My SI History

The title kind of says where this is going, along with the icon, so just to reiterate: Trigger Warning.

Now long before, in my very earliest memories, I'd have these bouts of what can only be described as depressed moods. Considering the tension, hostility, violence and instability of my household, maybe that's not so surprising. I'd get into these depressed moods that always followed extremely hyperactive ones; it was just apart of life. When I was eight, I began to experience something new. I began to passively consider suicide (passive SI). I'd sit there just thinking about ways I'd do it, sometimes even laugh because I'd make it a funny way to die. I would also get violent intrusive thoughts in which I'd die along with my family. Sometimes I'd "kill" bullies at school and then feel guilt, so to follow it up, I'd create ways in which to punish myself. SI became a source of entertainment, coping and escape. This went on for a while.
Well, a good portion through middle school, I was being bullied and dealing with my mom's alcoholism and my dad's general distance. I also faced my uncle's death (I was very close to him). My passive, and sometimes entertaining, thoughts of suicide became very aggressive. Instead of using it to cope, I began to use it as the punishment I felt I deserved. All I wanted anymore was to die. So much, that I would find myself alone with a knife and just think of how easy it'd be to take care of this. At this age I began self-harming because, well I deserved it. I needed to be punished. I found myself taking a few extra benedrills and other meds I could get my hands on. I always woke up, but it took care of nightmares and I was hoping it'd just slowly take me out or something. I'd pick fights and sometimes not fight back, hoping they'd kill me. I'd aggravate my mom or brother into hitting me. In fact, I almost got my wish when my brother's hands around my neck refused to un-clench. I was seeing black spots and eventually lost consciousness before I passed out. I woke up from it, pissed that he didn't finish the job. Middle school was difficult. After a change in schools and some more crazy life events, I felt myself begin to get better. Sure, my SI was still there but it was passive again and I felt as though I could get control of my SH issues, and I did.
It lasted a year, then it was all back. All of the aggressive desire to die and stop the pain. I attempted but was caught in the act by my little brother. I felt so guilty that I was unable to finish the job. I had really good friends who I confided in one day. They got me involved in a youth group and church. They kept me busy every day in between. While I wasn't cured and was still having aggressive thoughts of suicide, they became easier to deal with. Eventually, they became passive again and it was a breath of fresh air.
I was able to stay this way through my sophomore year, up until my junior. Then it all started again and I quit attending all church activities, along with all of my extra school activities (all of which were keeping me alive, to be honest). All of my focus went to taking care of my nephews and my little brother because nothing else mattered anymore, least of all me. It alternated between passive and aggressive at a rapid rate. I honestly think that it's basically stayed that way for the most part since.

This post has been really long, so I suppose I'll sum it up. It's theorized that I've showed signs and symptoms of bipolar disorder dating back to early childhood. The SI started at eight, well that was a very traumatic age for me, so I can't say I'm surprised by this and believe I've showed signs of PTSD since. My anxiety has been my life, it would seem, as well. Tracking my SI has lead me to believe that I've been fighting these things since I was very, very young. Unfortunately, this was the conclusion I knew to be true but didn't want to. To me this means I've been fighting for a long, long time. My whole life, basically, and I'm tired. I always told myself, "Not today, it will get better. Not today. Give the future a chance." I don't think I can tell myself these things anymore. They're just lies to me now. I don't know why I keep fighting now. I'm not sure I want to.