I’ve been reading some of my old blog posts. It occurs to me that not much has changed in my life. I have no hope of my life getting better. The kids and my husband are asleep on the sofa. It’s not even 7:30. I want to sleep but can’t. I can’t stop thinking about life. Or, rather, of wanting to die.
I’ve been fighting these feelings since I was a little kid, well over 20 years now. You would think the feelings would be easier to cope with. The feelings of wanting to go to sleep and not wake up.
I have two kids to take care of. They would miss me if I went through it, right? But would they really? The youngest is 16 months. If I do it soon then he won’t remember. The oldest is nearly five. I can’t remember things that I did or that happened to me when I was five. I don’t think she would remember me. I don’t want her – or anyone – to remember me once I die. My birth was a mistake and I wish it were to never have happened.
I have no one in “real life’ I can talk to. No one understands what it is like to have to convince yourself to stay alive everyday. I’m tired of that. Mentally tired. I don’t know where to go to. I don’t know if anyone would care anyway. I also don’t want anyone to “tell”. If I decide to go through with it, I want peace for myself and acceptance from others. I don’t want someone to try to talk me out of it.
Someone today told me that no one wants to see me gone.
I don’t believe that for one second. I didn’t believe that when I was 11. I don’t believe that now.
What proof do I have? No one tells me that they love me beyond the obligated folks. And I believe family tells me because that is what they are supposed to do. I don’t believe them.
Samantha wouldn’t remember me. It’s better to go through with it while she is younger. Then she won’t remember me. She won’t remember what a failure her mom is. She won’t remember how horrible of a person I am.
I don’t want to be remembered. I’m a horrible person who doesn’t deserve to live. Everyone believes that. They are just too polite to tell me.
I just have to make it to when this baby is born. Hopefully that will be sooner rather than later. Then everyone will just think I had PPD. No one will know the truth about how long I’ve suffered.
No one will put together how horrible of a person I am. No one will care. Actually everyone will care. Their life will be better. No one will miss me. And I can’t blame them. I deserve to feel like this.
So because my days lately hadn’t been shitty enough, it just keeps getting better.
Hubby pretty much refuses to talk to me. He won’t get up to go to work. He just wants to pout. I’m down watching Samantha and he wakes up. Wants to know if I was going to work. I told him that I would if he was going. He goes on about how I don’t want to be around him. That I should just have an abortion and get rid of the pregnancy since I don’t want to be pregnant.
I’m crying. I told him I want to keep the child and he argues with me saying I don’t,,,
He yells at me some more and the goes back in to the bedroom.
I kiss Samantha goodbye. Give her a big hug. Tell her I love her. I take off into the coldness with flip flops and a light jacket.
I walk down a stream bed behind our house, The water is cold. I find a good place along the bank to sit down. I cry.
I have no clue what I thought I was going to do, A part of me wanted to keep walking down to the River and just drown. A very big part of me did, I didn’t though. I regret that decision.
I got up and walked back to the house. My husband and daughter were waiting on the corner for me, I have no idea how ,long they had been there. I didn’t really care. I walked under the deck and continued crying there. He convinced me to come inside,
Into the bedroom to change out of the cold wet clothes. And there I cried more.
I finally made the walk downstairs. I called up to get my prescription filled. And we went to pick it up later that afternoon.
Arguing with him that he is the cause of how I’m feeling wouldn’t help. Nothing helps anymore.
So Samantha and I were making magic cookie bars for my Christmas party the next day. She was watching wild kratts. Hubby, while her back was turned, changed the tv show. I was teasing him about changing the show. Samantha started screaming because he changed her show off. He got pissed and went to sleep. And that’s how my evening ended…
Beginning of December… First day back for one of my employees who had been out of country. She looked at me and asked if I had changed something… Yes, I had a new makeup. She liked it. She said it looked like I had a pregnant glow. I thought nothing of it until a couple of days later when my cycle was late. Pregnancy test confirmed it…
I don’t want to be pregnant. I had every intention of killing myself for husband’s birthday. Being pregnant means that I won’t go through with it.
December 2nd. That’s the day I found out. And lost all hope…
It’s a couple of weeks before Christmas and i thought we had our plans all figured out. Hubby’s mom on Wednesday before Christmas, Thursday with hubby’s father and then Christmas Day with “Santa” and my parents. We had agreed to it. Saturday we would go back to his moms because she wanted to do a separate birthday thing for the little one. We agreed to this right after Thanksgiving. He even yelled at me and told me I better not change my mind. That we had agreed to the plan with his mom and that it couldn’t be changed.
Then my husband decides he wants to change it. Why? I have not a clue. Because he can. Because he knows that it would upset me. Because I can’t.
So Christmas would be spent with his dad. Christmas Eve with his mother. I told him we could be with his mother on Wednesday since my mom had to work. We could wrap presents on Christmas Eve. Spend Christmas with his father and do half of our Christmas on Christmas and Saturday and then go to his moms that day for S birthday. He didn’t like that either. His mom should come up for Samantha’s birthday. However I didn’t know when her party would be. And I didn’t want his mom ruining my parent’s anniversary and closing of their house. I told him she could come if he could guarantee she would be up there for one day and leave the next. He refused to do that and I held my own.
By the way, this whole argument took place in the car while I was driving to woke in the rain. He likes to pin me in these situations. He knows that I hate driving in the rain to begin with. So he can make my life pure hell doing this.
By this time i was so frustrated with him. I told him I didn’t care what he did. I was going to stay in Nashville. I was going to kill myself and he could marry my sister and take my life insurance money so he wouldn’t have to work again.
He kind of freaked out with that. He started listening to me. Not that I would get my way at all.
He called up his mom. He made a big deal out of her wanting to do Christmas and Samantha’s birthday on two separate days several days apart and then she came up with wanting to do it all in one day. So he terrorized me about that for no reason. It gets old after a while.
Then he claimed everything was because I was pregnant and my hormones are out of whack. No mister … It’s because you treat me like crap… Not brave enough to tell him that. I made up some lame excuse about being out of anxiety medicine. He bought it.
And things were better for then…
I’m 36 years old and have wanted to kill myself since I was 11. I’ve never actually gone through with trying. I never told my parents growing up and they still don’t know.
My childhood was rough. My dad was verbally abusive. I was scared of him. He didn’t believe in depression and my mom thought I was strong. I was too afraid to tell her how much I was hurting inside. I didn’t want her to be disappointed in me.
I have reoccurring nightmares of my dad raping me. I have no idea if it is true that he did. Or if it is a weird dream. It scares the heck out of me when I have it.
I went to counseling in college and then when I got out. I’ve tried antidepressants, psychiatrists, mental health exams, counseling. Nothing has eased the pain. No one could figure out what is wrong with me.
My husband is in love with my sister. He wants her to move in and to have a baby with her. I’m not getting pregnant quick enough for him. Truth is… I don’t want to be pregnant. It’s the one thing that would definitely stop me from going through with this. Or at least postpone.
I have life insurance policy that would pay off the house. My husband could get a less stressful job. My sister would move in. He would be happy. She would be happy. My kid would be happy.
The people at work hate me. I would be replaced and life would go on there. They all would be happy.
Everyone would be happy that I am gone. And maybe I would finally be at peace.
I had planned on killing myself Nov 10th. It was my birthday. I decided not to since my husband gets more money if I wait until next year. So I might do it for his birthday January 10.
I’ve started taking my anxiety medicine again. It doesn’t touch the depression just the anxiety. Before I was afraid to go through with killing myself. Now I’m not. Now I see it as an only solution.
There’s one person at work who will listen and help where he can. I have fallen in love with him. I can’t tell him. I’m not good enough for him. I’m not good enough for anyone. I never will be. He knows that I’m dealing with wanting to die. I don’t think he gets how serious I am. He’s the only one in my life that knows about the depression right now.
I feel so completely alone and ashamed. I can’t even be happy right. I’m a failure at everything I touch.
No one deserves the burden of being my friend. I just want to die. I want it to be over.
I made it through my birthday. I wish I hadn’t. Actually I wish I would have had enough courage to kill myself when I was young.
Every day is so hard. Very few people know about my struggle. Not even my husband does at this point.
What would they do? Try to stop me? I don’t want to be stopped. I want the pain to end permanently. There’s no other way.
I’m all alone in this. No matter how many people think they are here for me, they don’t know me. They don’t live inside my head. They don’t have to deal with the thoughts.
I started taking my anxiety medicine again. I remembered why I quit it before. Besides the sleepiness. It takes the anxiety out of the depression. As in I’m no longer afraid to die anymore. I just don’t care about living. Looking at the pros and cons for it even for others it just doesn’t work out in “living”‘s favor.
I don’t think alot of people that deal with depression get the suicidal depression. You truly can’t get this until you’ve been here. And it’s even more different for those of us that deal with it for long periods of time.
I’m tired of putting on a smile and pretending everything is OK. At work I have to do it.
I feel so terribly alone in this. And scared. I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of the pain. I’m tired of life.
I asked a coworker if things got better. He told me they always do. Though what was I to expect. Him to tell me they don’t?
I have been told things get better for most of my life. Since I was 11 at least. Know what? I’m still at a point where I have to ask that. And I’m still at the point where I don’t believe anyone who says that things get better.
One more week to go. One more week before I’m at peace or I’ve chickened out again. Or I’ve failed at something. Likely it’s more along the lines of failing. That’s the only thing I’m good at. I’m nothing but a failure.
I truly believe this world would be a better place without me. I’m going to go through with it this year. I have to. I can’t do this anymore.
No one knows this time. No one except the few that read this blog. Everyone else thinks things have corrected themselves and I’m happy. That’s no where near true. I just get tired of reliving all the feelings. And people trying to convince me that things get better.
I’ve thought about planning my funeral. Know what? I don’t want one. I don’t want anyone to remember me. I wish I had the little brain thingy from MIB. I would delete my existence from everyone’s memory. I don’t want to be remembered. I want to leave and no one be burdened with ever have known me.
My biggest regret in life right now? That I didn’t go through with this earlier. That I was too stupid to go through it. That I’m still alive.
I started taking my medicine again. It screws with my memory but I have to have some relief. It makes me sleepy but doesn’t keep me asleep. So I’m awake like every hour or so.
The thing about this… I honestly don’t want to get better. I want to go through this. I finally have the courage (I think) to do this. I don’t want anything to stand in the way of peace.
As I say this I know that I probably won’t do this right either – that I would pretty much screw this up. I feel so trapped. Can’t move. Alone.