Before I begin, I just want to say that maybe some things towards the end could be triggering to someone? Given how I’m feeling right now, being the over-thinker that I am, I don’t want to make anyone else feel this way. I’m just being honest about how I feel, I’m sorry because it’s a lot of rambling and I probably won’t make any sense, but I’m trying. Thank you.

All I want to say about myself is that I’m young and a guy, for the sake of keeping my anonymity.

I had something really fucked up happen to me last year and ever since then I have been extremely paranoid. I’ve been suicidal for my entire life, but this sent me closer to the edge than I ever knew to be possible. I can’t go anywhere without the idea in my mind that someone will kill me or brutally torture me, whether these people are familiar or not. It’s mostly fixated around one person, but their friends (some of which were my friends, but no longer following these incidents) and people that I assume could be their friends (so everyone else, more or less) make my mind go into overdrive too. My rational mind says “you’ve made it for a year without anyone laying a hand on you,” but my paranoid mind says “they’re just waiting for you to finally let your guard down.”

I don’t hear voices in the traditional sense, but I constantly hear my own voice (that of my paranoid mind, and that of my rational mind,) arguing with itself. It’s like I’m thinking of overdrive constantly.

I stayed in a mental hospital for over two weeks a few months ago. It was my idea and entirely voluntary. I hated it there, but I also loved it there. I hated it worse when I thought that one of my peers was one of that person’s friends sent there to torment me or spy on me. The way he acted around me didn’t help that assumption. Really, before that, I didn’t mind it so much. I didn’t mind not having to go to work, go to the grocery store or go to church. Nobody could call me or text me. Nobody could send me threatening messages. I didn’t have to stare at my phone as it rang from unknown numbers and wonder if it was a bill collector or if it was someone that wanted to stick a bullet through the back of my head. I was in a box and I was safe. At first, they figured that I was schizophrenic on top of a chronic depression issue. Not the traditional kind of schizophrenic, but the extremely over-the-top paranoid kind. They settled on PTSD, which I was grateful for because the meds for schizophrenia sound scary to me, but now I’m beginning to wonder if I just bullshitted my way through that out of fear.

They didn’t do much to help me. Part of that is my fault. I started trying to get my shit together enough for them to let me out once that one guy showed up. After him, my goal was more-so about getting out then getting better.

Now that it’s been a few months, my paranoia and anxiety is through the roof. I can’t go anywhere. It hurts me to go anywhere. The only place I’ve been is church, which usually helps, but the following has taken that safe haven away from me too. I thought about life/death, God/Satan, Heaven/hell, why we exist, etc. about a week ago, thoughts I’ve had before, but ever since I have been completely fixated on the idea of death and punishment for my actions here. Upon further thought, I started to worry that I was the devil himself and that this course of life was simply God’s way of punishing me for creating evil, but I’m simply oblivious to that fact until I die and it all comes to light.

I’m so scared. I know that rationally I sound so stupid, but I can’t think of a logical reason for life and I can’t think of a logical reason to be given any hope unless someone would benefit from stripping it away from me after this.

As far as life is concerned, I’ve been relatively “regular” the entire time. I’m not a horrible person, but I certainly could’ve treated some people better along the way and not said/done certain things. I’ve never done any drugs. I’ve smoked weed a handful of times, but that’s it. I’ve slowly been having a meltdown like this for a week, each day getting worse and worse. My mom has been here for me, and I’ve sort of explained my thoughts although I haven’t wanted to explain the extend of them. I’ve mentioned to her many times that I want to stay in a residential hospital, somewhere less hectic than the “immediate mental healthcare” I was in, that will help me figure out how to live life. I’ve actually mentioned wanting to stay in the same hospital again, despite the hectic nature of such a place. However, she’s told me every time just to wait for my first outpatient psychiatry appointment (tomorrow) and that I don’t need that. I know it’s stressful for her too, and that going to places like that costs a lot of money (I’m in a state that doesn’t have much in terms of mental healthcare, I don’t have insurance and the out of state places I’ve looked at want several hundreds of dollars per day for a stay, ranging anywhere from 2-6 months long.)

I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’m in hell. I feel like I can’t breathe. I feel like I don’t exist but at the same time that I’m the only thing that exists or that I’m inferior to everything else that exists. I feel like I’m going to die at any moment and realize I did something unforgivable that sends me into an eternity of pain - whether that be the traditional idea of “Hell” or something else. I can’t stop anything. This has made me want to use my time wisely, but I’m paralyzed with fear at the same time. I hurt so fucking bad. I don’t even know why I’m posting this other than hoping that someone will understand and say they got through this kind of thing and that they’re fine now.

Someone? Anyone? Please.