life is harder after surviving the suicide attempt

two years ago, i tried to kill myself. i was hospitalized, put through all the traditional routes post attempt (inpatient then outpatient, started on medication and therapy etc).

that period of time in my life was filled with a lot of rough external factors, family situations and other pressures. my only mom was extremely sick and everyone could easily make the connection that that was the root cause of this extremely bad downturn in my mental health. even though i knew deep down, that it wasn't just because my mom was sick that i was feeling how i felt, it felt easier to just let everyone make the connection, because i didn't have a clean explanation of what was making me feel how i felt anyways. sick mom -> depressed was way easier of an explanation than ???? i don't even know? + sick mom -> depressed.

soon after my attempt + hospitalization, my mom's illness took a turn for the better. like genuine best case scenario. i was also admitted into a great university (another source of stress ofc) and within a year it felt like there was a genie that saw all external things that were causing me stress/sadness in my life and just said "poof!" and it was gone. i even moved to a place where it is impossible to get seasonal depression, so it felt like literally any possible external cause of my depression was removed. by all objective measurements, i was suddenly thrust into my literal dream life.

however, i didn't feel any better. in the midst of everyone congratulating me on my mom's recovery, my university admissions, and this brand new great life i was now going to live, this miraculous bounce back from literal near death, i felt almost like a fraud. like i didn't suddenly feel better, it was only still within two months of my attempt, but it feels harder to explain, to both others and to myself. as more and more people said their congrats and expressed happiness for me, i felt worse and worse. it didn't feel correct, i wasn't much different from the person everyone was pitying and worried about hurting themselves two months ago.

this discrepancy in my feelings, i understood, was too complicated to have to explain to everyone who was just wishing me well. so i resolved to just letting all the external praise and congrats wash over me, and try my best to figure out what's wrong with me in private.

in the last two years since my attempt, i've been on four different medications and five different therapists. can i say that any of them have "helped"? i don't know. hundred of hours, thousands of dollars, and so many times i've had hope that maybe i just need to approach it differently, maybe this combo of this medication and that therapeutic approach will be the one, but no. with each and every iteration, every time i talk to another psychiatrist and do the same assessments and evaluations over and over again, i feel a bit of hope leaving.

i've done other things too, ive talked to friends about how i felt too so im not entirely self isolating. but none of my friends (thankfully) have had similar experiences, and even when i know they obviously mean their best, they don't fully understand. i express that im feeling down, still feeling down despite xyz external good thing, and they try their best to cheer me up, often by pointing to another external xyz good thing.

there's no doubt in my mind that my attempt and the time leading up to it is the worst time of my life, absolute rock bottom. and i'm not at rock bottom, so i must be better? right? but it feels so hollow to me, to be chasing that lowest common denominator, when i feel pain and loneliness again to go to myself "hey at least im not trying to die again." shouldn't it get better than that? shouldn't the standard be higher? and it's not just me. i understand that, obviously, my friends and family have this baseline worry that if my mental health ever takes another serious dip, i would do something to hurt myself. but sometimes, most times, that leaves me feeling like it's either i'm all good or people have to handle me like im fragile, like im literally gonna kms the next second.

and of course, now i am still mentally ill, still depressed and anxious most of the time, but now i have bigger responsibilities and more valuable opportunities, and more expectations. and now when i spend days in bed, when i pick out my hair and can't sleep for three days straight, it's not as easy as "my mom is extremely sick, im so sorry." people's grace and patience run out, they don't understand what's happening but also i don't understand it either.

i feel like im not trying hard enough to get better. that i have all the tools in front of me, and i just have to pick it up and try but i just don't. i feel like im failing myself by ruining good opportunities, opportunities that the suicidal version of me would've died (lol) for. that sense of failure, along with the still present stress of being extremely mentally ill, makes me feel like life has just gotten harder after my attempt.