Friday, 24 January 2020

for me

I have mostly written in this place for myself because it helps my head to get the thoughts out and because there are so few people that I can talk to about what is happening in my life. There are a few people whom I have told about this place and a few others who have stumbled across me because they found me again on twitter when I followed them and they figured out who I was or were interested in what I have to say.

That anonymity has meant that I could come and go here as I wanted to and not worried about what I have said or not said because so few people come to see what is written on this little corner of the internet I have carved out for my own.

This week I wanted to die. I had a plan. I had the means and it truly felt as though I could not live another day.

That was Tuesday. Today is Friday and I am still here. To be honest I cannot tell you what stopped me and it was not the first time I have felt that way in the last year and half. I did see my therapist that day and I know how worried she was. That night I texted her and told her I needed her to hang on to my meds so that I did not take them all in an attempt to end my life.

She certainly helped and did all the things she should have done. I am not sure why it was that I stopped and asked for help rather than taking the pills.

But I did and I am still here.

The days feel hard. I get wake up each morning faced with the grim reality that is my life and I do not want to get out of bed. Randall texts me and say mean and hateful things and I wish that there was a way to fix him. Kate is sassy because I am annoyed that most of our forks have disappeared and although that is not a big deal it kind of is because of where they came from. Yep, forks are just things but when getting out of bed each days take all the energy you have fighting with your teen about forks becomes just one more thing you have to do.

I do not want to do anything.

I move slowly in the morning because everything hurts and I am not a morning person. I have coffee and try to muster up the will to shower and get dressed, if I do both before 9am it feels like a monumental accomplishment. I push through all the things I must do like take care of dogs and attend appointments. I might fit some school in somewhere if I can find the emotional resources to manage it. But, the reality is I spend a lot of time thinking about how hard life is and how much I hate mine.

Sometimes I fantasize about how life could be if I made some changes. How it would be if I left Jack and started over again just with Kate and then I feel guilty for even thinking that. He has also given the last 15 years of his life to this marriage and family when he could have been doing other things that would have been a hell of lot easier than the life we have lived. I care about him but we are so broken and I just can not see a way for us to mend ourselves and be in relationship with one another.

Where will I be in a year or even in a month. I can not see or hope past this day because that just feels overwhelming.

Depression is the not the companion I would have asked for at this point in my life.


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