WARNING: If this is triggering or you, or someone that you know needs help, visit the resources listed at the end of this post.
These are the following categories that give me a higher risk for suicide.
The worst part is how much of this has been caused directly or indirectly by others, either by what they have done to me or failed to do to help me when I asked or needed help.
Because of how people have treated me, it only adds to the belief that they don’t care if I’m dead or, in some cases, want me to die. That’s a new twist this past year, thanks to the actions of some people who showed no regard for anything but their own image, ways to get attention, and enjoyment of hurting others. Some of them keep playing mind games with me, using others to do so. They won’t even leave me alone but continue to want attention at my expense. Of course, they would rather me die than for them to admit even a small amount of truth, a tiny mistake. That’s just how people are. I’m open, honest, and admit my faults. They won’t. It’s how they can be so nice.
My increased risks for suicide:
Other Mental Health Conditions
Unemployed (work, family, “friends”)
Social Network (work, family, “friends”)
Previous hospitalization for mental illness
Major illness (cancer)
Other Physical Health Conditions
Stress (work, family, “friends”)
Trauma (work, family, “friends”)
Bullying (work, family, “friends”)
Lack of Purpose (work, family, “friends”)
Family Disfunction (parents, siblings)
PTSD (work, family, “friends”)
Social Challenges/“Drama” (work, family, “friends”)
Does anyone reallycare?
Nope . . . and I have enough evidence to know it’s not just paranoia.
Why am I still alive? Partly, it’s to stay alive in spite of all the bad and mean people who’ve hurt me without remorse. (They know who they are, but they don’t care.) Mostly, it’s due to my children, and, on some days, my wife. I don’t think anyone else would care if I were dead. That’s been repeatedly shown this past year, as I was needing more, not less, help.
But, I will go try to find something “productive” to do now, in my imaginary world. It’s the one people make fun of, after they have stuck you there.
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