December 15th

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. 

Pregnant

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…

Figuring out Christmas Plans – December 14th morning

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 made it through…

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. 

Scared and alone

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. 

Medicine

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. 

Alone and Afraid

The days are getting harder and harder for me to deal with. I’m starting to realize that things won’t get better. That life won’t get better. 

Someone told me tonight that there is always hope.  I don’t feel it. I want to go through with dying. I want to stop the pain. I want the journey of life to be over. 

Very few people get how I feel. Very few people understand. All these people want me to stay alive though. They don’t understand the feelings. They don’t understand the pain I’m in.  I just want all the feelings to stop. I’m scared and alone. 

Things are getting worse with Erik. I always seem to be doing something wrong. Something to get yelled at for. To him I’m such a horrible wife. I feel like that all the time. I feel like everyone would be happier if I wasn’t here.  Even if I broke up with him no one would want me. I’m ugly. I’m socially inept. Why would anyone want to be near me at alll. I’m scare and alone. 

I wish I could talk to my counselor from college again.  Though I’m ashamed at where I’m at. I can’t even be happy right. I’m so stupid I can’t do this right. I’m alone and afraid. 

My uncle…

I still can hear my mom say the words… Your uncle died of a self inflicted gun shot wound. I wasn’t terribly close. I mean we visited but he wasn’t my best friend. The way he died … 

Helł, I’ve been through my fair share of suicidal times. I know head wise that there was nothing I could have done. There’s nothing I could have done to prevent his death. But still I wonder why I didn’t see what was going on… I mean wouldn’t a person who has struggled with suicidal feelings for 25 years be able to pick out someone who is dealing with it?
My husband claims he wasn’t depressed that it was medical issues that led him to kill himself. Basically he didn’t want to fight the cancer. So either he was lying when he told us all what the prognosis was (he was stage 0) or he was fighting depression. I’m thinking he was depressed. I’m tired of my husband putting words in other people’s mouths telling them what he thinks. 
So why didn’t I see it?  Was I too wrapped up in my own life to care?  I was too busy to stop by and see him. I was too busy to shoot him a simple email asking how he was doing. And now… He’s dead. 
And I’m such a horrible person… Because while I’m sorry he went through everything he did and thought things were so hopeless he had to kill himself… I’m jealous and mad. I want to die more than anything. I want to kill myself and he was able to go through with it. And my mom is so upset that I hate going through with it myself also. 
But honestly, that’s where I am.  I’m more scared than I’ve ever been. And like I’ve said I’ve felt this way for a long time. I’m afraid this is the last chance I will get to go through with it. Anything past this and Samantha might remember me. And I don’t want her to. I don’t want to burden her with my memory.   So it’s this year or I have to live out the rest of my life. I can’t do this any longer. 25 years of the pain is enough. 
I’m a couple months out so I’m going to start writing good bye notes, preparing my funeral wishes. It shouldn’t take long to do all that.  No one will really miss me. So who do I say good bye to?  And I don’t want a funeral.  I don’t want an expensive party that no one shows up to.  And the few that do show up is out of obligation and not because they care. 
I’m done with this life. Honestly, I just wish I could tell someone … So the burden isn’t so heavy. I have no one to trust at this point. The one person I do trust with this I’ve leaned on too much. I don’t want to bother him with this. 
I have to be a big girl and deal with this alone. I can’t admit what I’m planning otherwise I will be stopped. No one will understand. I’d just be some horrible person that was selfish. That’s all I am. A selfish ass. A selfish ass that is hurting terribly inside. 
Confession #436.56b (yes I made up that number)… I stopped taking my medicine. I know in a way that is one of the reasons I feel like I do. However, like I said earlier I don’t want anything to stand in my way. I don’t want to feel better momentarily just to be thrown back in the grips of depression afterwards. I want the courage and motivation to go through with this. I don’t need an unnatural high to postpone the inevitable. 

65 Days

I fell down the steps this morning. My sister asked what happened and my husband responded that I was staring at my phone and not paying attention and fell down the stairs. When I said I wasn’t even looking at my phone, and the stairs were slippery he then said it was because I hadn’t vaccummed. It’s always my fault with him. I can never do anything right. I’m a horrible person. I get it. And I deserve it. I deserve it every time I get yelled at. I deserve to cry. I deserve to be alone. 

Putting on a smile is getting tiring. I can’t keep this up any longer. I can’t pretend I’m someone who I’m not.  And I don’t want the questions from others… What’s wrong… Why am I not smiling?  i have the perfect life. I have no reason to be unhappy. 

I keep trying to decide. Is this really what I want… After this weekend, I think I’m at peace with my decision. In a way, I wish there was another way, but this is the only way. 

My husband loves my sister. He lights up with her around. I’m around for the sex and paycheck, and that’s it. He wants to be with her. It gets more and more apparent every time I see him with her.  I‘m not going to stand in the way. 

I don’t believe in divorce. Even if I did, I don’t think I could be alone. No one would want to be with me. I’m a horrible person. I’m fat and ugly. I wouldn’t want anyone’s pity for having a failed marriage. And I can’t do these sleepless nights where I just want to cry… Or more recently where I can’t stop crying. 
I see no other way out than this. Erik will get the insurance money. He can pay off the house. Or use it to buy something better. My sister can move in with him. Samantha will be happy with her around and won’t need me. And better yet, I’ll be at peace. A peace I haven’t completely known for… Well, forever. 
I can’t think of one person who would miss me. Everyone would turn out for the better. 
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t scared. I’m terrified. What happens when you die?  Does everything just stop?  Will things get better?  Will I really be at peace?  Or will I just go to hell for being such a bad person?  I can’t imagine God would want someone like me. Will Hell be better?  At this point I’m not sure I care, as long as I’m away from here. 
I don’t want to die alone. But I suppose I deserve to die as I have lived. I’m a horrible person and no one deserves to have to be around me.