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Month: September 2021

I remember growing up and holding my sister when she was scared of my dad yelling. Afraid of his temper. Now that time is over. No more do I have to listen to my dad yell at my mom. I have to listen to my husband yell at me. I have to listen to him yell at the kids. And I have to hold scared crying kids who are afraid of his outbursts. 

J kept hitting W this morning. E grabbed j and held him, with him crying hysterically. For much of the time he was crying for me to help him. And I couldn’t. I ended up leaving the room hoping that if I wasn’t in view he would forget about me. He didn’t. And I listened to him cry for me more.  More than ten minutes he had him there. And I abandoned him. I didn’t argue. I didn’t ask e to stop. I just was quiet, hoping that e would figure out he wasn’t helping. He kept asking him if he was going to stop hitting and J kept responding no. He didn’t know what he was answering I don’t believe because he was so upset. 

I am such a bad parent for not helping him. 

Here’s the thing. Everyone keeps telling me I should live to help the kids. But I’m not helping. I’m just watching, too scared to help. If I died, I wouldn’t have to watch anymore. I wouldn’t have to see their pain. 

Afraid and alone

Afraid and alone

The last counseling appointment I was supposed to have got cancelled. She was sick. I was supposed to call the front desk to reschedule. I didn’t. 
I wanted so much for them to drop me. I wanted so much for them to terminate me. For me to be counselor-less. I took too long In between sessions. Now I’m no longer a client. If that happened, I would have permission to go through with killing myself. I can’t go through with it while I’m seeing a counselor. And well, if they told me I didn’t have a counselor, then I would be free. 
But they didn’t drop me. I called today. I have an appointment in a couple of weeks. I’ve already asked to talk about suicide. I’ve let her know that I’m safe, but significantly struggling.  
She will make sure I talk about suicide, but I don’t know how brave I can be. I don’t know how much I will be able to tell her. I don’t know if I will be able to look at her and tell her how afraid I am. I am considering writing the Samaritan’s again. To tell them everything. All I know is I’m extremely down. I’m afraid. Alone. And honestly, I don’t feel like fighting anymore. 
That person who I lived for that day at the creek is no longer in my life. That person who told me that they would be very sad if I killed myself. That person is no longer in my life. And I regret not going through with it then. I regret making the decision to come back. 
I feel trapped. I can’t kill myself. Yet I don’t want to live. I don’t know what I should do next. I don’t know how to fight this. I don’t know if I want to fight this.