Off My Chest

830 readers

36 users here now

RULES:

I am looking for mods!

1. The "good" part of our community means we are pro-empathy and anti-harassment. However, we don't intend to make this a "safe space" where everyone has to be a saint. Sh*t happens, and life is messy. That's why we get things off our chests.

2. Bigotry is not allowed. That includes racism, sexism, ableism, homophobia, transphobia, xenophobia, and religiophobia. (If you want to vent about religion, that's fine; but religion is not inherently evil.)

3. Frustrated, venting, or angry posts are still welcome.

4. Posts and comments that bait, threaten, or incite harassment are not allowed.

5. If anyone offers mental, medical, or professional advice here, please remember to take it with a grain of salt. Seek out real professionals if needed.

6. Please put NSFW behind NSFW tags.

founded 1 year ago

MODERATORS

[email protected]

Want the freedom to be able to die (lemm.ee)

submitted 3 weeks ago by [email protected] to c/[email protected]

9 comments fedilink hide all child comments

Posting from a throwaway. [TW contains a little bit of internalised ableism and touches on Suicide and Firearms]

I’m heavily disabled. Like can’t move or get out of bed type disabled. And sometimes lose the ability to communicate.

Anyways most of the time I’m happy to be alive. But the fact I couldn’t kill myself if I wanted to really makes me feel trapped. I take medicines given in a daily pill box, I’m IV fed water and food, and I can’t get out of my bed. There is literally no way for me to end it.

All I’m doing is laying here draining my family’s resources. I love learning, and most of the time that’s enough. But when the pain get’s really bad, or my disease starts to progress or worsen. I just want it to end. And not even having that option, or being able to communicate it, is terrifying. Like I could be stuck in an endless cycle of pain and suffering and not be able to let go even if I wanted it.

At the same time, in better periods I’m glad I’m alive. And if I did have a gun on my bedside table, I can remember more than a dozen moments I’d already have ended it. It’s like I only need to feel suicidal 1% of the time for my life to end if I have access to a weapon, so the other 99% feels glad that I don’t.

I don’t know what I want from this post. But I guess this is my message in a bottle. I needed to get this out there and throw it away.

If you’re here, thanks for reading. I hope your day went well. Peace.

you are viewing a single comment's thread
view the rest of the comments

[–] [email protected] 2 points 3 weeks ago

Thank you for sharing your experience. I think you have a story to tell that people would be interested in- something that could help people in similar situations feel seen or could help caregivers and families understand. In school we read a book called Bed Number 10 about a patient with Guillain Barre and the struggle of being unable to communicate needs to caregivers. It's a reminder that the things we may not think of - a sheet wrinkle or a window shade - can be incredibly important to people with limited mobility or communication. Good book, but it's written in the 80s and so much in healthcare is different now.

I can see how it would be incredibly frustrating to deal with such a huge change while people around you are essentially denying it.