I'm a Disappointment

*TRIGGER WARNING* Suicide talk and mental health venting

I officially told all 3 sets of grandparents about my most recent suicide attempt and current life struggles. They had me alone and they asked me what's really going on with their grand daughter. I've been pretty much passive about life for 2 years now. So I guess it was time. But I'm 26, I'm an adult, so can I call my grandmothers Dorthy, Terry, and Becky now? No? Okay. I'm doing it anyway. This is my blog, I make the rules.

You thought I just wrote about happy shit, huh? Nope.

My Grandfather grew up Mennonite and farmed his whole life. Country life is what I think of when I think of this set of grandparents; even though my grand mother loves fashion and beauty. She wears fashionable heels at 79 years old, but she married the mountain hermit.

Dorthy; the one I was closest to growing up. She has known about my struggles even if I never put to words (face-to- face) everything that was going on. We both had a consistent relationship with god via the Mormon church. She has heard stories from other family members and knows enough about my mental health to not ask unless I bring it up. She also has 14 other grand kids, and 6 great grand children. But I was the child of the daughter who has always lived the closest. (25 minutes away!) The other two live in Idaho,(2.5K miles away) and the other at least a 5 hours drive south. So it made for many over night stays, church visits, family beach vacations and day on the job when we rented the house next to their work building when I was a kid... We finally went on a walk together last month and I told her everything. She was sad- and hoped I'd get relief one day- but knows this has been a struggle most of my life. She wasn't as receptive as I had hoped.

Her first time with filtered photos.

Becky; is not doing so well her in health. She cried and wished she would out live her grand kids. She is a simple person. The least educated of the 3, but humble. She was a bit upset and told me how much everyone has done for me and to not let them down. I reminded her I don't live for other people and neither should she. It only makes me more disappointed in myself that I'm such a failure and can't just get up, go to work, and pay my own bills and be happy. I'd truly, rather be dead. And I saw her pain. I taught her a lot about mental health that night and she told me how impressed I was with how bright I was. We made no progress on understanding each other and I left her confused and sad.

We had Easter egg hunts every year at this set of grandparents, in their backyard. A few years ago, they made it alcohol related. This set of grandparents is goofy and fun.

Terry- Related by marriage, has always been in my families' life since before I was born. She struggles with her own grief and depression from the loss of her only son a few years ago. She's the hardest in my opinion to talk to, as we spent the least amount of time together growing up and I really dislike her husband (my fathers, father) He's racist, homophobic and mean. He also beat Becky (my fathers- mother) which is what ended their marriage. So naturally I don't go out of my way to call, text or visit this set of grand parents too often. Back to the point. I cried, she teared up, and told me she didn't want to make me upset if talking about it was hard. Her face turned stern when I told her I was raped in April- as if she didn't believe me- she was however more empathetic than the other two about my feelings of worthlessness. I'm not sure how sincere it was, or if my tears just triggered her kindness. It's harder to be stern to those who are crying from pain. She might miss me, but I guarantee you if I was dead they wouldn't be bitching about me not being independent and lazy anymore.

I snap this photo quickly during my last visit. This set of grandparents has always liked the finer things of life and has always been well to do. New vehicles every 18 months, house looks like a catalog, and backed mac and cheese country vibe.

Everyone wants me to stay alive, but no one can tolerate being around me for long periods of time. Isn't that just ironic. Stay alive... but keep your distance from me. "Just learn how to be happy, I don't have the strength to help you." "Do it on your own. like I did." "I'm your friend Kirsten, not your therapist." It's like everyone doesn't realize it's hard to be around myself. It's hard being me, wanting to be me, when II have these thoughts, feelings and actions of constant self harm and destruction. They are foul people. And they can go fuck themselves.

This blog is for raw, real emotions on topics that are hard to swallow. I'm still debating on whether or not to post this heavy of a story yet. But I think it's time.

I'm SICK of everyone telling me what and how I'm suppose to feel. When I'm allowed to die, and how long I'm suppose to live. "You don't feel that way, your brain is just lying to you." No, actually, my brain isn't lying to me. My brain is broken. It doesn't work but these feelings and emotions are every bit as real as happiness and joy. They sadly out number the pleasant ones though. My brain literally doesn't function like yours. It wants to die. And they want me to stay alive and suffer while current treatments- and for the past 15 years, hasn't been working? You all sound like pieces of shit to me. Just wanting me to stay around, suffer for YOUR happiness, only die of "natural causes".... I don't even know what that means anymore.

Do I recommend suicide? Absolutely. Should you listen to me? Fuck no. Seek mental health professionals. Get help.... If you are truly ready to go, I support you getting that peace from YOUR decision. If you live in the United States, unfortunately you will have to die alone. Assisted suicide is not legal. No one is going to hold your hand. When you tell people they just freak out. For my fellow viewers who know the depths of suicidal idealization- I will never tell you that you have to live and continue suffering. I will not guilt you for leaving. You are a grown ass adult. You didn't get a say when you were born, you should at least have a damn say when you leave. Comfort comes to me from people who love me whether I stay or go. Not only if I stay. (Feel free to see my blog titled: "Baby Don't Hurt Me" to read my views on Love)

Love me or hate me. I may not be the handful you signed up for, but I'm the one you got. I'm sure mom regrets me, I know my dad certainly does after living with me for 5 years and finally witnessing mental health and possibly even believing it exists now. I know I need better people in my life, but it's hard to attract them, when I can be so unpleasant and depression keeps me in bed.

This sickness is harsh and getting my thoughts out is a minor relief. I hate having them swirling around in my head only to be lost later and never able to be recalled. I can type faster than I can write pen to paper but things still get jumbled up.

Welcome to your first published Kirsten free-write. I feel lost, unwanted and of little value in our current world, all because I'm such a financial burden. I know many feel this way. And it sucks.