Last Christmas

No one knows this yet, but this will be my last Christmas. The depression has had its toll on me. I have no real life friends I can trust left. I’ve started back on my anxiety medicine. It will take away the anxiety of going through with it. I will go through with it on my husband’s birthday. Give him the ultimate gift from me … freedom. Freedom to not have to be with me anymore.

I wanted my last Christmas with the kids to be perfect. The gifts I was getting the kids from zulily ended up getting switched up with someone else’s gifts. The majority of the toys the kids were getting aren’t coming. And I found out too late since I had them delivered to my parents instead of our house. So much for a perfect Christmas.


I lie here awake in bed waiting for something I know won’t happen, but still holding out hope that it will. Tears replace much needed sleep. I lie here awake planning out my last day.

I started taking my Zoloft again. I thought it would help with the depression. To some extent it has. I remember the issue with taking it though.

It makes me scarily ok with suicide. Like I’ve accepted this is ok. The anxiety and fear surrounding it is gone, just as the anxiety and fear surrounding a lot of things is gone. The last time I was going to do it, I got so very close. I had said good byes. The knife was there. I was by myself. All I had to do was push down and I would have been free. Why didn’t I have that courage? Why did I decide to turn around and go back inside? This time hopefully the anxiety of it will be gone and I’ll have the courage.

I don’t know if I’ve felt this is the correct path forward more than I ever have now. I know this is what I have to do. I’m not depressed. I’m not anxious. I’m not fearful.

Just because I look back on a life full of pain and say that it’s not worth living anymore doesn’t mean I’m crazy. It means I’ve given up on people. It means I’ve given up on life. It means I’ve given up.

I have nothing more left to give to society. I’m worthless. No one would notice my being gone. If they do, then ultimately they would be better off without me. This is a good thing.

In a month and two days I will go through with it. I’m starting to interview to change jobs but I wonder what the point is. Is it just a waste of time to try to move when I don’t even want to live? If I’m going to kill myself I want my life insurance policy to pay out. Usually there is a waiting period on suicide. The one I’m under now, I’ve met that waiting period. If I move jobs I’ll have to wait another five years for the life insurance to cover it. I can’t get through another five years. I need this to happen now.

Why is it considered ok to kill an unborn baby but I’d be considered crazy for killing myself? Why can’t I be granted that power without being looked down upon? I guess it doesn’t matter. No one cares anyway. This will be no different.

E will be happy. Everyone will be happy that I’m gone.

I just want to be held right now. I want someone to tell me through my tears that I mattered. That they still love me even though I’m not strong enough to do this. To do something everyone else gets through so easily… to live. That even though I’m a failure, I’m still loved.

I need to talk to someone badly. But I don’t know who anymore. Everyone gets frustrated listening to me since I never get better. I wish the tears would stop. I wish life would stop.

I’m scared. I’m alone.

If I didn’t reach out to people to stay in touch no one would do the same to me. No one, but two people, would check on me. I wonder how long I’ll be dead before people realize that I’m gone? Will they ever realize I’m gone? Or am I just a shadow to everyone? Hidden in the darkness…


I want to slip out of this world quietly.

I want someone to hug me one last time. Someone to tell me that I mattered to someone. That the pain I go through living was worth it to someone.

I want to go to sleep and never wake up. I want to have eternal rest. I’m tired. There’s no amount of sleep that will help.

I’m scared of living. I’m scared of dying. God help me, I know what the next step has to be. Please don’t judge me or my family for it.

I’m alone in the pain. I don’t have anyone I can have a candid conversation with about this. Even if I did, I’m afraid that there’s not much they can say to convince me otherwise. And I don’t want another person to feel guilty for not being able to save me. So I have to do this alone.

Just as I have lived, I shall die…alone.


I have another counseling appointment. Truth is, I’m tired of opening up to people. I’m tired of trusting people. She wants me to do individual counseling with another therapist. I have to open up to someone else. I have to put myself out there and hope that I’m accepted. That I won’t be judged.

And at the end of the day, I’m not sure it will change anything. I will still want to die.

Why should I trust when I will still go through with killing myself. I don’t want another person involved. I don’t want another person to feel guilty for not being able to save me. If I push people away and not let them in, then it will be easier to go through with this. And no one will feel guilty for what I did.. there will be no one.

Hidden Demons

I laid on the sofa, thinking of everything that’s happened lately. The rush of emotions overtook me, and I just started crying.

It was the perfect day to do it. I had taken the day off. I was completely alone. My husband was out of town, would be back early enough to pick up the kids. He would come home first, and get the note, alone. He would be able to have time to process what happened before picking up the kids. He would find the body and have it removed before the kids saw. W wouldn’t remember me. S would only have a few memories of me.

W locked S out of the bathroom this morning. She melted down because she was afraid of being separated from me, that she would never see me again. I opened up the door and hugged her and told her I would always be here for her. I lied to her to calm her down. What happens if I’m not strong enough?

I answered no to a question that I should have answered yes to. I said I was ok, when I really wanted to say that I was scared and needed someone to sit with me. That in that moment, I needed someone to tell me I was wanted. I said I wasn’t going to do it, when more than anything I wanted to.

I took a walk, figuring either it would be the last walk, or it would calm me down. I remembered how close we were to Christmas. That more than anything, I want my kids to have a happy Christmas. That I didn’t want them to have to bury me before it. It’s something to keep me going. But after that, what is there? I live from one small milestone to the next, not knowing what will be that thing I need to have hope in to make it to the next day.

My husband asked me what I wanted for Christmas. The truth is nothing… I’m not sure how much longer after Christmas I can make it. I don’t want stuff bought specifically for me, just to have to give it away after I die.

There’s so much to talk about, so many hidden demons that have been stuffed in a small closet. I can’t keep the door shut. Anytime one thing is remembered, everything overwhelms me.

I’m exhausted from the crying and fighting the thoughts. And the exhaustion is making it harder to fight everything. It’s a vicious cycle. And I’m losing.

Forgive me please

I need someone to talk to. Badly. Someone who gets how I feel. Someone I don’t have to talk to but gets the pain without having to put it into words. Someone sitting beside me, not screens away.

However, I’m busy pushing everyone away. I’m fine. I’ve been like this for years. I’ll be ok. I don’t need help. Until I’m left alone, praying for someone to text or call. Trying to hold back the flood of tears. A wall between me and them. Protection. A shell. Hell. Pure hell. A lonely shell. A reminder I’m not worth anything.

I’m scared as shit. And I haven’t been like this in years. The pain isn’t numb anymore. The feelings are overwhelming. It’s hard to hide them. It’s hard to hide the tears.

Someone can tell me that I should look at things logically. That I shouldn’t let words hurt me. They do. They hurt alot.

“It wouldn’t matter if you died” … “We don’t need you, we got along fine without you” well, let’s test that. Let’s really test it. As a reward, you get the life insurance money.

Well I’m here to tell you, words matter. Words matter a lot. And I don’t care how many times someone tells me that I matter, I will still remember that everyone gets along fine without me. That it won’t matter if I died.

I’m scared.

I’m alone.

I’m hurting.

I don’t have the strength to pull myself out this time. I don’t want to pull myself out this time. I don’t want to constantly fight this. I want this to be the end.

Please forgive me.


I’m completely alone with the thoughts. I don’t know who to turn to, where to go. Nights hurt a lot.

I’ve started cutting again. I feel the blade cut my skin. First one arm, then the other. But I’m still numb. I turn my arm over. I want to just run the blade down the middle, over the main vein. Let the blood flow out. Give up. I don’t. I just cry.

I got so close that day. All I had to do was press down. How come I couldn’t press down? How come I turned around and went back home? It was probably one of the closest times I’ve ever had. And I just couldn’t do it. I wanted to so badly. Every one says I won’t do it. Maybe they are right. Maybe I am just doomed to live this life forever. I don’t want them to be right. I want there to be a light at the end of the tunnel. I want this to be the light at the end of the tunnel. But it’s not… Yet.

He wouldn’t care. He’s told me they get along fine without me. He’s told me he wouldn’t be sad if I died. He’s told me to leave and never come back. He’s told me no one else would love me. I believe him. I believe all of that. I believe no one would love me. I believe if I leave, I would be alone the rest of my life.

My oldest gave me a hug the other day. Told me she didn’t want me to leave. I was taken aback by it. I’m going to let her down. I’m going to fail in her eyes. But I can’t keep doing this.

I can’t keep living this way. Something’s got to give. I’ll leave behind life insurance. E will be able to pay off the house. No one will need money. They won’t need me.

Nothing matters anymore. I’m alone. That’s the best place to be right now. Less people to hurt. Less people to say good bye to. Less people to notice.

Struggling Considerably

I realized this morning that yesterday would likely be my last birthday. Considering how hard they are for me to get through that is a relief. For some reason though, it still hit hard.

The last session I had with my counselor she mentioned that she had no issue letting me go. While I want to die, I likely won’t do it considering how long I’ve wanted to and the fact I haven’t. I agreed at first. Honestly, though, it hurts now. It downplays how much I’m hurting. I’m in excruciating emotional pain. It’s almost like a dare. Well if you haven’t done it so far, you likely won’t do it. Everyone reaches their limit. And my limit has been reached.

I wish there was a way to kill myself that I could just go to sleep and not wake up. Bonus points if I didn’t know what would be the last time that I wouldn’t wake up. Like a surprise to me too. I pray for cancer. For some disease doctors can’t fix so that I don’t have to do this at my hand. I know that sounds bad. It is hard for me to watch all these people full of life with cancer thinking they have so much left to give and I’m over here just taking up space.

I want this to end. I need this to end.

My birthday

I’ve made it through alive. I didn’t want to. And I feel like I’m spiraling downwards now that everything is quiet and I’m alone in my thoughts.

I keep remembering my husband telling me a couple of months ago that they were better off without me. That they didn’t need me. That he wanted me to leave.

That repeats over and over in my head. He nor the kids want me at home. No one wants me around. I can do this.

I wish I would have gone through with it that day. I had the knife in my hand. All I had to do was go through with it. All I had to do was press down. But I was a coward and couldn’t do it. Now I regret it. Now I have to live with what causes me pain.

I know I have plans to go through with it. But what happens if I don’t have the courage to do it? What happens if I chicken out again? I’m scared. I’m scared of living and of dying. And feel so alone. I can’t keep this up.


The last couple of days I’ve felt better, partly because I’ve made decisions of what comes next. While I’m sure folks won’t understand how a conclusion such as this can come with happiness, it does. I’ve made a decision; the turmoil is over. No more waffling, no more what should I do… I know what comes next. There’s a definite light at the end of the tunnel. Within a couple of months, the pain will be over.

I know people are going to ask why. And over the next couple of months, I’m going to go into as much detail as I can as to why. Some of them will be posted before I go through with it. Some of them will be posted at the end.

Big picture I know how and when. I just have to plan out the details, and then have the courage to go through this alone. That’s the one thing that I will miss with this. I have to die alone. I wish more than anything that someone could be there holding my hand as I pass, but I’ll die as I have lived… alone.

I won’t lie. I’m scared to go through this. I’m scared to live though too. The fear from dying is momentary, and finite. After I die, the fear is gone. The fear of living is every minute of every day, infinite. The only way to stop the fear of living, well, is to die.

I know most of you won’t understand. I know most of you won’t agree. But I promise you, this is for the best for me. I haven’t made this decision lightly. I’m not crazy. No, I don’t need a counselor to convince me differently. No, I don’t need to be hospitalized because my decision is different from what you think my decision should be. No one else has to live my life; no one else knows what pain I have to endure.

My plan has always been to kill myself on my birthday. This time is different, it will be E’s birthday present for me to kill myself. This allows everyone to enjoy holidays without having to do all the stuff that comes with someone dying, all the paperwork, etc. Plus it will be my gift to E to die. I remember asking him one time if he would be sad if I died. Nope, he wouldn’t. Life would go on fine without me. I’m going to test that. And give him the ultimate gift for his birthday.

I’m having a hard time fighting the urge to self injure. I want so badly to cut. No one understands that either. i deserve the pain. I deserve to die.

While I’m happy that I made the decision, that the turmoil inside over what to do is over… I’m hurting badly. I just want someone to hold me while I cry. But no one will. The pain of having to relive the past in enough detail for people to understand why I’m going through this will be agonizing. But it’s something that has to be done.

Even though next weekend won’t be the time that I will go through with it, it will still be hard. My birth has brought everyone pain. And I’m going to have to live through it … again.