Confused, part two

The last couple of days in Colorado were great, likey because E was sick for part of it and slept alot. Today he was up and in a grumpy mood. Everything I said or did was wrong. I was happy when he was sleeping because then I could be myself without feeling like I’m walking on eggshells with him.

I had previously decided that I was undecided on living. In fact I think I was even leaning towards staying alive.

But then today happened. And it wasn’t particularly rough, at least comparatively. I’m not sure why he upset me so much. Maybe because I was already in a reflective mood, trying to figure out what to do. And he just typed the scale back in favor of dying.

I basically either need to leave Erik or die. Either way the kids lose one parent. At least with me dying, they get money out of the deal. E could pay off the house. Everyone is happy. They don’t have to be around someone like me.

I’m not sure what to do. It’s a permanent decision. I’m scared and feel all alone.


I came here to make a decision on what comes next. To live or die. I haven’t. I’m only more confused about everything. I’ve wanted to die for so long. The pain is hard. The struggle is hard. And we are leaving tomorrow and I’m no closer to answer.

I looked at W’s face and saw him smile and questioned everything. I wouldn’t be able to see him smile again. S would have to go through the pain of losing me. W won’t remember me, but S would.

But the pain is significant. I’m scared and don’t know what to do. I don’t know who to trust. I don’t know why I should go on. And then I see his smile and hear his laugh and I realize how confused I am.

Things aren’t going to get better. I know that. I know that I am going to have to deal with the pain and battle the thoughts for the rest of my life. I have absolutely no hope that I will feel other’s normal… only mine, and that is painful.

I see other people smile and wonder why I can’t be that way. Why my smiles are typically forced, because they are expected. Or because smiles get less questions. And I don’t have to answer that question of how I’m doing today. Why, yes, I’m peachy. But I’m not. I’m far from it. Every moment is hard to get through. And I don’t know how to tell people that. Most folks wouldn’t know how to respond to it anyway. So I save both of us the awkwardness of the truth. And say that I’m fine.

A friend told me that he would feel sorry for my kids if I went through with it. To me, my kids would benefit by not having me around. What do I provide them? What do I provide anyone? Nothing.

There are so many doubts, both ways. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who I can talk to. But I need to make this decision and move on. It is tearing me up inside, and has been for quite a while.

I’m not near as strong as people think I am. But I have to be strong enough to do what’s best for everyone else. I just have to figure what that is out.


Fall break time means spending some time on vacation this year. This year we made our Colorado trip since we didn’t do it this summer.

It’s snowy up in the mountains. I was hoping for more snow than what we got but I guess something is better than nothing. Even without the snow, the mountains are peaceful and inviting. They give me a setting that is easier to think through big issues.

I had a friend way back in college that told me that I needed to make a decision and stick with it. We were putting together a puzzle together. It was another rough night and she was there for me. She told me that I had struggled with wanting to kill myself for long enough. I needed to make a decision and see it through. If I wanted to stay alive, put all my energy into it. If I wanted to kill myself, go ahead. But that I needed to stop living in limbo. Stop torturing myself with the decision. At the time I thought it was mean. Of course she was supposed to tell me to live. But looking back I understand now.

Recently a friend told me something similar. I’m having a hard time with this decision, especially with some of the things he has talked me through that make me doubt things. This time the advice was appreciated and understood.

At the end of the day, they are right. I need to make a decision and do my best to follow through.

At this point, I’m still leaning towards going through with it, except with a date change. Typically the date has always been on my birthday. Now I’m thinking E’s birthday. It would be my birthday gift to him. A me free world for him. Insurance money. And I would get one last holiday season with the kids.

I know no one can make this decision for me. But I’m conflicted. I need closure. I can’t keep this up. And don’t know what to do.

I’m ok, but I’m not

I spend a majority of the time putting on that smile so people won’t know, for a variety of reasons… I don’t want to explain the feelings. Most people wouldn’t understand them. Hell, most of the time I don’t understand them. Most of the time it takes me a while to process them through to figure out how I feel. So it takes someone who knows me better than myself to help me through it. And since I don’t let many people in, then those people are few and far between. And honestly the people who are close to me, I don’t want to hurt them with my pain. But I don’t want to get through it by myself. Actually that’s more of a need than want. I don’t think I actually can get through it by myself.

I talked to one of those friends this week about things going on. Afterwards, I thanked him. He told me it wasn’t a favor to talk to me. That’s a new concept to me. I think of myself as a burden. As a friend that is hard to put up with. I don’t understand why anyone would want to be friends with me. To talk me through the rough times, again and again and again… and not have a different outcome. I don’t get better.

33 days

The tears flow freer than the words…

Yesterday, my husband yelled at me because I wanted to leave damp clothes in the dryer to finish drying. He said they were all dry. And that if I thought some were still damp, I needed to come down there and find the damp ones. Only the damp ones should be in the dryer, instead of all the clothes. He then left for five hours. He wouldn’t answer texts. I didn’t know if he was ok. I wasn’t ok. He came back home, and went straight up to bed. Locked the door. Moved all the clothes I was packing out of the way (so I ended up refolding everything on the bed). Next morning wouldn’t be in the same room as me. Everywhere he went, he locked the door behind him. He refused to ride in to work with us. He wouldn’t talk to us. S asked on the way to school if she could tell people about what daddy did. No… that stays at home. I’m teaching my 5 year old how to cover up. To lie. To suppress her feelings.

Maybe things will get better. Maybe they won’t be like this forever. I doubt it.

In that moment, and a lot of moments following, I wanted to die.

On top of things with my husband, things are strained with my best friend. Someone that I was literally closest to more than anyone. Who I wanted to be there. Who I could tell the truth to. Who wouldn’t judge me. The person I stayed alive for.

I want someone to hold me while I cry. To tell me things will get better. To lie.

But at the end of the day, I know there’s no one there that will hold me while I cry. No one to tell me things will get better because they won’t. I’m a failure. And unloved. No one will love me because I’m not worth it. No one will miss me. No one cares.

I want this to end. But I would fail at that too. Just like everything else. I’m trapped. I don’t know where to go. I don’t know what to do. I want everything to be over.

If I survive this, I’m not trusting again. No more friends. No more hurt. Alone. But no one to answer to.

Everyone tells me things will get better. They don’t. They get worse. I can’t take anymore.

The tears flow freer than the words. Everything is blurry. Everything hurts. I want it to stop. I’m scared.


In counseling, we were supposed to relate a conflict and tell how that made us feel. E was then to validate my feelings. E argued with the feelings that I had. He didn’t understand how I was feeling the way I said I was. Honestly, I felt much worse then what I said I was. And he thought what I said was too dramatic. This is something I struggle with. Actually several things.

I struggle with putting a name to my feelings. Heck, I have a hard time untangling what I’m feeling to make sense of the feelings. it’s like everything is so intertwined. I can’t unravel the feelings to put a name on. The feelings are just there.

How do I explain that feeling? I have no idea. I just know living with it is hard. Putting words to those feelings are hard. Explaining them to another person who hasn’t been where I am before is hard. At least someone who has been through what I have will understand the frustration in figuring out what I’m feeling. Will have patience that I may not always have that answer right away. And that after talking about it for a while, I might change my mind on what I’m feeling… or more precisely, change the word for what I’m feeling.

Maybe that’s one of the reasons why I struggle with telling people how badly I feel. I told someone a while ago how badly I was feeling. Her answer was basically I don’t come across that way. I seem “put together” and happy. That’s because I use all of my energy being happy for everyone. So next time you ask me how I’m doing, I’ll likely tell you I’m ok. I promise you I’m not.

And I don’t feel this way just to get attention. Hell, who would I get attention from? Do you really think that I want to bother people with my problems? Do you really think that I want people to know how weak I truly am? How I’m holding on by threads? That I can’t even be happy right? I don’t want attention for this. Attention would mean I would have to talk about it all the time. I don’t necessarily want to have to answer the how are you questions. I don’t want to have to be constantly fighting the tears.

At the same time I do want a circle of real life, non internet friends I can talk to. Someone who will physically hold me while I cry. Who will tell me things will be ok. Who will include me in the fun, even if they know my answer will be no. Who will keep asking and prodding until the answer is yes. And once the answer is yes, accept me for who I am, and make me feel comfortable. I have that relationship with one friend. Someone who is there for me. Someone who won’t judge.

If I’m sad around someone it’s not because they make me unhappy… quite the opposite. It’s that I trust them so much that I know that they will accept me whether I’m happy or sad. That I will be truly welcome. That I don’t have to spend all my energy being happy. That I can take my mask off.

36 days

The feelings are overwhelming. What feelings they are, I don’t know, but they are overwhelming all the same. It’s emptiness. Numbness. And excruciating pain. More, but they are so intermingled that I can’t tell what they are.

I want to cry. I want the tears to run free. I have to be quiet so E won’t know. More than anything, I just want someone to hold me. I want someone to hold me while I cry. Lie. Tell me everything will be ok. Even if someone did that, I would still feel completely alone. So I guess it doesn’t matter.

It’s 36 days until my birthday. A little over a month. The day I look forward to every year. And dread. I look forward to the hope it brings. I want to die so badly. I want my birthday to be the day. I dread the day after. Because I know I won’t be strong enough, brave enough, to go through it. So I will be stuck for another year. Waiting for that day. Hoping that the next year that one thing I lived for at the last birthday is no longer there.

Having one reason to hold on to, to live for means I make it through another year. But what happens if that one reason goes away and I can’t find another reason? I guess to some extent it’s better. Then I’d be making the decision for myself, versus someone else telling me not to do it. And I’m free to make whatever decision I want.

I don’t want to die alone. But I have no other choice. No one wants to be with me. So I’ll have to be ok with this. I’ll have to die alone. This is the only way. I will die as I have lived. Alone.

I matter to no one. No one will miss me. No one will care. They would probably be happy.. E had even told me at one time that he wouldn’t miss me if I died. Dying is part of living. He’d be able to get along ok without me. So what’s the point?

If I don’t matter to anyone. If my husband doesn’t care if I died. If every day is a battle that hurts. Why should I go on? Everyone would be better off without me. The kids would be better off. My husband would be better off.

How do I say good bye? Do I say good bye? I don’t want anyone remembering me. Since everyone would be better off without me, I don’t want them remembering me. I don’t want the constant reminders that I lived to be there.

47 days

I want to write. I’m struggling tonight. I want to get the feelings out. But what happens when those feelings are so muddled and intertwined that you can’t get them out? That you can’t even figure out what you are feeling. You don’t know where to start… only that you are hurting. Deeply.

I’m alone. I know that. I know that people won’t notice if I’m not here. People won’t care. The world would go on the same without me. S would go to school. W the sitters. E would do what he needs to do. According to him I’m not needed. The people at work wouldn’t notice. They’d probably be happy that I’m not there. Anyone else would be better off without me.

If I’m not needed, and living is so painful, what’s the point of going on? Why keep trying? Why fight the feelings that tear me apart? They aren’t going away. I’m not going to get better. All I know is that I’d much rather be dead than alive.

I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of telling myself tomorrow is a new day just to find out that tomorrow sucks just as much as yesterday.

I want someone to hold me while I cry. I want someone to tell me that I matter to them. I want to be open minded enough to trust if they tell me that, that they mean it.

I’m tired of just barely getting through the day. I want this to end. I have no faith that I could actually kill myself without failing at that too. But status quo isn’t working. Something’s got to change. Something’s got to give.

I don’t know who to turn to. I wish I could talk to someone who won’t just automatically convince me that living is the best thing because that is what society thinks the answer is supposed to be. I wish I could talk to someone who will help me rationalize the decision to stay alive (or not). Who will talk me through it, with the understanding that the answer may not come up with me living. Someone that isn’t afraid to let me go. Someone, who if the answer comes up with me not living, won’t let me die alone.


I had mentioned when I came home on Friday that I was likely going to be going to the Farm. So when I mentioned Saturday morning that I was going to the Farm, it didn’t seem like a big deal. Little did I know that I would be starting a big argument.

I had mentioned my sister and her fiancé would be there, and that if Erik wanted to move the safe, that it would probably be a good day. They were also going to go out shooting, and he might enjoy hanging out with them.

Well, apparently, my parents are just trying to split us apart. I’m spending the whole weekend with them. (I’m spending Saturday with them). They don’t appreciate him. We don’t include him when we do stuff. So I pointed out that I often feel left out of conversations between him and his mom, and what him and his mom do together. That I feel unappreciated by her too. It’s been a constant complaint of mine. She tries to wedge us apart. (He’ll acknowledge this when not in an argument where the point is being made). No… no she doesn’t, and she does all kind of things for our benefit. She watches the kids. She gave us money for the down payment on a house. Ummm… you do realize my mom watches the kids too? That my parents were going to give us a down payment for the house we were both madly in love with. He claims that he had no idea that my parents were going to do that. I still remember the phone conversations he had with them. I bet I still have the text messages. I can’t tell if he is lying or if he doesn’t remember. I don’t know that it matters. And then he launches in that it isn’t a competition. I told him it wasn’t meant as a competition. That I was using what he feels shows that his mom is appreciative of him to show that my parents are appreciative too.

He told me that he didn’t think counseling would work, that it isn’t even worth his time and money. I probably picked out a horrible counselor like I did last time and that it wouldn’t work. I told him it didn’t work last time because he refused to go to the sessions we were supposed to be going to. He claims that we decided not to go because the counselor wasn’t competent. That wasn’t the case.

He told me that he and the kids got along well without me. That I wasn’t needed. That I could leave and not come back. I countered with that if I was going to do that, I’d just go ahead and kill myself. I’m not needed. I’m not wanted. At least then he would get the life insurance money. “Oh that again?!” Apparently, I was just saying that to get attention. I told him I’ve felt that way for months, that I’ve told him before that I was struggling.

I hugged S & W and told them that I loved them. I walked out. I didn’t know where I was going or what I was going to do… or if I’d come back. I knew I couldn’t stay in the house. I couldn’t listen to E continue to tell me that I wasn’t needed or wanted.

I walked down to the creek. Walked a good ways down along the creek. Found a rock to sit on… and cried. I didn’t know what to do. All I could do was cry. I texted a friend for a while. A friend who told me that the kids needed me. That I am loved. I didn’t believe it. I’ve had a husband tell me the opposite for years. I’d been crying for a good while, well over an hour and a half. What would happen to the kids if I died? What would happen to the kids if I lived? Everyone would be better off. I don’t know why, but I got up. I looked upstream, and back towards home. I cried. I didn’t know whether to go deeper into the woods, hoping no one would find me, or whether to walk back home. I decided to walk back home.

I sat out on the porch for a while. W kept knocking on the window and saying momma. I walked in, and walked upstairs. The kids were happy. They really didn’t need me. I stayed in one of the guest bedrooms and cried for quite a while. E came in and was like he isn’t getting to spend any time with me if all I do is sit in the bedroom. So I come downstairs, and he promptly goes to sleep. Then he gets up, goes outside and weeds the garden, then comes back in and goes upstairs and pouts.

We eventually re-connect and are able to talk. The kids go to sleep. We eat dinner, and play a new game together.

Everything is ok… for the night.


E offered this morning to go out to the farm to help… but my mom had to get along with him. No, thanks, I think we got this. He doesn’t recognize that he plays any part in how people react to him. Yes, I know my mom is responsible for her reactions. But E called me a bitch in front of her, my dad, and the kids… what did he think would happen. That she would stand there and take it. When I mentioned this to him the other day, he basically told me that he called me a bitch because I am a bitch. Well, ok, thanks for clarifying that.

And I believe him. I believe that I am a fuck up like he called me a while ago. That I am a bitch like he’s called me numerous times. That I am worthless.

And I believe what he says. I also believe that I don’t deserve to live. That not only will no one miss me, but they will be happy I’m not here. I truly believe that. At this point, I don’t know if anyone will be able to convince me otherwise. I had asked him years ago what would happen if I died… would he be sad? He said that death is a part of life, and he wouldn’t be upset at losing me. I figure that is still the case.

I made a marriage counseling appointment for us mid September. I have a drs appointment the week before and I’ll ask to start back on my antidepressant again. I’m going through the motions of trying to get better. I don’t think it will work. I promised my counselor in college that I would do everything I can to survive. I’m trying that now.

A friend mentioned that I was formulating a suicide plan with walking down to the creek. I denied it at the time. It’s been a long standing thought… but truthfully, I am starting to think he is right. I’ve been ignoring how bad my feelings have gotten lately. Not necessarily ignoring… but not necessarily doing anything to move things in a positive direction.

But honestly, I don’t want them in a positive direction. I have fought so long and so hard, I don’t want things to temporarily get better. I’m most of the way down this path. I want to continue walking it to the end. I want to die. I want to kill myself.

I don’t know what is so much harder about tonight. I’ve typed those words before. Everyone who reads my blog knows that I am almost always holding on by a thread. Tonight it’s different. I’m in a different place. I’m connecting words to feelings. Everything is so much more real… so much more intense.

Maybe another difference tonight… it’s not just about wanting to die. The feelings are more than that. They’ve been growing to be more than that for a while. Just like every year around this time, when I start switching over from the mindset of I could never actually go through with it to more of a mindset of maybe it’s for the best to follow through.

But what happens if I fail? What happens if I have to face everyone alive the next day? I would be a failure. A failure for trying to go through with it. And a failure for not succeeding.

I don’t know what to do. I’m exhausted. I’m scared. I want the pain to be over. I don’t care how.