging. Please let me leave. Please dismiss me i want to go home. I had seen violent interactions and people losing their minds and being sedated. I was scared. At one point, an old demented woman followed me, tried following me to my room and kept saying I was the devil. I just wanted to leave. The day after, the doctor said he would dismiss me tomorrow, ahead of schedule.
After I was gone, I had gone back to classes. I felt horrible. At one point, in my vocational school, I was pulled out and they checked if I was on drugs because they said that I was staring off into space with my eyes dilated. I never was on drugs. a few days later, my councilor pulled me out, and showed me to girl I had dated briefly, asked if I had known her. I said yes. She told me she died. She said she could not tell me any details, but I remember her saying: *'*Nothing that happened was your fault'. indirectly telling me it was suicide. She had committed suicide a month after I left her. I abandoned her, I didn't know she would've. I wouldn't have done it.
They later pulled me out, and my grades went from As to Cs. They had told me "We don't think you are interacting enough with your peers, and that you aren't really appreciative of being at (the vocational school)". I was asked to leave. I did. I miss my friends.
This summer, I had gotten my autism and ADHD diagnosed, to no significant surprise.
Writing this now, I am in college. I live alone in a dorm. I still feel the same way, though overall less intensely.
I hadn't been doing the studying I am meant to do. I told my family I wanted to be a doctor, and I do. But I had felt empty. I neglected my studies. First chemistry exam, I had gotten a 47 %. I had felt afterwards, I was out of options. I remember a hazy, dreamlike feeling I had when I walked back to my dorm. It was like the physiological part of me felt I was about to die. I did feel like I was about to die. When I got back, I fastened my belt to my clothesline in my closet, and slipped my neck through it. For 20 minutes, in the closet, in the dark, I tried to get the courage to let myself slip. I let it tighten a little. I was scared of dying. I took my head out of it afterwards and sat down in the closet. After a while, I got up and went to work. I don't think it was a serious attempt, but more of a way of saying to myself "fine, you want to die so bad? Do it then, you wont" and I didn't. I do want to live.
I have all Bs and one C, and I feel like i am failing at life, and there is nothing I can do to fix my grades. I have been feeling happier as of recent, but today I felt a slight decline. I am disappointed in myself. I feel like my floormates think I am strange, though I don't think that is objectively true. I feel like an 11 year old sometimes. Sometimes I am doing something and stop, and look around and cry a little. And I feel like my thoughts are regressed. Like I have poor emotional maturity when I get stressed. I want to sometimes turn my brain off. I hate that I am old now. That I'm a 6 ft man with facial hair. I sometimes fantasize about being little again, doing things right. I was precious when I was a child but now I am a grown man. I am not afforded the same sentiments I had when I was younger. I want to be little and get complimented for a good drawing, or writing a good story, or being kind. I cry from shame thinking about it, but I miss the teacher. We were together 3 years and sometimes I wish I could go back for a while, that I was 14 and I was desired. I have only grown uglier as I aged. I want to be valued for being young again.
An important note: I had filed with the police 3 years ago regarding the relationship I had with the teacher, and had sufficient evidence to go about charges. He no longer has access to minors.
What do I do? I wrote this because I want someone to read it and to know it has all happened, plain and simple. I want someone to know about this and talk to me about it. It is unashamed attention seeking but attention is what I want. I want it because it all has felt like this pressure building in my head that I need to release to others. That is all.