My story, where I'm at today. *TW* *TW*

I just spent an hour in tears writing my story and when I clicked submit it told me I had been auto logged off and nothing was saved. I'm so mad right now.

So here's a shorter version. It's still pretty long.

I moved to Argentina a year and 4 months ago. I met a girl here, we hit it off really well. We were so similar, and she was depressed too and I finally felt comfortable talking about my depression with a partner. The past ones I hid them, I didn't want to be a burden.

So now fast forward and my girlfriend is feeling extremely down, A bad psychedelic trip got her feeling this way. She was being very suicidal, and it continued until the morning (it was strong so we were both still feeling the effects, but not nearly as much). Finally I called my sister when my girlfriend started asking me to assist in her suicide, begging, and then beginning to choke her self. I had to pull her hands away until my sister got there.

We thought a change of place would help things out so we went to my sisters apartment. It helped, for a bit, so my sister and her boyfriend went back to sleep.

Then my girlfriend gets really sad again, it happens really fast. She went by the window, I thought she went to smoke a cigarette. (She doesn't smoke but this night/morning she did).

I see her climb out onto the ledge. I climb out there with her and see she's on the edge, there's an AC unit in-between us. I look at her and tell her "Don't do this! You're not thinking straight". She looks at me and says "Come with me". I'm freaking out, all my brain can think of to do is scream. I screamed, hoping my sister would hear. She fell. 9 floors. I ran inside the window before I could see her hit the ground. I ran in screaming.

The police came and they were asking questions. I was just sobbing uncontrollably. I was in shock. He shined the flashlight in my eyes and says "Are you on drugs?! Hey he's on drugs!!!". I wanted to punch him in the face. I could act normal on drugs, I barely felt any drug effects. I was in shock.

So after that I am staying with my family in the town, I can't stand to be alone in the city. I cry for three days. Every time I see someone I break down crying. I can barely function. I asked my mom for my passport, she was confused but she gave it to me.

I took my passport, took my money, took 3 different prescription medicines specifically picked out (In Argentina it is not too hard to buy prescriptions without a prescription), bought two liters of wine, and went to a nearby city to find a hotel. At the hotel I went on Facebook, posted a vague "Thank you everyone for helping me get this far, I love you all" post, and I guess my parents noticed I left because I had quite a lot of messages. I let them know I loved them, and they were the best I could ask for. At this point they had pieced everything together.

So I finished almost both liters of wine, took the three boxes of different prescriptions, and closed my eyes. Then I woke up. I woke up. How could I have messed it up so bad? I picked the three different medications after doing a lot of research, none of them mixed well with each other and they all mixed even worse with alcohol. I guess I was more-so just annoyed. Maybe I spent the night puking, I wouldn't have remembered that's for sure. So I set my stuff up and I went out looking.

It didn't take me long before I found one. It seemed perfect, 7 stories, concrete landing, in construction giving easy access.... So I went up it. I got all the way up to the 6th floor. I guess the 7th floor was actually just a roof, there wasn't a ladder leading there.

I am up at the top and I look down, I see some people down there. I guess they see me too because they started yelling something. I thought to myself "This is the part where the people down below save the guy from jumping, $#%^." So before I could do anything else, I stepped back, got a running start, and jumped. Everything went black before I hit the ground.

The next thing I knew I woke up in the ambulance. I guess the people down below really did save me afterall. I don't really remember the next few days, they said it was because of the trauma.

Five months later I am finally able to leave the hospital. They say with enough rehab, I'll be able to walk again too.

I saw how much pain my family was in when they thought I was going, the whole search crew they gathered looking for me. I realized how hurt they would have been if they didn't find me, I saw how hurt my girlfriend's family was, I realized what affect it was going to have on everyone. So this starts me just living for other people.. not myself.

I went to see a psychologist, because that's what I"m supposed to do.
I just saw a psychiatrist today, I guess it went well.
I don't want to live. I don't want to be here. I don't want to get help. I don't want to live with this pain. I don't want to.. But I don't have a choice.

My parents are just happy it's over. They have a theory that we were possessed by demons to have ourselves thrown off.. because they can't fathom the idea that their son would try to kill himself. They're just happy they don't have to deal with it anymore. Except the psychologist and the psychiatrist.

They seem annoyed at any of my attempts to get better, even though I don't want to get better, I'm just doing it for them. They don't want to accept that I'm at a point where I need to get better.

My psychologist suggested I see her two times a week instead of one because the clinic appointments are only 30 minutes. My mom reluctantly agreed and set up an appointment (was going to be today). A couple days ago she told me she was going to be too busy with things to take me to the appointment so I had to call and cancel. So I did, I don't have much of a choice. It comes today, and she doesn't do anything other than bring me to my regular physical therapy appointment. She is too bothered to bring me to get help because she is busy doing nothing.

I feel guilty asking them for help to help myself get better because I'm in a wheelchair, when I don't even want to get help.

Why is it like this? Why can't this be easier? Why do I have to be a burden to my family, when they are the ones I am being a burden for? If they really love me, why do they make me suffer like this.

Why won't they let me die?