Post hopelessness (trigger warning: suicide, medical trauma, hopelessness, no closure, potential brain damage)

TW: Post hopelessness (trigger warning: suicide, medical trauma, hopelessness, no closure, potential brain damage)

Obligatory I'm not currently at risk of suicide. Posted here rather than "something's not right" as I'm not looking for/interested in assistance / guidance / etc. Feel free to move if necessary.

I will also note here I encourage anyone who's at potential risk of suicide to avoid reading this entirely.

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I couldn't tell you what it is that's screwed up in my mind, despite being medicated several times for several conditions I was never diagnosed with. It started young and it's gotten worse over time. On one side of the family there's a history of BPD, on the other side of the family there's a history of ADHD, and bipolar. Both sides have a history of anxiety, depression and substance abuse. Both sides of the family have a history of suicide and suicide attempts.

As a kid mum taught me all the coping strategies she knew, like the progressive muscle one and some counting and breathing techniques, at the time they were mostly because I couldn't sleep but she got them from her own treatment, and I used them once I started having bigger mental health issues.

I engaged as much as I could with mental health services as a teenager, my father put a lot of effort into giving me access to these things. He'd work shiftwork all night and still get home and take me to headspace and stuff like that. They'd ask me questions I didn't know the answer too and give me work sheets, I got angry at them after a while. I felt a lot at that time like I was being lied too and manipulated by the health system. Even now I wonder what exactly they were thinking, I never felt particularly like these people were there to help me and often I felt like they actively wanted to get rid of me, although at the time I was still hopeful that something would work and that I would one day be able to live a better life.

None of it worked, none of it helped. Things got harder, I got angrier, got into drugs and alcohol early, hurt a lot of friends who meant well.

Dad tried harder, he was at a loss, he even took me to a naturopath once, neither of us believe in that stuff but I think between me losing faith in the health system and him not knowing any options he just wanted to give me a chance, whatever it was.

Still nothing gave, I couldn't be bothered with it, I was so tired all the time. I also began to realize that rational or not if I opened up, there was no response I would accept, every response was wrong, made it hurt more and feel more hopeless so I stopped trying to articulate. I isolated myself almost completely, lost track of friends, I didn't have a phone for years and I never got into social media. Eventually I stopped leaving the house for anything other than smokes, alcohol or drugs. My sleep cycle disappeared, I would be up for 30hours and then sleep for 20 the next.

In my isolation I taught myself to do a lot of computer stuff so I could work from home instead of dealing with the dole.

Idk how long it was like that for but one day an old friend had asked for a favor, I didn't really think much of it but when I went to meet him in town I realized I now shook uncontrollably in public and could barely speak. I didn't realize how far I'd gone down the rabbit hole. Most of my old friends going to uni, starting families and I couldn't leave the house sober.

It sort of motivated me a bit, I decided I would go back to my GP and see if I could get booked into a specialist. I got booked in no worries, When I saw him he asked me questions I couldn't answer, and gave me work sheets. I was angry, it's the same crap they gave you at headspace. But all he did was give me more work sheets, this time about "emotional maturity". I just couldn't face him again so I missed the next appointment and he charged me an extra $300 fee for late cancellation.

This confirmed for me everything I already thought, the health system wasn't equipped to handle me, I couldn't be helped and people were either lying or misinformed when they urged me to get help.

I couldn't take it, I had a few attempts at my own life stopped only by instinct kicking in. But this was something I could try and try again until I eventually pushed past my instinct. During this time I did not seek help, I didn't ever leave a note. I didn't want to change anymore, I didn't want to be helped I just wanted to be free and I was sure that were I to share anything, guilt and shame would stop me, the anger and hatred of friends and family would grow even more and life would get even worse.

When I tried the last time, I nearly succeeded, but in the end I survived. I was delirious for days, I lost at least 2 months before and sometime after it happened with only a few memories in between, too much to share here, but memories of my dad during that time were the most distressing.

And then there I was again, still alive but different. But everything's even harder, scarier, harder to open up, harder to talk. All that and my memory is worse, none of any of that has changed, thus the possible brain damage trigger warning.

And so even more years of isolation, more substance abuse. But also more awareness of the way I had treated people in response to their attempts to help, no less anger or hatred, but a lot more shame and a lot more guilt.

Someone close to me struggles, they try to take their own life. They are taken from their home by the CAT team, held against their will at the mental health ward and subjected to ECT over around half a year. It destroys them, they can't drive, can't read, can't derive pleasure anymore, but beyond that they are terrified of the health system, terrified of the government. Too scared to try again, they begin to live like me. I think a lot during this time what might happen to me and my mind where I subjected to that, how much further could I fall?

Covid happened. I had to go out more because of the limits on groceries, but with a mask, sunglasses and headphones I could block out the world and there was some small amount of positive movement for the first time in a good 8+ years.

Then covid lockdown stopped, everything went back to normal. The small gain I had gotten was lost, as soon as the grocery limits went back to normal I again stopped going out as often.

At the beginning of this year I decided I might try one more time, although perhaps the single most irritating thing in my life: ever present public awareness of mental health, I thought maybe the industry would be better too. I cannot trust going directly to my GP, I can't risk doing anything with my real identity in case I too lose my autonomy and get subjected to treatment against my will.

So I go online, I follow every link I can, I sign up to a bunch of peer support websites, my content doesn't pass moderation. I try some of the mental health counseling stuff and get much the same unhelpful advice as I always did but I persist for some time. I email a bunch of people in different positions of the healthcare sector, including even politicians, really anyone who might know anything about how I could get help.

Still nothing, but I keep trying, I'm exercising everyday, I try to build good regime, fix my sleep cycle, try to talk to more people, I try to journal, I used to do digital art sometimes and so I get back into that, I try actively engage in almost everything I've ever tried all at once. But still there is no movement internally, no matter what I do all I end up with is less time in the day, feeling more exhausted.

One day it hits me just how many years I've been fighting this and how much has changed externally, and yet the only change internally has been downward. So I try lifeline, I don't really know what to do at this point, I just want help. I spend an entire day talking to lifeline, literally >10 hours, by the end I'm just begging for a reason to hold on, I know it's not fair to them but I don't know what else to do. The lady I'm talking too tells me she doesn't know, I beg her again and she apologizes, and asks if there's anything else she can do for me and I realize again, more concretely this time that there is no hope. There is no help for me.

I've been misinformed, not everyone can be helped, even if you want help, even if you fight as hard as you can, some people just can't be helped. And that's it, at least for now I don't think I'm going to try anymore. I won't attempt suicide, I'm far to scared of failing, but I simply cannot believe there is a way left for me to try.