Ive not written much since last time.
Mainly because my depression is getting to a stage that i physically want to die. And my anxiety means my train of thought jumps from on stage to another, and i start writing something down, and my mind suddenly goes blank.
I come from the family from hell.
I would describe my family as a cross between the Borgias, and the Wests, and I could go into detail, but i could be incriminating not only myself but also the innocent.
Ive always been told to “shut up!” Dismissed to the point, I believed I was non-existent. I wandered around alone, and had no real friends, i was ghost even then.
Now i am a ghost wandering from temporary accommodation to temporary accommodation as I have currently not got a home. This is all due to a twist of fate where my ‘user’ brother got some idiot ‘knocked up’ and even though i made my life choices not to have kids, suddenly i have to kids to ‘rear’ as we have not to let them go without even if that leaves me up shit creek without a paddle.
And this makes it harder as i cannot cope with change due to my Asperger’s. Yes i need to escape the turmoil In my old home, but i also need the comfort and security of a home, and everyone Is treating me like a orphan right now, and i hate it. I hate feeling singled out, i hate putting people out, hate feeling weak and needy!
Let’s start on why Im currently here. Stuart, my former brother. I say that as if he was my brother he would understand me and know how i work, (i suspect he does, and uses this to push my buttons the right way.) we’ll currently this ‘thing’ is currently looking after my elderly father. My father made a comment of his girlfriend Lynda, (Stuart’s absolute equal, down to the drug taking, anger issues, and total lack of respect for anyone other than herself, even then she has none judging by her slovenly attitude to herself!) and that’s what the comment was about, her laying K’o’d, downstairs, ( according to Stuart, she was unwell as was up all night cleaning after us,) i suspect though it’s the usual, she was wide eyed to the wind on the exotic stuff on gambling websites during the night and zonked out her skull during the daytime. This upsets my father as it depresses him, and now feels he cannot come downstairs as its usually a fucking mess, (this is not the only time she has done this,) Stuart, (and in some ways Lynda,) badly need anger management support as when people talk about them, they tend to rush into ‘blowing their fucking lid’ and take i out on the nearest person, as that was my father, (their meal ticket,) their ire landed on me the weakest link. And to say i don’t take conflict well is an understatement. And the mad psycho bitch stalking of Lynda drove me to thinking my whole world was ending. That i had no way to turn. Thus my dark black mood got my sister to a worried stage that i was contemplating ending my life. To be brutally honest, it would have been so easy to do so, and if it was not for my sister that night phoning for Samaritan help, I’d probably would not be here to write this.
I have contemplated suicide seriously twice In my life. The first experience I was a confused teenager, my life revolved around the judgement of my mother. Stuart, a recurring Influence in these things for me, decided to threaten ‘outing’ me to my mother on my homosexuality. The first experience you have is the whole ground opening up below you. It’s so instantaneous, you have no choice but to be sucked in, and its deep. No one can hear your screams. On a side note, this is why i don’t believe In a heaven and hell, one i have no understanding how a caring ‘father’ can allow his ‘child’ to experience such torture. Two after experiencing it, i can see nothing worse than the hell i experienced. It’s the loneliness and the silence you experience first, as i mentioned i could be screaming at the top of my lungs, but no sound would come out. You feel such a terrible loneliness that nobody can understand or help you. The rest of the world goes through their ‘happy’ life, while you watch In horror the world turning black. Then you contemplate how you will ‘do it.’ With this you work out In your mind which will not cause me much pain. Which will upset my family the least, which is quick. Everything but why am i in such a state that i want to end my pathetic existence.
As i mentioned I attempted several times to end my life, i once thought ending it with tablets, until i heard that you can take a bad reaction and end up violently speaking your stomach up. The last time was death by car or bus. I stood for me ages on the side of the road willing myself to take a step forward. In reality i could have been minutes, but to me it was like the longest hour of my life. You’re in a tunnel and all you can focus on is right in front of you. Stupid thoughts go through your head, like “will this make the papers?” “Will my mum be ashamed?” “What will the driver feel, ending my life?” All though its not that persons fault, that blame is solely on me, they have to live with that image for the rest of their life. I don’t know what eventually stopped me, but i did not feel relief, only shame, and the thought that i still had to face another day.
To be in that situation, you must give up all hope. And although you walk away from suicide, a part of you still dies, to me it was my confidence, security, and my self respect.
The first therapist I spoke to, (as a child it was ingrained into us not to discuss our feelings.) scared me. I was a child. I was believed to be ‘disturbed,’ hence my mother sought help with getting me a child psychologist. The issue was it singled me out, I’d be called away from what friends i had, or called out of class to be ‘hypnotised’ by this strange woman i did not know. This made a very lonely, scared and confused child, subject of the whims of other children, (Who are bastards,) to single out the weak one from the herd and pounce. And they did pounce, to the stage i have nightmares about my childhood to this day. Humans will do everything in their power not to be seen as the weak one, I’ve done it, and join the ‘pack’ to single out the weak one that’s wandering alone. Humans are mostly nasty, and its only the rare exceptions to the rule that show a spark of kindness and understanding. Sadly i cannot include myself in that light.
My second therapist was a long time after, around 30 years after, such as the state i was in after my suicide attempt and my breakdown. The only reason i went was i was such a vegetable I was useless to the people around me and myself. I was getting on well with this person, but two things sent alarm bells running in my head. I don’t do well with strangers, and it takes me a while to open up. She also compared me and my mum with the situation of Billy Bibbit and his mum in ‘one flew over the cuckoo’s nest,’ which would make Stuart, Nurse Ratched! For those who don’t know the plot, Billy has a ‘oedipus’ relationship with his mother, not in a sexual way, but sees her as his moral guardian, to the state that he’s sexually repressed, and in a ‘nut house’ he has feelings for a prostitute, and loses his virginity. Nurse Ratched tells his mother, and with facing the disapproval of loosing his mothers love, kill’s himself quite violently. How close this got to my actual reality shocked me. When my mum died, another little sliver of me died. My security, with my mother there i had someone to hold my hand, someone to fight my battles. I even had my own ‘Billy’ moment when Stuart tried to out me. I have yet to come to terms with her loss. Partly as denial has kicked In. We weren’t talking you see, usual in my house. We fight, sulk, then one of us would give in. It was over this caravan i’m currently banished to. And again weirdly over Stuart and his family. We were fighting over where my clothes down here were to be allocated, and how i was taking up too much room, when the cupboards, drawers could be used to store Stuart and his family’s shit. We would eventually make up, but I didn’t get the chance, my last words to her were the Clichéd “don’t you die on me!” I never got to see her dead, I refused, i never got to her funeral as i didn’t want to make a scene, also i was to frightened to acknowledge her being dead. To me, all she has done is metamorphosed into a voice in my head, the usual being critical of my actions.
My 3rd therapist again was spot on saying i was living in a ‘toxic environment,’ we were getting a few things sorted, when two things happed, the global pandemic and the sad passing of my mother just after my sessions finished. Time has always been a bastard for me.
And then there is my sister Carol.
Not only does she have to cope with life, her own autistic kids, dealing with benefit bastards trying to deny her support. She has health issues too that worry the shit out of me. She now has to deal with me on top of all this. And i am worried I’ve planted the mantle of my protector from my mother to her. She doesn’t deserve that. She has been a life saver to me over the years. My diagnosis of autism for a start. To now this another breakdown of my shitty life. I don’t think i comprehend the mental anguish that she must suffer having to deal with all this.
Anyway, I’m loosing my train of thought again!
Nighty night!
