A few years back, my uncle killed himself.
I remember my mom calling us and telling us that my uncle had died of a self inflicted gun shot wound. I could make the argument that he killed himself because of just being diagnosed with cancer. He took care of my grandparents who died a pretty miserable death from cancer. I could make the argument it was because my parents were buying a house three hours away from him. That his support system was leaving and as much of a hermit as he already was that this would isolate him even more. That he didn’t want to live life without them. I could make the case that it was the combination of the two. We will never know.
At first I blamed myself. Considering how long I’ve fought my own battle with suicidal thoughts, I should have noticed the signs. For the most part I’ve gotten over that. Or at least it’s so numb to me right now that I can’t feel guilt. What I do feel? Anger. Jealousy. I wanted to die. I’ve wanted to kill myself for so long. He did it. He succeeded. That should have been me that died. He had the courage to do something I didn’t. I was mad at myself. Why did he have the courage that I couldn’t? How come he was strong enough and I wasn’t? He’s already killed himself. It’s not like I can put my mom through that pain again by killing myself. And then the guilt of being mad at someone who was hurting enough to end their life.
At the same time living is hard. And honestly I don’t even know where to start to explain this. Most days I’m ok but there’s still quite a few that I’m not. There’s still nights that I cry trying to figure out what my purpose is. It is easier to see my purpose as a mom when the kids are little but what happens when Jacob gets older and I feel like I’m not needed anymore?
A lot of times I feel like I’m not good enough to live. Like it’s my fault that Erik yells. That if I was a better mother I would be able to protect the kids from him yelling. If I was a better wife Erik wouldn’t yell. If I was a stronger mom I would have left already.
I deserve to die. Or at least I don’t deserve to live. I’ve always felt that way. I was never a good enough student. I am never a good enough daughter. I am not pretty enough. Or skinny enough. Not strong enough. Not enough.
I feel like such a loser because I can’t even be happy right. There are a lot more people with much bigger issues than me and I don’t have a right to feel this bad.
I get that the probability that I will go through with killing myself is zero, but the pain of wanting to die is still real and intense. I’m not silently suffering for attention. This hurts and I feel so alone.
So my husband is acting like everything is normal.
And, in a way, this is our normal.
He yells. He had a meltdown. He withdraws. And I take care of the kids.
Why stay with him?
Because I’m afraid of him getting custody of the kids. I’m afraid of him getting mad at them and him leaving them at the house alone. I’m afraid that the kids will have issues with him. I’m afraid of him telling lies about me and I never see my kids again.
What the heck do I do?
my soul is tired.
I have no hope that things will get better. I’m tired of walking on eggshells with him. He needs help. .
But I promised to love him forever. I promised that I would be with him in sickness and in health. And wouldn’t it be me who abandoned him? When he needs me the most to help him get help wouldn’t it be me who left him?
I’m torn. I’m alone. And I want to cry. I want someone to hold me while I cry. I don’t want to be alone in the dark.
Last week my husband left.
He was trying to communicate with me the Tupperware container he wanted to use as a bird feed holder. I didn’t understand and gave him the wrong container. He melted down. I wasn’t listening. If I had been listening I would have given him the correct container. He melted down like a three year old. He yelled at me. When I told him I would be happy to help him find the container when he calmed down and stopped yelling, he got even madder. I ignored the yelling. I’m not going to talk to someone who can’t stop and breathe. I was getting our second grader started with schooling when he came over and pulled her away from where she was working. She needed to work with him instead. By the end of the argument she was hiding behind me, and eventually in tears in her bedroom.
He stuck around for an hour, I’m guessing now to pack. He left while S was in school. He yelled at me that he wanted a divorce and was leaving me while S was on her virtual class. I was the one that after he went through that had to console her. I was the one that had to hold her while she cried because he left. But you know, I’m getting used to.
He texted me at 7 that night to let me know he wouldn’t be home. I don’t know where he went. I don’t know what he was doing. All I know is that I had to keep it together for the kids while he recovered from the meltdown. But you know it was so much easier than I thought it would be. The kids were happy and helpful. They didn’t yell or scream or break down like normal. It was a peaceful night.
I started imagining life without him. We could have a nice small simple house on some land. The kids could jump and run and yell and scream and have fun. We could get a cat and another dog. We could go to church. I started liking this life.
He came home the next day after work. He went into the spare bedroom and locked the door. He was continuing to stonewall us. He wandered into the bedroom a couple of hours later, sweating profusely looking bewildered. His blood sugar had bottomed! I was able to get some juice down him before he passed out. I got him a second glass of fruit juice and some crackers.
And then everything was fine.
I remember walking down to the creek that morning. I remember the pocket knife in my pocket. I remember crying and walking until I found a stone to sit on. And I cried. I remember being worried about someone hearing me so I tried to be as quiet as I could with crying. I didn’t want anyone to find me and stop me. But I hurt so much. I wasn’t enough and I still am not. I don’t do enough for Erik. I don’t do enough for the kids. Every one is happier without me around. It’s true. I held the knife to my wrist and just sat there. I started to hurt but I just couldn’t go through with it. I’m a coward. One friend had texted me several days prior to this and told me that they would be unhappy if I died. That they would blame themselves. I lived for that person that day. But when you are living for someone and not yourself, things always get dicey when that person you are living for is no longer there. But that is the story of my life, right? No friend wants me. I exhaust them all. So I don’t let people in. It’s safer this way. I will be alone, but even if I let someone in I will still be alone eventually. I don’t want to hurt anyone.
Even things are shitty at work. Which makes me think everything is my fault. I’m a failure at work and a failure at home.
I took off Tuesday sick with the kids. I told my boss on Monday afternoon. Had it set on my jabber. And he texts me at 930 Tuesday asking if we could do my second interim that day at 10. I of course said yes. So I had my interim with my sick teething child screaming in the background.
September 8th is coming again. And I want this to end.
i had been living because I didn’t think Erik could be calm enough for the kids. But he has calmed down considerably. He can take care of the kids and everyone will be better off without me here.
He still doesn’t want me around. He would rather have my sister. He would rather have anyone but me. Because I’m me. No one wants me. No one wants me around. And I don’t want to be a burden.
I’ve been wanting to do this for decades. I want this to be over. I just need to let this go.
“How are you today”
What came out of my mouth wasn’t what I wanted to say.
Translation: I’m not ok. I need help.
Why is that so hard for me to say? Why am I ashamed to say that I’m struggling? Why am I ashamed to tell the one person that I know cares, one of the few people I trust? Why is the question so anxiety producing for me? Why the heck can’t I tell my counselor how much I’m hurting?
if your friend asked you how you were doing, what would you say? Would you tell them the fun stuff or would you tell them the pain you are feeling?
If I had said how I felt I didn’t know how to explain it. I had no idea where to go. Where to start. How to convey the intensity. How to convey the emptiness. How to convey the hopelessness. I still don’t.
it’s been almost two years since I sat at the creek wanting to kill myself. I still regret not going through with it. I regret living. Given everything going on this past few months I don’t know how I’m going to get past the anniversary this year. I don’t know how I’m going to process everything.
Don’t worry. I won’t kill myself. But I do want to die. I’m trapped. I can’t leave my husband with three small kids.
Here’s an analogy for you. Most people consider depression like a tunnel and you are searching for the light at the end of it. My tunnel is a big circle, with no hopes of having a light.
What would you do if a friend told you she wanted to die?
What would you say? What would you do?
Would you tell her how much you would miss her? Would you tell her how much others would miss her? Would you check on her? Would you sit in her office, and push her to call for help and make sure she did? Would you send that one text that she holds at night, while she is agonizing over the decision, the one text that keeps her alive to the next morning?
Would you give her a suicide helpline and send her on her way, never to mention it again? Would you tell her how she just needed to make a decision, no matter what that decision is? Would you encourage her to go through with it because of the pain she is going through? Would you brush her off because she hasn’t done it so far and you doubt she will in the future? Would you send that one text that pushes her closer and closer to a decision to go through with it?
I promise… telling someone that you want to die isn’t easy. It’s not just saying random words out loud. Admitting that to someone else takes a lot of courage. Don’t brush that courage off.
A while ago, the mental health folks at work sent out an email. They said if someone is feeling suicidal not to share your own pain with them. You know what?! Share your pain. Don’t let me feel like an outsider in this too. Tell me about your worse day. If you’ve struggled with depression, tell me. Depression is feeling ostracized. Depression is feeling alone. Depression is feeling like there will never be a light at the end of the tunnel. If you have seen the light at the end of a never ending tunnel, share it.
We are on vacation. I started this journey off happy, thinking maybe I could continue to stay alive, maybe there is a purpose.
I’ve done a lot of soul searching the last week. A lot. I’m in the peace of the mountains. I love it here. I can think; everything is clear.
I know my husband no longer loves me. He is currently sleeping on the sofa. Plenty of room in the bed but he is choosing to sleep on the sofa. Anything I want he argues with.
The tears are rolling. They make me feel even more alone. No one is here to care. I so just want someone to hold me while I cry. I want someone to tell me that I am loved. I’m supposed to be strong but I’m not. I’m weak.
They say that the worst pain is for a parent to bury a kid. That is why I stay alive. I wonder if their life wouldn’t be better if I just went through with it. They wouldn’t have to worry about me. They wouldn’t have to care for me. I would be gone. The kids would be a lot better off without me. Everyone would be a lot happier without me.
Even if I had someone here to talk to, what would I say? That life isn’t worth living anymore? How do I make someone understand the intensity of the hopelessness? How do I put what I’m feeling into words?
My husband got into an argument last week. He wanted to know if there was anything he could do to the house to make me happier in it, and want to stay. I said no, which apparently wasn’t the answer he was looking for. I want a bigger lot. Can’t do that. I want bedrooms and full baths on the main floor. He could turn the safe room into a bedroom. No, not nearly big enough. I want a rec room. We could turn the dining room into a rec room. Really?! I’m trying to make it so that people can work on projects and walk away from it. I also don’t want the first thing people see when they come through the door to be his or the kids’ projects. I want a room to go that is safe for tornadoes, etc. A small half bath doesn’t fit us now. Wait until the kids get bigger; we really won’t be able to fit then. He doesn’t care. I told him I was miserable in this house. He told me fine that he would pack up and get an apartment and I can stay here. Why the fuck is he moving out? I DON’T WANT TO BE IN THIS HOUSE. He’s just going to live separately, we don’t make it official. No, if you’re going to move out and abandon me, it’s gonna be official. I want closure; I want to be able to move on. No, it’s not about money. The world isn’t just about money. It’s about being able to meet someone who might want to be with me.
He doesn’t get the fact that he argues with EVERYTHING. He blames me for arguing. I forget that if he asks me something, the correct answer is yes sir. Always. No matter what. It’s not how high you can jump, but just jump and hope for the best. I can’t even take something he said and expound on it in agreement. He doesn’t understand why I’m talking and ”arguing” with him if I’m in agreement. It’s called a conversation. If I just say yes to everything he says, then he will want me to say more. if I say more, he will accuse me of arguing. I have no clue what I’m supposed to say most of the time with him.
We’ve moved on past this again. Everything is ok. No one is moving out. At least not for now. Not until the next argument. It’s hard. This past time, I started going through the pros/cons of leaving him. Honestly, as bad as this sounds, the pros are sounding pretty nice. We could have a cat. A new dog once Karma dies. A house that works for us. A storm shelter. We could go to church. More money (it won’t go to spending on fun stuff for him). Most of all, stability. I won’t always be wondering if today will be the day he walks out. I won’t wonder if today I will be in tears because of another argument. I’m tired of feeling this way. It’s not just if I mess up, but one of the kids too. I pray that they do everything perfectly and that E has patience. Both are hard requests; both at the same time is nearly impossible. I won’t be worried about a potential car wreck because he has gotten pissed at some because they haven’t done something perfect (again).
I haven’t been to counseling in months. It will be teletherapy because of the virus when I do go. I need someone to talk to. I’m falling so hard, but have to be strong. I can do this. Or at least I’m told. But I don’t feel like it. I want this to be done. Not just the marriage. Life. I saw a show yesterday. One of the characters said that even when there is no light, you have to keep moving ahead and eventually you will find light at the end of the tunnel. I’ve been going on for years. There’s no light at all.
I’m tired. I’m alone. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this up.
A virus started spreading several months ago in the US. It’s now everywhere. The government has shut businesses down. Schools are out until the end of April, likely the rest of the year. We are working from home for work, have been for two weeks and will continue to do so for at least another three weeks. Everyone is concerned. But honestly, I like this new norm. We didn’t do much outside of work and hang out at home anyway. We didn’t go out with friends. We don’t do extra curricular activities. We just work and stay home. Now my husband has had to get used to not going anywhere. He’s a lot more extroverted. He keeps asking me if he can go to the store to get something. I tell him to put it in the amazon cart. Nope you can’t go. He can go to a small grocery store for essentials. “Can I go to the store to get some spray paint?” No!! He’s more at risk than the rest of the family. We are doing this for people like him. And we have to keep reminding him that he can’t go out.
The kids are enjoying S having no school. I haven’t seen her this happy in so long. It’s also a little sad. She doesn’t want to go back to school. She doesn’t have any friends she wants to see. She doesn’t want to see the teacher.
So we get to work from home now. This is great. It saves time and patience and money. I don’t want to go into work anyways. I don’t want to see the people I work with. Just seeing them makes my anxiety go up. Out of sight. Out of mind. At least I think that’s what is going on.
I interviewed for two jobs. The first job the person told me that they have put all hiring on hold while they figure out this coronavirus thing. The second one told me that they gave the job to someone who had been in the section for years. She called and turned me down over the phone and told me she wanted me to work over there and that they would just need to find a spot for me. I give up. There’s no spot for me. No one wants me. Who am I fooling? I don’t want to try anymore. I don’t think anyone will notice if I’m not here.
Counseling sessions are now on Zoom. I cancelled my appointments until I could meet in person again. I need the in person session. Even if I had it I wouldn’t be able to open up. I’m horrible. I need to open up. I need to tell someone how much I’m struggling. I don’t want to be alone anymore. I know there isn’t hope though. I know no one will care. I need someone to hold me. I need someone to tell me that this will get better. I need someone to tell me that I am loved.
I’m scared. I have no way forward. At least no way forward that I want to be a part of. I want to cut again. I want to feel the pain. To see the blood. To suffer.
This new norm allows me to isolate. This isn’t good for me but I don’t know where to turn. I don’t know who I can trust. Everyone would be better off without me.
“How are you doing?”
“I’m not strong enough.”
“Strong enough for what? For a particular thing?”
“For everything. For life”
I’m not strong enough to keep going with the kids. I have three kids plus a husband who might as well be a kid. I’m tired of the yelling. I’m tired of trying to bring everyone together. I’m tired of being the cheerleader. I’m tired from keeping everyone together. I can’t do it all. I can’t fix everyone’s tears. I can’t protect everyone. If I stopped, no one would care. If I wasn’t here, no one would care. If I wasn’t here, no one would notice.
I’m not strong enough for work. I’m not strong enough to keep things going there. I’m not strong enough to keep putting on a smiling face when I’m miserable. I’m not strong enough to have a voice. I’m not strong enough to get people to listen to me. I’m not strong enough to be a good worker. No one would miss me. No one wants me there anyways. Right now suicide is covered in life insurance policy. If I go through with it, Erik and the kids will be set. I’m worth more dead
I’m not strong enough to be a good friend. I have text messages and Facebook messages to answer and all I want to do is sit on the bed and cry.
I’m not strong enough to be strong. I’m not strong enough to stop the tears. I’m not strong enough to be alone. I’m not strong enough to feel.
I want to tell my counselor. But what do I tell her? How do I even fucking talk? Maybe I’m just making this all up for attention. Maybe I don’t have a problem really. Because if I really was suicidal I would have already killed myself right?
I’m scared. I don’t see anyway forward other than this. I don’t have anyone I can talk to. At the end of the day, I don’t want to talk about it. I just want someone to accept me and not judge me even if I go through with it.
I don’t want to be alone but I’m afraid not to be.
I don’t want people to see me like this.
I’m afraid people will see I’m not strong enough…