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Month: November 2018

Hidden Demons

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

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.

Struggling Considerably

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

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.