I know I haven’t posted in a while, but a lot has happened in my life over the past three months. My world changed drastically about three months ago. Before I delve into what happened, let me give you some backstory.
Growing up was challenging in some aspects, even though I had everything I wanted and needed. I had a loving, caring family and enjoyed school for the social aspects, art class, and a few other subjects. Our house was located near other kids, so I always had people to play with, as well as my Legos, toys, and games. However, beneath the surface, I was dealing with a lot. I had anger issues, a fear of dogs and storms, and hidden depression. I often cried myself to sleep and thought about ending my life, writing notes that I would hide. I wore a mask, telling people what they wanted to hear. Despite seeing many doctors for my anger and other issues, I never brought up my depression. It was my own secret burden.
Fast forward a bit, and anxiety entered my life, while the depression remained. I talked to a few people and posted semi-cryptic messages online about my depression, a cry for help. People reached out to my parents, and I began to slowly open up about my struggles. Over the past seven years, I saw several doctors for my depression; some helped, some made it worse. My anxiety was social, making it hard to meet new people and go to new places, something I still struggle with at times.
Now, let's talk about how my life changed three months ago. It was the end of the week (Thursday-Sunday), and my mind was descending into a very dark place. I struggled with my thoughts and feelings, and posted them on Clubhouse, changing my bio to reflect my despair. I even looked up ways to end everything, as I had been contemplating it for over 20 years. As my mind grew darker, someone reached out to my family, saying I wanted to hurt myself. People started reaching out to me, offering help, but in my state, I perceived their concern as attacks and pushed them away.
On that Saturday, my dad tried to snap me out of it. I went to sleep, and by Sunday, while watching a movie and relaxing, something in me decided it was time. I wrote a note and then went into the garage, put my head into a rope, sat there for a few minutes, but then put everything away and sat down to think. Since I was home alone, I looked up my bank balance, wrote a check for that amount, and made a post on social media saying I wanted to sell and give away everything I owned. Some people did not see the cry for help in my message, but most did. When my dad came home, I handed him the check and told him I wanted gun lessons to end my life.
After that, I finally gave in to his insistence on going to the hospital. As we were driving, all I could say was “drive to the bridge” over and over again. I spent a week in the hospital, which was an alright experience for the most part, except for the last day when they brought in some interesting people. I can share more about that experience if you’re interested.
During my time in the hospital and the following weeks, my mind slowly started to heal. My parents and I have been researching and finding programs and support for me, including getting an autism test. We found a paper indicating I had Asperger's years ago, but my parents never received the diagnosis. In the next few weeks, I will be tested to confirm this and figure out the next steps, as some programs don't have resources for autism.
I know I am an unusual person and likely on the spectrum, as I believe everyone is, to some extent. The reason I wanted to end everything was due to my internal struggles, not external factors. I have no clear direction or path in life, few real-life friends, and a sense of confusion about my future. I have goals and ideas but feel overwhelmed by the need to figure things out immediately, despite feeling both young and old at the same time. (By the way, I am seeing a therapist now.)
To add another layer to my journey, I met a girl in the hospital who has changed my life in many ways, sometimes adding to my anxiety and feeling overwhelmed. I haven't touched a canvas or paint in over two months; my new obsession is vintage photos. Photography still brings in some money, and I am trying to resell items and do odd jobs while figuring out more about myself. My art hasn't been selling as well as my photography, leading to thoughts of destroying it all, but maybe the spark to paint will return.
So, yes, a lot has happened and is still happening in my life. Thank you for taking the time to read my story.
