Well, I guess sometimes it is important to tell your truth even if it's to random stranger's on the Internet. To be honest, I do not even know if what I'm going through is depression, or maybe I am just at a point in my life where I no longer have the energy to do anything. Including breathing. The last couple of months have been a blur for me, I honestly believe my soul is dead and this shell of a body that I am working with is slowly decaying and my brain can no longer handle the pain. On the outside, my friends know me as a happy person, on the inside I am in a battle on ways to kill my decaying body because thats how it feels. I honestly do not have a reason for not being able to get out of bed most days or having to cry myself to sleep every night, all I know is that I want it to end. In any way possible even if it means I have to die.
I just hit 30 this year but I struggle a lot with love,finances and my sexuality. I have everything going on for me. A good job that pays way better than my peers and anyone my age but I find myself at the same pit every month. I go on a spending spree, loan out my cash knowing it will never be returned or gift it to " my pals" who disappear when you ask for help. One weekend I spent 80k buying colognes and shoes for a friend then the rest on alcohol.
My problem is I am not able to budget despite the fact that I have spare cash. Each week my side hustle gives me enough cash to spend and take care of my expenses while my day to day job guarantees me a safety net.
I feel numb when it comes to love. I have no feelings.
With sexuality, I feel the pressure to be with someone and have kids and a future together but I live a lie. The image I present conflicts with my inner thoughts. I don't know how people will take me when I come out which I don't think I will.
I had a pretty rough childhood and Its affected me since...well it wasn't that bad and I was able to hide it and just went with the flow you know being the good girl everyone wants me to be.But it got harder as the years went by and I couldn't continue ignoring the foreboding feeling in my gut that I was living a lie and so I guess that's When it really hit. I was fifteen at that time , that was last year and I kind of just withdrew, stopped spending time with people my grades went down so fast and I just stopped communicating with people.During the holidays I would spend all my days in bed listening to music trying to block out the world and all the pain..the fact that my mum passed away and my dad didn't want anything to do with me just sucked a lot and I felt so worthless ...and then I was raped and that made me hate myself even more I couldn't face the world anymore and I couldn't tell anyone about it cause well they threatened me...and the pain just got too much and I started cutting and I can't stop..thats been my life for the past few months ..im now 16 , in form 3 at Kenya high school and I'm lost but the worst thing is that I can't tell anyone about it cause i dont trust anyone anymore...i don't know what to do, help me
I was raised partially with my mum... so there's 1-2-3 things she doesn't understand about me completely.
Because of that reason, all my life since Primary level I have witnessed her do petty things repeatedly in different occasions that don't please me untill collage was over. Today, she's doing the same things but this time round they hurt me so much that I often feel like maybe, just maybe I am not her real child or something like that. Its so painfull that I see no purpose in life.. all she does is hurt me. Most of my plans are failing here and there because she taks ill of them so I never progress in life. been stuck here for the longest! I can't talk more cuz it burns my head... very personal; internet cant give me a shoulder to lean on.
Anyway, I know, the most strong bond should be parent to child but I feel like am forcing myself on her. She doesn't care at all.... am that person when am sick, if am not consious is when people around will admit am sick. Been talking to few I trust but no one seem to care that deppression is eating me out. Any help how to handle her?
Here to help my fellow people.
I was diagnosed with Paranoid Schizophrenia in 2014 and I've been on meds since then. The problem is that the meds cause depression too. I'm on fluanxol injections.
Am a young woman on my early 20s, stuck in life, Am an orphan, no parents, so I've been living with relatives. If you ask me what's the toughest thing in life I'll tell you is having no parents, being an orphan. My whole life I've been living with relatives, bing thrown out, you move to the next one and so forth, I've been dealing with heavy depression and stress. I am alone in this world and have no one to turn to. Its so hard to stay motivated and be in school cause I feel I have no purpose in life and I should just die. I always wonder if there are other people who've had a life like mine. Locking yourself up and crying to sleep everyday. Feeling like its not worth living.
Its just a sad life
As I left my house that day for the 26th week clinic, I was exited. It would be the only clinic my husband would miss, he had a client that he was attending to. I prepared, put on a white body can dress and drove to the hospital. It was all fine, the student nurse at Nazareth hospital told me that there was a bit of Protein in urine, but it shouldn't be an alarm, it will be dealt with. I was sent to the examination room, the baby was fine and very playful, when my blood pressure readings were taken, it read 152/90 so the nurse told me to relax for a while and have the readings taken again, this time it was 154/94. I was sent to the doctor. He looked at me and told me "we may have to admit you" , I was shaking, uncertain, so I called my husband to bring me some clothes to change.
I was immediately put on the drip in the labour ward. I could see the nurses conversing in low tones, I was put on magnesium drip for the whole night, but nothing changed, so I was transferred to another hospital of my choice, but still it dint work. I was then returned to Kenyatta hospital. All I remember is ambulance sirens and Er doctors receiving me with more magnesium drips. I was diagnosed with Severe pre-eclampsia. They called it PET, or so I heard.
All they kept saying is "dear, we are going to have to extract the foetus, but we won't lie that it will live". I had cried to that phrase too much that it soon became flat. I was so emotionless. I was ready for death itself. In fact when I was given the Theatre consent to sign, I felt as though I was signing away my childs life. This gave me no reason to live. I felt like a failed mother. I remember the Theatre lights, the oxygen masks, and the beautiful cry of my Precious angel, yes, I named her Precious, I still have her birth notification, but I only held it for two days, because my precious decided to rest, she was done with the beeping ICU machines，choking tubes, endless injections, resuscitations, the artificial heat and cold. She could tell she wasn't listening to mummy and daddy's bad voice. She could tell that she wasn't in the warm protection of my ribs. So she gave up. She waited for the 9.00pm nursery visit and in my absence, she just left. I remember my last conversation with her, which she just responded with a deep breath. She just lay there, as tiny as she was. 800g but she could grip my finger. I just broke down, my heart shuttered when the doctor confirmed that there was no pulse.
For one moment my world stopped. In the cold night. 12th of July, 2018. A year I had believed was of Restoration, came shutting down. I didn't believe it until the nurse went back to her drawer and pulled out a "Notification for death" book. She registered my baby , cause of death, Respiratory Distress and had me countersign.
It has been a trying time. I never for one second in life thought that I would ever visit a morgue in pursuit of a burial permit. I didn't. I just left. I was assured that precious would get a good sendoff. I know so, I feel it. I went in with too much hope. Someone said that hope can be dangerous. I joined preemies groups, all of whom had survived. Never for one instance did anyone prepare me for otherwise. None of those groups had mothers of preemies who had gone to be with the Lord.
Now am left with memories, the clothes I had bought, ultrasound reports and even photos of her in the nursery bed. Hoping that one day I will get over the pain. But as Elizabeth Kubler puts it, the reality is that you will grieve forever. You will not get over the loss of a loved one, you will learn to live with it. You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again but, you will never be same, nor would you want to.
Sometimes I look at this girl in my office and I head out to her car and masturbate on it. Some times I want to follow her home and, well, you know the rest. I'm I normal? Should I seek help?