I bought life insurance yesterday. It’s not supposed to start until June I think. And then once it starts, it will take two years of paying in to it before it covers suicide. So I just have to endure for two more years, right? Well two years and a couple of months.
I have enough coverage that by that time, my husband will be able to pay off most of the house along with my funeral. Not all of the house, but most of it. It seems that my life will be worth more by dying in two years. He’ll be able to find someone else to be with. He’s a great guy; he deserves someone better than me.
I start a new antidepressant on Sunday. I’m going to give this six weeks to work, if it doesn’t, then I’m not going back to the psychiatrist. This will be my 14th try at an antidepressant. I’m still trying to figure out if I should go back to my counselor. Honestly, nothing works anymore. And I’m tired of trying to find something that will. I don’t know what else to do, who else to turn to. I have no friends, no one outside of my internet world. And I’m starting to get to the point I just want to block those people out too. I guess I’m alone because I want to be alone. Because I can’t handle people anymore. Tears run so freely, and my thoughts are all jumbled. I’m scared but in a way I’m at peace. Trying to convey these feelings to someone else is really hard. Trying to deal with pain I can’t describe or justify is hard.
My next question is who do I write good bye to when I don’t think anyone will care about my death? Just the thought that no one would care is depressing. I don’t know why the thought is so depressing to me. I’ve lived this way for so much of my life. I’m used to not being cared about, but yet the thought is still hard to deal with.
I’m tired of crying. Tired of wondering when life is going to get better. Just tired of everything, of everybody, and yes, of living.