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BrokenShadow
8,298 M Moving Along 8
PathStep 13 Compassion hearts210 Forum posts107 Forum upvotes150 Current upvotes150 Age GroupAdult Last activeJune, 2018 Member sinceApril 2, 2016
Bio
I don't feel like writing a proper description. This is something I once said in a group support room:
“We're tough, you know that? We are really f*cking tough. I am bulletproof glass, and you can be too. Just keep smiling. Keep standing. The pain will lessen the more you endure it.” ...It will be okay. You are TOUGH. You can make it through this. Please don't give up.

Yeah... That's all. Bye. :)
Recent forum posts
BrokenShadow profile picture
Any Long-Term (teen) Listeners Out There?
General Support / by BrokenShadow
Last post
 December 16th, 2017
...See more Admittedly, I don't use this site much, but it'd be nice to log on a couple times a week and connect with a single person. Most listeners I've spoken to do not reach out to me afterwards, and the messages are rather brief at that. They ditch the conversation suddeny without another word. It's frustrating, really. I'd like to meet someone who can carry on a conversation and provide some thoughtful, helpful opinions. A passionate, caring person to fall back on when things get tough. It'd be nice to have that for a change. The following are things I may wish to talk about: Self harm, emotional abuse, a complicated relationship, struggles with school, binging, and anything that may occur in my life. I'll probably want to vent about my mother often. My schedule is pretty flexible. I'm on a computer every day; it's just a matter of setting one thing aside and remembering to come on here. We can talk when it's conveinant for you. Thanks! <3
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The Reason I'm Still Here (Triggers->Self-Harm & Suicide)
Depression Support / by BrokenShadow
Last post
 July 3rd, 2017
...See more Every time I wrap up a weekly session with my therapist, I have to complete a form about my depression symptoms. On this form is the question of, "Have you ever attempted suicide?" My answer is always no, and I walk out of that building shortly after. I am clean from self-harm, I have never been hospitalized for having suicidal thoughts, I scored a 10 on the weekly PHQ-9 form (much lower than my usual score), and my therapist isn't concerned about me. I must be fine, right? I'm not yet on the radar for suicidal ideations, right? Wrong. I am NOT fine. I should be on the radar and closely watched. Every single day, the thoughts to take my life grow more and more vivid. I can see all of it very clearly, from the moment I press that blade into my wrist to the moment my body stops breathing. All I can think about is how badly I wish to die and what may be waiting for me on the other side. Yet, if what I've just said is true, how am I able to say that I have never attempted suicide? Truthfully, I haven't. Never once have I swallowed a handful of pills, tied a noose around my neck, sliced my wrists, leaped from a bridge, stepped off of a tall building, or put a gun to my head. Never. That isn't to say I haven't considered taking my life, but I definitely haven't tried any of the common suicide methods. So, that brings the question of, "Why am I still here?" (What's stopping me?) I'll be honest here. Yesterday, I was prepared to die. I texted someone I know and told him goodbye. Before my mother left to meet our extended family at the lake, I gave her a hug and said I loved her. Sometime later, I climbed into bed and stared at my wrist. I could clearly imagine driving a blade through the blue and purple veins. Blood gushed out from the open wound, my eyelids began to close tightly, and I found myself standing beside my unconscious body. ...All of this took place while I stared at a perfectly normal, unscratched wrist. (I would say this in more detail, but I'd hate to trigger anyone.) To prevent myself from doing it right then and there, I got out of bed with the motive to do laundry, because I had a basket full of dirty clothes that I wanted to take care of before I died. I grabbed the basket and headed to the bathroom, where I popped the lid to the washer and looked inside. Damp blankets from the living room couches were resting inside. I started to pull them all out and move them to the dryer, but I noticed that the washer was covered in black dog hair. I felt too weak and tired to take care of it. I put the blankets back, grabbed my basket, and retreated to my bedroom once more. I then thought about how my body may look when it is discovered. I was (and am still wearing) hideous pajamas that highlight my large stomach. The baby-blue, long-sleeved shirt has two yellow stains on it from top ramen that was consumed over a year ago. The red, gray, and white striped pajama pants have grown tight around my thighs. All of my other comfortable clothes were dirty, so there was nothing I could change into. I came to the conclusion that I wouldn't want to be found like this. My clothes would be caked in dried blood by the time anyone noticed I was gone, so there was that to worry about too. To put this simply, I didn't slice my wrists, because my insecurities got the better of me. I spent the rest of the day in my bedroom. I binged on food like I always do, and I only got out of bed to take care of my basic daily needs. For the most part, I was lying in bed motionlessly, between intervals of watching movies, Anime, and YouTube videos. I listened to the children next door while they laughed and played with their parents. My mother get home at around 6 pm and took up a friendly chat with her boyfriend, which I attempted to block out with headphones. Before she left at 9:30 am earlier, she kept saying that she'll see me later, so I stayed in my room and hoped to hear her call my name. She never did. I waited for her to remember that I was home, like I always am, but she sat outside my window and spoke about how wonderful it was to see our family at the lake. I heard her leave with her boyfriend, return again, and go to sleep. Not once did she mention my name. Had I gone through with committing suicide, my mother wouldn't have noticed. My still body would have laid in a pool of dried blood for the entire day, without ever being missed or searched for. That is what I realized yesterday, while I sat in bed with headphones pressed tightly to my ears... I am completely alone in the world. Nobody misses me, wants to be around me, or would notice if I suddenly decided to die. My body would likely lay there for DAYS, and begin the process of rotting long before anyone opens my bedroom door. That is how isolated and lonely my life is... If I died, nobody would notice. This is the shocking realization that has stopped me from attempting suicide, despite having thought about for four years. I always stopped myself with the knowledge of certain death... The moment I slice my wrists, I am guaranteed to die, because a concerned parent or sibling isn't going to come running into my room. Nobody. Would. Notice. When I'm gone, I'd just be another lost cause, and easily forgotten. I am still here, because I am too upset by this realization to follow through with my suicidal thoughts. I am still here, because I cannot bare the thought of eternal loneliness, and knowing that I will never be missed; that it will take days (possibly a week) for anyone to notice that I am gone. That is what is keeping me here. THAT is my tiny ounce of "motivation" to continue living. When I complete that form in my therapist's office, and she clicks "no" on her computer to that question of whether or not I have attempted suicide, I want to tell her the truth so badly. I want to tell her why I haven't committed suicide yet, and the little facts that are keeping me bound to this lonely life that I live. I want to tell her, truly, that I need help and that I cannot go on like this forever - that someday I will find the strength to push aside the facts and drive that blade deep into my veins. Yet... I'd hate to be a burden in a mental health ward, hospital, or any such thing, and I'd truly hate for my mother to have to pay for the expenses. Therefore, I don't tell my therapist. I don't tell anyone. I just push forward each and every day, doing whatever I can to survive it and reach the next day. I keep myself alive. I force myself to stay on this planet, and endure the lonliness and sorrow that I will surely face at my time of death. I am building a tolerance to my daily pain... For the time being, that is why I am still here.
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What Makes A Listener "Good."
General Support / by BrokenShadow
Last post
 October 6th, 2016
...See more I used to use this website frequently, but now I only use it rarely. I saw the notification for this and decided to give my own response. Instead of asking for a listener here like everyone else, I'm just going to say what I think makes a listener good. 1) RESPOND. I have had many listeners that stop responding to me or block me for talking about my problems. I didn't get angry at them, I didn't say anything bad/disturbing, and I genuinely needed support for real problems. If you don't feel capable enough to handle a chat anymore, then please say so. Don't simply brush a person's problems off and ignore them. There have been times when that action alone (getting ignored after sharing my problems) has made me consider suicide. "Everyone around me hates me, and not even strangers will listen to me, so maybe I should just give up." Don't let someone get to that point. What if that was YOU getting ignored? It doesn't feel so great, does it? 2) Be sympathetic. Sometimes I wonder if people pay any attention at all to the listener guides and the qualification tests to become a listener. Does it not recommend how to speak to a person in need? Doesn't it tell you to say, "I understand how you feel," "If I were in your shoes, I would..." or ANYTHING that's remotely sympathic to others? Doesn't it also say NOT to give advice? I've seen many listeners blatantly give you "advice." They'll tell you to "DO THIS" or "DO THAT." They aren't suggesting it. They're demanding it. Then, they spit on your problems by telling you it's nothing or that you're in the wrong compeletely. I've even had listeners say that they aren't going to follow the listening guidelines at all. I wanted to explain to someone the importance of doing as this website asks, but I didn't feel like getting into an argument with them. They insisted that they didn't need to follow the rules. One more thing about sympathy... If you really have nothing to say, you can find ways to relate to them. I do this on occasion with my listener account. Instead of JUST saying "I understand how you feel," I also explain why. I'll give a quick sentence or two to let them know, "Hey, I've been through this. My family also _____." I'm not afraid to get personal with these people. If I'm going to try to help them, I think they should know that they aren't alone in their struggles. 3) Listen. That's a no-brainer. Listen. That's all you have to do. Allow the person to vent, let them know you're there for them, and perhaps give them SUGGESTIONS (not advice) on how to handle their situation. Do not provide only one, such as "Go to a therapist." That is the most common suggestion I hear. It is a sure-fire way to make me angry. If you need help when handling a certain chat, there ARE people available for that. There are a lot of sources to run to if you find yourself in a difficult conversation. You can also just refer that person to someone else so you don't waste their time and they don't waste yours. 4) Be passionate. Have a reason for being a listener. Have a goal in mind when listening to others. I think one of the problems with inexperienced, newer listeners is that they have no real reason to be one. They take on general requests that they don't care about and drop the conversation soon after. Think about this: Why are you a listener? What is it that you're wanting to do? How can you help this person in need? When I first became a listener, I made it my personal goal to HELP members of this website and keep talking to them until they feel better. I was still very depressed at the time, so I made it my goal for those people to walk away with smiles on their faces or their tears dried. If I couldn't be happy, I wanted someone else to be. And, if I could make them happy, then I'd be happy. It gave me hope every time I helped someone. That's all I have for now. If anyone else wants to share their thoughts about what they want from a listener, then please leave them below. :)
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