We were talking about a house the real estate agent had sent. I mentioned I ran across a house I was interested in. One that is only 300k (compared to the ones E looks at, that’s cheap). It had enough square footage. Enough bedrooms. Enough acreage. All brick. It just wasn’t fancy inside.
I don’t care about a fancy house. What I do care about is that all the bedrooms and the laundry room are on one floor. That when I go to the kitchen to make the kid’s lunches and let the dog out that I’m not having to go back and forth to upstairs because I’ve been gone for two minutes and the kids need me again. I need you to put toothpaste on my toothbrush. Or W is stealing x from me. You guys do realize daddy is up here, right? That I don’t have to come all the way from upstairs just to solve a petty issue. But I take care of it anyway. Because, peace.
E was somehow confused. This isn’t the type of house you are looking for. Of course, I have no clue what he is talking about. Well, if you think we can go down to 300k houses, then we need to let the real estate agent know this. Well I wasn’t aware that there is a filter on houses that are cheap that meet the other criteria. I’m sorry it’s not fancy. I’m sorry it doesn’t cost as much.
As always with conversations with E, it blew up. I’m never good enough. I don’t care about moving. Basically, I am a mean incompetent lazy person.
I got W to sleep; and went out on the front porch. I cried. I cried deeply. I thought about getting up and walking. I knew the walking would take me along the creek. I knew that the intent was to not come back. I stayed outside for an hour, trying to decide what to do. I knew what I wanted to do. I pulled out a text from a friend who had basically told me not to go through with it. To live.
It was hard to read. Life is hard. I’m worn from the arguing. From never measuring up. From not being what is expected of me. Why would someone want me around? Maybe the person was just saying that to be nice? I mean, seriously, what are you going to tell someone who is wanting to die? Go jump off a cliff. Even if that is the way you felt, you likely wouldn’t.
In this case it helped. Did it make the ultimate difference? Likely not. Given the number of times I almost did it combined with the fact that I’m still here, I likely would not have gone through with it. However, that text made things easier. It gave me something to focus on. A reason to go on. Even if I couldn’t believe that someone would want me to be alive; there was something there in text form telling me to keep going, That someone cares.
I heard from the friend that night. He offered to take me to the hospital if I needed to. He stayed up with me until I could doze off. Things are much easier because of him. And I have no idea why he would want to be my friend.