I know I'm going to regret this, but what's one more regret in a life filled with them by now. Not like anybody will actually read this.

So here's my sad history, that I can remember up to this point. Adapted from a post I made elsewhere, so if some of the words are in the past tense.....get over it.

So to start.

I was bullied through my childhood at 3 different schools from the age of 5 through to 16. Probably deserved it most of the time. I was a prick, but I was also a scared kid that didn't exactly have a happy home life either.

Once had a lad in school try & stab me with a pair of scissors.

Also had a lad try to set fire to my hair with a lighter.

Used to go home & get either verbally or physically abused by my dad (sometimes he was kind enough to do both).

First tried killing myself at 14 by throwing myself in front of a train but someone I was friends with at the time stopped me.

Next suicide attempt came at 19 via an overdose of cocodamol. Never felt so disappointed as I did when I woke up the next morning.

Tried again via overdose at 22, woke up again the next morning.

Went to the docs twice in 2013 & said I was struggling with depression, first time I got told "go away & come back if it gets any worse".

Second time the doctor actually said "maybe it's just your personality"!!!.

Stopped wasting my time after that until June 2019, when someone convinced me to go back. Turns out they don't like me anyway.

At the time I was (and still are) sleeping between 2-4 hours a night, it'll take me at least an hour to fall asleep & I'll wake up after a few hours, generally to be unable to fall back asleep.

It had got to the point where some nights I wouldn't sleep at all, & was having to take time off work because of it (I work as a machine operator, & one day fell asleep at work). This has been going on for at least 8 years now, I can no longer remember when it first started.

So I tried at my own docs, and got told "well we don't want to prescribe you anything atm, go away & come back if it gets worse". Ended up having to get an appointment at an open surgery to see a doc who listened to me & put me on 15mg Mirtazapine, & got in touch with my docs basically saying "Stop dismissing this guy".

Saw my GP in July 2019 who increased the Mirtazapine to 30mg then up to 45mg in September 2019, despite me saying it wasn't helping me sleep any better nor helping my mood. His recommendation was "Stick with them & try cognitive behaviourial therapy, that should help".

So I made an appointment through my wellbeing to see someone. Had an appointment on Nov 22nd 2019, the outcome of which was the therapist I saw saying they couldn't help me (I was honest about my past suicide attempts & plans to kill myself) & referred me to the local mental health team.

They rejected the referral in December 2019, citing the fact my GP hasn't trialled other medications & the fact I don't plan to kill myself today, tomorrow or even next week as the reason for rejecting the referral, for reasons I won't go into.

Went back to my docs, saw a doctor there who dropped my mirtazapine down to 30mg at my own request then down to 15mg in an attempt to get off them quicker & recommended I give therapy another try. So I rang them again, only to be told they can't make an appointment for me as they've already passed me on to the mental health team. Explained that the mental health team aren't interested because of the above reasons, but nothing doing.

Went backs to my docs in December 2019 & basically said take me off Mirtazapine & try me on something else.

I felt like the mirtazapine was fucking with my head & making me feel worse. I'd been even more moody since being on them, to the point of being insular & uncaring. I'd fucked up friendships with people I like with my mental issues since being on them because I'd be questioning whether we were friends or not at the slightest little thing, something I didn't do before being put on Mirtazapine. I'd also Had a sleep apnea test done at my own request, but apparently my oxygen levels don't drop enough to a point where my brain should be waking me up during the night

I've got 2 plans for ending it one day, and neither of them involve an overdose this time.

My dad tried to kill himself 3 years ago via overdose as he knew his liver was fucked from decades of drinking. Didn't go that well for him, ended up having to watch him spend 2 weeks in a hospital bed slowly slipping away.

Fuck. That.

Chief plan is chucking myself off Beachy Head. It's 530 feet high or so, probably high enough to get the job done & give me chance to flip the world the middle finger one last time & shout "Geronimo" on my way down 🤣

Back up plan is jumping in front of a non stop train.

Been single for the last 2 years nearly. Last relationship before that was a train wreck. Lass way bigger than me (9 stone me, 19 stone her), kinda crazy too. Used to say she'd love to stab someone. Once pinned me up against her fridge, held a knife too me & then poked the tip of it in under my chest (that bit just underneath your chest where you can feel your heartbeat). Got out of there after 6 months.

Last relationship before that was even worse. Got a house with a lass I knew had cheated on me, thinking it'd make everything fixed & wonderful. Spoiler, it didn't. She ended up moving out after 3 months to go live with another lad.

Can't exactly say the relationships I had before that were much better, I've been cheated on & fucked around in more relationships than I haven't. Tried Tinder over the past years but I have a condition.

Basically I'm ugly as fuck, and skinny to boot. I always try to joke and say I've got a face made for sitting on in a dark room. Had some matches but they were either fakes or the conversation went nowhere. POF should stand for plenty of fakes because that's all that is. Pretty much just given up & resigned myself to being alone.

My parents marriage was an unhappy union that should've ended before I was born but instead dragged on for 27 years, with my dad the all domineering ruler of the household. Compromise wasn't in his vocabulary, it was his way or being knocked around for me. I had more back hands than a tennis player during my childhood. Stuck to just verbal abuse with my mum, or so I thought.

A few times when I was a kid, around 5/6 years old my dad used to pin me underneath a mattress, to the point I'd be screaming and almost passing out due to not being able to breath.

Once grounded me when I was 8 for a month, took the lights & TV out of my room because according to him I'd been reading with the light one school night when I should've been asleep. I wasn't, I'd just had the misfortune to get up for a piss at the same time he was coming upstairs. Protested my innocence so that just made him madder. Accused me of lying too him, knocked me around the house & doled out that punishment. I got to spend bonfire night 1998 sat in my window in my dark room, watching as my friends & their parents attended the bonfire at the pub over the road & got to enjoy the fireworks, making happy memories. And then I'd go to school & get verbally & physically bullied every day too. Tried standing up for myself. Once. Got suspended because of it, then got seven bells of shit beaten out of me by dad for getting suspended because he'd have to look after me.

He used to say he wished I'd never been born, and on more than one occasion said I ruin everything. That last statement has always stuck with me as it seems to be true.

I know now that he wasn't the best dad he could've been, his childhood was ruined as he was sexually abused by someone he thought was his Grandfather. Turns out his "sister" was his mum, and the Grandfather was the dad. The 1950's were a fucked up time. Doesn't make it any easier though. It's put me off having kids completely as I don't think I'd make a good Dad.

During the year 2000 & through to May 2002, our next door neighbour & his family as well as another neighbour subjected myself & my parents to some awful behaviour. Insults, tried kicking the door in on more than one occasion (it's horrible not feeling safe in your own home), smashed windows on both the house & the car, damage to the garden, tried to kill us all by pouring cooking oil over the windscreen of the family car. Oh yeah. My dad was doing 70mph on a motorway one weekend when it started to rain, so like any normal driver would do he turned on the wipers. Screen smeared, visibility was half of fuck all. Oil rainwater screen wash = not good. Somehow my dad managed to get the car onto the hard shoulder without us hitting anyone.

My family had the last laugh though. We had to move away from the area in May 2002 due to the continuous harassment by the neighbour's. The father of the family died on xmas day 2002. I don't really believe in karma, but I do believe the universe has a sense of humour. Fuck you & your family Ray Grayson. I hope hell isn't treating you well.

And that's what I can remember. Stuff keeps floating into my head over the years. The business about him pinning me under a mattress didn't surface in my mind until this year.

And for those of you wondering why I didn't refuse, to do so would have meant yet another beating. Try put yourself in my shoes back then, as a scared little kid.

Told my mum about it this year when it floated into my brain, found out he once dragged her down a road by her hair because she was drunk and wanted to knock on people's doors and do carol singing one Xmas before I was born.

What a wonderful father. It does make me wonder at times what else my brain has hidden away from me, for now.

In 2017 my Dad passed away. Years of heavy drinking had caused stage 4 cirrhosis of his liver. He'd known for at least a year that he wasn't well, but hadn't tried to seek medical help for it.

He tried to kill himself via overdose in May 2017, I found him alive after getting the police to knock his door in as I hadn't heard from him for a few days. His house was a state. He hadn't cleaned in months, had essentially been living out of one room. His toilet was blocked, to the point that when I flushed it it backed up into his bath. And we're talking a lot of diarrhea due to the liver damage. Got to spend 2 weeks watching him slowly slip away in a hospital bed, not really able to talk. He passed away on 29/5/2017, 4 days after his 58th birthday. I was 27.

So we arrive at here, today. 10/10/20. I'm working a dead end minimum wage job. Only got my mum left & she's knocking on in years. Smokes & drinks too.

I can count the friends I have left on the fingers of one hand. Unless I'm at work I spend my time alone, usually watching Netflix or gaming. Nobody calls, nobody texts really, nobody invites me to do anything. I even spend my gaming time alone. Realised nobody really cares what I put on Facebook anyways.

Had a bit of a breakdown earlier today, and decided that unless things improve for me, this is probably going to be my last decade or two. Cats are 6 or so now so chances are this'll be their last decade too sadly. I don't have it in me atm to adopt another cat (or three) & commit too another 10-15 years. I'd be 49-54 by then, and I honestly don't see myself making 40-50 the ways things are going.

You could walk in here right now, put a gun to my head & threaten to pull the trigger & I'd struggle to think of a single positive thing about myself.

I'm 5 foot 6, weighing 9 stone 3 (or 129lb). You can see my ribs without me stretching. I'm not muscular, I'm not financially well off, I'm not smart (though I'm probably smarter than I give myself credit for) & I've got all the prospects & potential of your next minimum wage nobody.

I can play guitar & I'm ok at it, better than some but I haven't played properly in years & I'll never be great at it. Occasionally I'll feel good & pick one up & start playing, but after about 30 minutes my brain convinces me I'm shit & wasting my time.

I'm not hopeful. Lost my lust for life 10 years or more ago. Hope followed quickly after. I'm kinda lost & I'm not sure if I can or even want to be found. I just drag myself through each day until I can go back to bed. And then I struggle to sleep which sucks, because sleeping is the only break I get from being me. The honest truth is I've probably got more days behind me than I have ahead of me.

Oh and here's one another laugh. The name of the docs surgery? Kilmeny. Pronounced Kill Many. I shit you not. The name is pretty apt because if they treat every patient as well as they've treated me over the years they probably have killed many.

This year has been an utter shitshow. Nothing is fine & good for anybody, myself included.

The universe has a cruel sense of humour, and it doesn't seem to like me. Docs finally changed my medication at the start of this year. I'm on Sertraline now, 100mg as well as Promethazine 25mg x2 (or 4, or 6 to try make me sleep. Sleep is the only break I get from being me). I've give up. On everything. I'll be alone for the rest of my days & the joke is I can't even kill myself yet. Just got to keep on keeping on keeping on keeping on.

I'm a professional failure, a master act in fucking up & I have long checked out of this fight.

The universe really does have a cruel sense of humour. I must've been Hitler in a past life to deserve the luck I've had in this life. If there's a next life, I hope it's better for me than this.

I admit & accept there's a lot of folks have had things a hell of a lot worse than I've had to live through though, and more power too them for being stronger than me.

I promise you all though, I'm okay I won't kill myself today, tomorrow, next week or even this year or next. Maybe not even the year after 🤣

But one day it will happen.

And no, that doesn't mean I'm feeling suicidal. I just like to get things off my chest. Facebook is cheap version of therapy and depression is a comedy for all, except those involved 🤣🙈

Anyways thank you so much to anyone that's still reading at this point.

Sorry to have wasted your time with my whining, but I'd rather be honest than a liar. Hopefully some of you understand me better now.

I haven't posted this looking for sympathy or attention or any of that BS either. It is what it was, and is what it is.

I'm a broken human being, sometimes alternating between needing hugs & needing duct tape to fix me" 🤣🤷‍♂️

12/10/20

Since composing that essay/novel full of happy, there's a few more things that have floated into my brain:

Age 11 or so - started going to a youth club in Queensbury to try make friends. Only went a few times. After my last visit, I was walking back with a few lads who went to the same school as me. Ended up getting jumped & beaten up by them. Worst bit is I knew something was coming as we walked along, I just wasn't smart enough to put the pieces together quickly enough. I could honestly take you to the exact spot where the first punch landed on me. So much for trying to make friends.

Age 15 - Finished work one night (I was working in a kitchen at the time as a pot washer). Got back & my old man was drunk. He started being a prick, saying that he wished I'd never been born & that I ruin everything, the usual rhetoric. Ended up walking out around midnight in tears. It'd snowed like fuck too over the past few days. Ended up walking from Keighley to Queensbury (around 9 miles), then realised I had nowhere to go & walked back. Slept with my penknife under my pillow. My Dad came upstairs into my room around 9am when I was asleep to apologise. My first reaction when he woke me up was to reach for that penknife. Says a lot really.

Age 19 - Got mugged in Keighley on my way to work. Bastard had followed me for nearly a mile into town, just waiting for an opportunity. Punched me in the back of the head then grabbed me from behind with his arm across my throat and lifted me off the ground so I couldn't do anything. Ended up handing over my phone, which I'd only got a few days previous. Joke is I was carrying about £100 in cash on me, more than the phone itself was worth. To this day I don't really like having people walk behind me when I'm walking, and will take any opportunity to stop in order to get them ahead of me.

Age 21 - Worked a 12 hour shift in a kitchen. Got back home around 11pm & proceeded to have a shower to wash the grease & sweat off of me. My old man started an arguement because of it, claiming I was inconsiderate. He wasn't in bed sleeping or owt, he was sat drinking at the time. Come the next morning he was still being a prick about it. Told me if I didn't show more consideration he'd kick me out of the house. Just for daring to have a shower after work.

I think that's about all, for now 🤔