Nights - Suicide

May 22, 2020 - 00:00:18 UTC

Trigger Warnings: Rape, Abuse, Gore, Suicide

Description: Some talk about my current usual nights, my feelings about suicide and some issues with my family.





Aren't nights weird? They used to be my favorite time of every day.

When it's dark outside, everything is silent, it feels kind of like a different world.

I used to really like that. Or rather, appreciate it. Loud sounds are something I can handle really badly. Scares me to hell. It's not loud at all where we live now. But still. Nights are special.


But not anymore...

Nowadays nights have turned into living hell. I'm not entirely sure why.

I get attacks/breakdowns that are the worst I've ever had, every single night  really.

I'm used to hearing voices, seeing  weird things happen. Seeing weird creatures/shadows.(Man,  Schizophrenia is really hard to explain...)

I'm also used  to PTSD attacks giving me flashbacks to scenarios and situations.


I'm as used to to these tings as you can be. I guess.

But these nights are different.

Around 3am ish(our time) it mostly starts. Till then my mind and mental status  goes  from "shit" to "What the absolute fucking living hell".

And then it hits.

You know. Normally I hear  sounds. I hear  and see doors moving. Things move around. All that stuff.

But with these attacks...breakdowns.. I don't know  what they really  are... it's different.


According  to my SO, I just sit there. I stare at a blank space. randomly, it doesn't matter  where I stare at.

I just sit there, maybe cry. Maybe sometimes say something weird.

But I don't react. I'm not at this "world"  or place anymore at all. At least mentally.

I don't remember what happens during these times. At least not much of it.

Sometimes I can  remember single things that happend, that I saw.

These include, for example:

  • I'm standing in a small room  full of bloody  arms+hands. They  move. try to grab me. They don't really pull me. But they try to grab me and hold me.The room is dimly lid in red. At some point a door,  that I either didn't notice or just appeared  opens. A  "manly" Shadowly figure stands in it. I beg them "No, please. I don't  want it... Please no" Or something along that line. And that is it. That's all  that  happens. It drags out. But theres no "boom"  to it.
  • I  also remember this one, kinda. I'm in a very cold, bloody bathtube. In a very dirty and barely lid  bathroom. I sit in it naked. I don't get out? I suddenly get pushed beneath the  surface of it. I panic.  I try to fight. But I just can't get up. But I  don't die. I just... stay in that  state.


Given, these are "stitched" together from pieces I remember to form a somewhat coherent/understandable representation of them. I don't remember as many details as  I put really. but I faintly believe to have seen them.

I don't understand the first one at all. It was the first I could "remember".

I know the man wants to rape me. It's obvious given the context. But what is it about all around it? Where does  that come  from? It sounds  more like  a horror  movie than what a  mind should really  show  you, doesn't it?

The 2nd one is more understandable to me.

I have a lot of flashbacks to occasions where I get drowned in a bathtub.

It happend a lot when I didn't obey what he said. Or I made a mistake. When I resisted or didn't want  to do something. Or when he  was drunk and angry.  It happend nearly every week,  maybe  even more.

I still to this day remember that  very well. Especially  the things afterwards.

He used to sit me into a pretty cold bathtub. It was either filled already or he started filling it while I'm in it.

He just watches me for a bit. Says things I don't fully understand. Then he starts grabbing me.  By my throat, hair. Face, Body.  Where ever he wanted.

Pushes me underwater. Drags me up. Yells  at me.  Repeats.

He used many different methods to torture/punish me. But this was one  of hits favorites. I guess.


I remember  often being left alone afterwards. Him locking the door. And I just sit in the very dark bathroom. It had no  windows. Was pretty "old". I just hear water rushing down the  drain. And pipes. Old rust cranky pipes in the thing walls.  They kinda bent and moved I guess. Always gave away very weird sounds.

I remember this so extremely well. 


And that's where the 2nd one comes  from. I assume.  It would at least makes sense. But I don't get this whole blood thing at all.



After these things are  "over" I kinda to slowly come back to my  senses. But its always very weird. I mostly cry and can't say anything. I just hug my SO who sits next to me every time. Who feels nothing but sadness what it has become now.

After some time I calm down. I feel very empty and like a big void inside me. Or just way more down  than usual and cry and  cry. Mostly till around 11-12.  Then my usual  depressive state is back.


These things are kinda new to me.. I think I have them f or... a Month or 2 now?

Time is really really hard for me  to notice/remember. 

They started kinda  suddenly. Since then  we  tried new medication and other things but meh. Nothing really helps with it.


And to think that nights used to be my favorite time... it's really depressing what  it has  come to.



I also wanted to talk about suicide. The idea came mid writing. I notice  that writing this stuff down makes me really emotional and involved in my thoughts I usually tend to avoid giving a lot of time.


Suicide. A weird thing nowadays at least in my opinion.

You have people jokingly say "Oh fuck X, I'm going to kill myself".

Or people  tell others to "kys" or other things very lightly and  without much thought. Cause it "hits".

I hate that it has  become that. That the topic of  suicide has become so... easy and joked about.

I get it. Some people that suffer from real depression use  these jokes to cope with their real struggle of suicide.

I understand that. But  I think audience and nuance is key with that. But depressed people often  lack that.


But mostly these jokes and attacks have been co-opted by edgy people or just people that try to be funny with a really messed up humor.


It has  become very normal to joke about death and suicide nowadays. For my  generation down to the  new  ones.

It has  been somewhat  normalized.

I feel that  takes away the seriousness of  the topic.


I tried suicide a lot of times. Different ways. 

And what can I say? I'm so much of a human failure  that I can't even do that right. No matter what. Pills, knifes or other things.

Always ended up not dead.  A  lot of times due my SO. But I don't hate  them for it.(sometimes  I do,  but then I'm in a really  dark mindset)


But reading  these lighthearted jokes about wanting  to  die or "kms" jokes....

It feels so much like mocking. Taking pain and suffering and making fun of it, treating it like the topic isn't soul crushing and hard to deal with.

Suicide is a hard topic. I think everyone  who had to deal with serious thoughts about it. Or going  trough attempts can agree.

Or people that lost someone to it.

I've lost people to it. But I barely  talk about it. I envied them  a lot  to be honest.

That they  had pulled it off. While their life was not even as bad as mine. (Yes. I know. It isn't  a competition. Bla bla  bla.)

But I still also felt sad having lost them. I barely talk to anyone about that.


I often still try to  do it myself. But it has become very hard with my SO and someone else whos kinda  now living  with us, having an eye constantly on me. In addition my SO took a lot of precautions that I can't easily do it. At  least not unnoticed. 

But I still think about it and try it to this day. My thoughts of wanting it have just become stronger. But just the  ability to do so has become harder.


A bit ago. I got the message that one of my family members(A brother to be exact) has killed himself.

Good.  I hated him.

My family and I are.. in absolute shambles. After everything came out.(Which I don't want to get into  now)

After a while,  they suddenly started to....blame  me for it.

My dad couldn't take it. He  couldn't take  that  he let that happen years and  years in his own house. And  my mom was mentally not fully  there anyways.

My dad started to blame me.  And  my  brothers joined in. Telling me  I destroyed the  family with this.

Going as far as saying I should've just kept my goddamn mouth.


....Family is so important right?


No. It isn't. I'm glad my mother skinned herself alive in a schizophrenic episode. I'm glad my brother killed himself.

And I hope every single one of  them at least suffers enough in some way so they feel like they're suffocating on the things they've said to me.




I just wanted  to note  that I'm  sorry if my posts are very.. messy or not easily understandable. Its hard for me to form thought trough sentences. My mind just spins and presents  me so much, it's hard  to catch a thought I want.


Also I know I do typos. Especially double spaces. I try to  remove them but I don't always notice it. It comes from some  weird nerve degradation/misinterpretation from meds/schizophrenia. My hands don't do exactly what I want  and sometimes they just shake a bit.

Sounds weird saying that as a 26 year old "woman". (I hate that term for myself, it makes me feel old. I don't want  to get old. I never wanted to. I wanted  to always die young. I prefer saying I'm a girl, even at my age.)

Oh well. I just  wanted  to explain why my posts  might be full of that stuff. I'm  sorry about it.


Anyways. I hope I somehow managed to write something down thats understandable.


Have a good  night.