Hey everyone, it's Carrie. I posted something on here a while back (November) and I had some fantastic responses. All of you responded with such sincerity and hopefulness for my health that I regret not ever getting back to all of you that replied, and to say thank you. Though I'd never replied (I wasn't sure what to say; and the honest but lazy part of me hates to admit, that I also let it slip my mind), your honest feedback and heartfelt concern meant a lot. Because of that, I recommended this forum to a friend who also felt in need of communicating with someone. I'm not sure whether she posted on here or not, but truthfully, this is a wonderful place to vent your emotions without being criticized or judged. That's important - especially for people like me - who have these feelings and cannot even begin to tell you why. I posted on here originally assuming I was going to get harsh responses, such as, "You're so young (sixteen) and you have no reason to feel this way," but rather you accepted me and made me feel a little less bitter about
my situation; it made me not beat myself up so much for it. So before I get to the whole point of this post, I want to thank each and every one of you. I assume you of all people know how important it is to have someone to turn to or somewhere to go when you feel like this.
So here I go again. Part Two. I'm posting another topic since the one I posted back in November. I can't tell anyone this, because I don't want to get anyone concerned. I briefly confided in a friend over the Internet, because she'd had a similar situation not too long ago, and she was helpful, in the sense that she understood, but telling her hadn't made me feel less ashamed. I'm ashamed because I hate that I feel this way. I hate that I think these thoughts, and I hate that I can't make them stop. I've become downright infuriated with myself for not understanding it better. I get furious because I feel I, above all people, don't have the right to feel this way. I have a lovely family and I'm healthy as far as I'm aware, and I hate that I take that for granted. The shame I feel from time to time is something I have trouble admitting to as well.
I have no where else to go; I have no one to tell this to, because I don't know what they'd say. They wouldn't understand, first off, and I'm sure they'd get angry with me, like I've been with myself time after time. I always assume they'll say, "You don't have the right to feel that way," or "You should be ashamed of yourself. There are people struggling in life to survive and you have everything going for you, and you think this way." In some way, I think it serves me right. How dare I, is right.
I feel anxiety even admitting this; even in the safe confinement of the Internet, where no one can give me strange looks or I don't have to hear those words, "You should be ashamed". But I've thought about
it. It's hard to say out loud. I haven't been able to. But I've thought of it; yes, I've thought about
. I'd say it's crossed my mind at least once a day now. I imagine my family going on without me, what pain it'd cause them, if they'd be able to move on. If they'd maybe not care as much as I think they would. I've thought about
ways I could do it - not in-depth or in great detail, just a blip of a thought really - and who would find me. How I could do it without someone I love finding me. The thought, the very imagination of someone I love discovering me, frightens me to tears. How that would break my heart into pieces if the tables were turned. But I've thought about
it. I still think about
it. I think about
how what used to make me happy doesn't. What should, doesn't. How I don't see myself ever being fulfilled in the future. How I shouldn't bother trying. But I'm so incredibly ashamed for thinking that way. I can't make the thought stop. I'll look at my dad and think, "How would he think of me after that? Would he ever be able to turn the channel on his TV and come across that TV show we watched together and not think of me?" I'll look at my mom and think, "How could I do this to her?" But I still
it. I know all of this, yet I can't stop thinking it.
I've convinced myself that I'd never do it. That the mere thought of my family carrying on after what I've done to them breaks my heart too much to know I couldn't go along with it, but I used to never think about
it. Especially not as often as I do now. So I think, "I've progressed like this, could I progress to the point I get up the nerve to do it?"
Tonight, when everyone was downstairs, I checked out a Suicide Hotline website. I read some stuff. I thought it'd make me feel less ashamed. It didn't. I wouldn't ever call, because I wouldn't know what to say. I can't talk about
it out loud. I can type it, strangely enough, but I can't say the words. I can't get myself to admit I'm even unhappy, especially not to anyone I love. So I came here. I needed to get it out of my head. I want someone to say, "It's okay. Don't feel ashamed". Not that I want to tell you what to say to me. Say how you feel or what you think.
I'm going to exit out with this: I don't want anyone too concerned about
me. That wasn't my intention. If I neglect to get back to you, don't think I resorted to something. I'm a long ways from that, I think. I just needed someone to know. I needed to get it out of my head for a little while.
And thank you. Tremendously. Thank you for allowing me to have a comfortable environment where I can feel safe. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Post Edited By Moderator (getting by) : 2/2/2011 7:55:17 AM (GMT-7)