First of all, this (dis_integrate) is not my regular LJ name. I made this LJ name seperate from my usual one because I need to speak more freely about my depression issues and don't know where to go or who to talk to. So this LJ name is where I go ahead and let go, fully.
I have been suicidal, on and off, for over 15 years now. I first got suicidal in elementary school, though I didn't know the word "suicide," just knew the feeling of wanting to die. Most of my suicidal feelings have been mild or moderate, but there were a few times when they got bad enough that I tried. (And did a piss-poor job of it, as here I still am...)
My mother is/was mostly at fault for my depression issues. All she is capable of is judging, shrieking, criticizing unwarrantedly, and ruining peoples' lives. She's a very hateful and hurtful person, but good at hiding it a lot. There were others that contributed, but she was also at fault for some of this because when I was a child, it was her duty to protect me. She failed very, very, very miserably at protecting me.
I could go on and on about what she has done, but let it suffice to say that I hold her responsible for what she has done, and leave all that behind me. I am trying, here and now, as an adult (no longer a child under her "rule") to get better from the damage she has done to me. And sometimes my path to getting better includes more thoughts of suicide, just out of frustration and upset with all of it.The last few days have been the kind where I daydream heavily about giving it all up.
Dis_integrate. The opposite of integrating. All those who I am meshed with, the loved ones, friends and family... sometimes I wish I could un-mesh with them so I could go. Because I wouldn't want them to find me in my own home, not now that I am living with family. It would be different if I still lived alone. If I still lived alone, I'd be missed at work and get an (unanswered) phone call, and a black mark go on my attendance record. A few random people would wonder why I didn't answer their phone calls or their emails as promptly as I usually do.
Living with people, if I tried now, I risk being intercepted, and risk psychological harm to the children of the household, whether or not intercepted. I wouldn't want anyone here to have to clean anything, either.
Trying as a teenager... was written off as teen drama (never mind that I've never been the dramatic sort), and was, simply, denied altogether. (And these slashes on my wrist are, what, exactly, then, if I didn't try to commit suicide?) In that horrible woman's world of denial and abuse, I was raised to believe I would be put in a mental hospital for voicing my suicidal feelings, and I carried this over into adulthood. Because of this, I ignored some of my feelings as an adult, and getting some help for myself was quite the ordeal. It still is.
But at least I am trying to get better from my damage... which is where my mother went wrong. She refused to get better from the damage her mother did her, and in fact lied to herself and all around her, claiming she had gotten better from her damage.
"Refuse to hand it down. The legacy stops here." - Melissa Etheridge