Trapped in Pain: A Desperate Plea for Understanding and Healing

Another year begins, and with it, a continuation of pain that feels inescapable. Nearly two years without employment—it weighs on me daily, gnawing at my confidence and sense of purpose. Moving to Finland, I hoped for new beginnings, but instead, life has only spiraled further into despair. Now, I’m pursuing a third degree, in Business Administration IT and Cybersecurity, not because I want to but because I feel like it’s my last chance—a desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, it’ll lead to an internship, a lifeline to something better.

But hope feels like a cruel joke when there’s nothing to look forward to. The rejections, the lack of therapy, the constant judgment—it’s all too much. Therapy feels like a distant luxury I can’t access, and I’m left stranded, screaming into the void for help that never comes. I deserve connection, care, and the freedom to feel safe. Yet it seems the world disagrees. Even within the kink community, where I thought I might find understanding, I face judgment. I’m shamed for my needs, for wanting the comfort of confinement and bondage that makes me feel secure.

Why is it that others in the BDSM world can embrace their desires without shame, but I’m mocked and told I’m not “ready” or that I should just “go to therapy”? Therapy can’t give me the safety and release I crave. The hypocrisy is unbearable. I’m told to find help, yet all I encounter is rejection—another locked door in a world that seems to thrive on keeping me out. This cycle only deepens my depression. It feels like society has abandoned me, leaving me to drown in trauma that rewinds in my mind like a relentless, cruel movie.

My ADHD, the CPTSD from childhood abuse, being locked in a basement as a child—all of it is a weight I can’t keep carrying. I didn’t ask for this pain. I didn’t choose to suffer. Yet here I am, desperately seeking healing, comfort, and understanding, only to be told I’m unworthy. Disabled? It feels like a curse. My needs—security, safety, someone to care for me—are denied, laughed at, dismissed.

I feel like I’ve been backed into a corner, where even suicide starts to feel like a form of freedom—freedom from the relentless pain, the rejections, the hopelessness. When I think about it, I realize how ironic it is: all I want is to surrender control, to serve, to find purpose in giving myself to someone who will care for me. That’s all. But even that is taken from me. Instead of understanding, I get cruelty. Instead of care, I get turned away.

And then I think about prison. A place where even those who have harmed others can receive stability, care, and structure. These elite inmates live in what seems like luxury—warm beds, daily meals, therapy, structured environments. They are given what I desperately need and have begged for my entire life. But I cannot access this sanctuary. Why? Because I refuse to commit a crime. I would never harm someone or do something unethical, but it seems the only way society acknowledges someone’s need for confinement and care is when they break the law. How is that fair? Why is the system built to reward destruction but not desperation?

I crave that structured life—a place where I am locked away, where the walls protect me from the chaos of the world and my own mind. I crave the stability that prison could provide, a place where I don’t have to fight every day to survive. There, I wouldn’t have to worry about employment rejections, paying for therapy, or being shamed for my needs. I could finally feel secure, cared for, and understood. But society denies me this because I don’t fit into their mold. I don’t want to commit a crime just to feel safe. I shouldn’t have to.

The world’s lack of empathy is staggering. They tell me to fix myself, as if it’s that simple, as if seeing a therapist or taking pills could erase the scars of my past or give me the comfort I so desperately need. Therapy and medication can’t undo the years of trauma or fill the void that confinement and care could heal. How can I heal when every step I take is met with more rejection and pain?

Even in my current relationship, I feel like I’m sacrificing everything—my needs, my voice, my very being—just to keep going. I’ve reached a breaking point. Why should I keep fighting for a life that feels so relentlessly cruel? Why should I keep trying when society has made it clear it has no space for someone like me? All I want is to feel safe, cared for, needed. Is that really too much to ask?

I didn’t ask to be abused, locked away, stripped of my dignity. I didn’t ask for this brokenness. I didn’t ask for a life of constant suffering. I only asked for the chance to heal, to feel whole, to feel seen. But the world refuses to grant even that. I feel like my voice is drowned out, my needs ignored, my very existence dismissed as unworthy.

I can’t keep doing this. I don’t want to suffer anymore. I deserve comfort. I deserve care. I deserve peace. And if society refuses to give me what I need to heal, then what’s the point of staying here at all? Please, if anyone is listening, show some empathy. Show some understanding. Help me, because I’m at my limit. I can’t keep screaming into the void. I’m tired. I’m broken. And I just want the pain to end.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.