What would you do?

What would you do?

What would you do if a friend told you she wanted to die?

What would you say? What would you do?

Would you tell her how much you would miss her? Would you tell her how much others would miss her? Would you check on her? Would you sit in her office, and push her to call for help and make sure she did? Would you send that one text that she holds at night, while she is agonizing over the decision, the one text that keeps her alive to the next morning?

Would you give her a suicide helpline and send her on her way, never to mention it again? Would you tell her how she just needed to make a decision, no matter what that decision is? Would you encourage her to go through with it because of the pain she is going through? Would you brush her off because she hasn’t done it so far and you doubt she will in the future? Would you send that one text that pushes her closer and closer to a decision to go through with it?

I promise… telling someone that you want to die isn’t easy. It’s not just saying random words out loud. Admitting that to someone else takes a lot of courage. Don’t brush that courage off.

A while ago, the mental health folks at work sent out an email. They said if someone is feeling suicidal not to share your own pain with them. You know what?! Share your pain. Don’t let me feel like an outsider in this too. Tell me about your worse day. If you’ve struggled with depression, tell me. Depression is feeling ostracized. Depression is feeling alone. Depression is feeling like there will never be a light at the end of the tunnel. If you have seen the light at the end of a never ending tunnel, share it.



We are on vacation. I started this journey off happy, thinking maybe I could continue to stay alive, maybe there is a purpose. 
I’ve done a lot of soul searching the last week. A lot. I’m in the peace of the mountains. I love it here. I can think; everything is clear. 
I know my husband no longer loves me. He is currently sleeping on the sofa. Plenty of room in the bed but he is choosing to sleep on the sofa. Anything I want he argues with.
The tears are rolling. They make me feel even more alone. No one is here to care. I so just want someone to hold me while I cry. I want someone to tell me that I am loved. I’m supposed to be strong but I’m not. I’m weak. 
They say that the worst pain is for a parent to bury a kid. That is why I stay alive.  I wonder if their life wouldn’t be better if I just went through with it. They wouldn’t have to worry about me. They wouldn’t have to care for me. I would be gone. The kids would be a lot better off without me.  Everyone would be a lot happier without me. 
Even if I had someone here to talk to, what would I say?  That life isn’t worth living anymore?  How do I make someone understand the intensity of the hopelessness?  How do I put what I’m feeling into words?  

Where to go from here

Where to go from here

My husband got into an argument last week. He wanted to know if there was anything he could do to the house to make me happier in it, and want to stay. I said no, which apparently wasn’t the answer he was looking for. I want a bigger lot. Can’t do that. I want bedrooms and full baths on the main floor. He could turn the safe room into a bedroom. No, not nearly big enough. I want a rec room. We could turn the dining room into a rec room. Really?! I’m trying to make it so that people can work on projects and walk away from it. I also don’t want the first thing people see when they come through the door to be his or the kids’ projects. I want a room to go that is safe for tornadoes, etc. A small half bath doesn’t fit us now. Wait until the kids get bigger; we really won’t be able to fit then. He doesn’t care. I told him I was miserable in this house. He told me fine that he would pack up and get an apartment and I can stay here. Why the fuck is he moving out? I DON’T WANT TO BE IN THIS HOUSE. He’s just going to live separately, we don’t make it official. No, if you’re going to move out and abandon me, it’s gonna be official. I want closure; I want to be able to move on. No, it’s not about money. The world isn’t just about money. It’s about being able to meet someone who might want to be with me.

He doesn’t get the fact that he argues with EVERYTHING. He blames me for arguing. I forget that if he asks me something, the correct answer is yes sir. Always. No matter what. It’s not how high you can jump, but just jump and hope for the best. I can’t even take something he said and expound on it in agreement. He doesn’t understand why I’m talking and ”arguing” with him if I’m in agreement. It’s called a conversation. If I just say yes to everything he says, then he will want me to say more. if I say more, he will accuse me of arguing. I have no clue what I’m supposed to say most of the time with him.

We’ve moved on past this again. Everything is ok. No one is moving out. At least not for now. Not until the next argument. It’s hard. This past time, I started going through the pros/cons of leaving him. Honestly, as bad as this sounds, the pros are sounding pretty nice. We could have a cat. A new dog once Karma dies. A house that works for us. A storm shelter. We could go to church. More money (it won’t go to spending on fun stuff for him). Most of all, stability. I won’t always be wondering if today will be the day he walks out. I won’t wonder if today I will be in tears because of another argument. I’m tired of feeling this way. It’s not just if I mess up, but one of the kids too. I pray that they do everything perfectly and that E has patience. Both are hard requests; both at the same time is nearly impossible. I won’t be worried about a potential car wreck because he has gotten pissed at some because they haven’t done something perfect (again).

I haven’t been to counseling in months. It will be teletherapy because of the virus when I do go. I need someone to talk to. I’m falling so hard, but have to be strong. I can do this. Or at least I’m told. But I don’t feel like it. I want this to be done. Not just the marriage. Life. I saw a show yesterday. One of the characters said that even when there is no light, you have to keep moving ahead and eventually you will find light at the end of the tunnel. I’ve been going on for years. There’s no light at all.

I’m scared.

The New Norm

The New Norm

I’m tired. I’m alone. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this up.

A virus started spreading several months ago in the US. It’s now everywhere. The government has shut businesses down. Schools are out until the end of April, likely the rest of the year. We are working from home for work, have been for two weeks and will continue to do so for at least another three weeks. Everyone is concerned. But honestly, I like this new norm. We didn’t do much outside of work and hang out at home anyway. We didn’t go out with friends. We don’t do extra curricular activities. We just work and stay home. Now my husband has had to get used to not going anywhere. He’s a lot more extroverted. He keeps asking me if he can go to the store to get something. I tell him to put it in the amazon cart. Nope you can’t go. He can go to a small grocery store for essentials. “Can I go to the store to get some spray paint?” No!! He’s more at risk than the rest of the family. We are doing this for people like him. And we have to keep reminding him that he can’t go out.

The kids are enjoying S having no school. I haven’t seen her this happy in so long. It’s also a little sad. She doesn’t want to go back to school. She doesn’t have any friends she wants to see. She doesn’t want to see the teacher.

So we get to work from home now. This is great. It saves time and patience and money. I don’t want to go into work anyways. I don’t want to see the people I work with. Just seeing them makes my anxiety go up. Out of sight. Out of mind. At least I think that’s what is going on.

I interviewed for two jobs. The first job the person told me that they have put all hiring on hold while they figure out this coronavirus thing. The second one told me that they gave the job to someone who had been in the section for years. She called and turned me down over the phone and told me she wanted me to work over there and that they would just need to find a spot for me. I give up. There’s no spot for me. No one wants me. Who am I fooling? I don’t want to try anymore. I don’t think anyone will notice if I’m not here.

Counseling sessions are now on Zoom. I cancelled my appointments until I could meet in person again. I need the in person session. Even if I had it I wouldn’t be able to open up. I’m horrible. I need to open up. I need to tell someone how much I’m struggling. I don’t want to be alone anymore. I know there isn’t hope though. I know no one will care. I need someone to hold me. I need someone to tell me that this will get better. I need someone to tell me that I am loved.

I’m scared. I have no way forward. At least no way forward that I want to be a part of. I want to cut again. I want to feel the pain. To see the blood. To suffer.

This new norm allows me to isolate. This isn’t good for me but I don’t know where to turn. I don’t know who I can trust. Everyone would be better off without me.

I’m not strong enough…

I’m not strong enough…

“How are you doing?”

“I’m not strong enough.”

“Strong enough for what? For a particular thing?”

“For everything. For life”

I’m not strong enough to keep going with the kids. I have three kids plus a husband who might as well be a kid. I’m tired of the yelling. I’m tired of trying to bring everyone together. I’m tired of being the cheerleader. I’m tired from keeping everyone together. I can’t do it all. I can’t fix everyone’s tears. I can’t protect everyone. If I stopped, no one would care. If I wasn’t here, no one would care. If I wasn’t here, no one would notice.

I’m not strong enough for work. I’m not strong enough to keep things going there. I’m not strong enough to keep putting on a smiling face when I’m miserable. I’m not strong enough to have a voice. I’m not strong enough to get people to listen to me. I’m not strong enough to be a good worker. No one would miss me. No one wants me there anyways. Right now suicide is covered in life insurance policy. If I go through with it, Erik and the kids will be set. I’m worth more dead
I’m not strong enough to be a good friend. I have text messages and Facebook messages to answer and all I want to do is sit on the bed and cry.

I’m not strong enough to be strong. I’m not strong enough to stop the tears. I’m not strong enough to be alone. I’m not strong enough to feel.

I want to tell my counselor. But what do I tell her? How do I even fucking talk? Maybe I’m just making this all up for attention. Maybe I don’t have a problem really. Because if I really was suicidal I would have already killed myself right?

I’m scared. I don’t see anyway forward other than this. I don’t have anyone I can talk to. At the end of the day, I don’t want to talk about it. I just want someone to accept me and not judge me even if I go through with it.

I don’t want to be alone but I’m afraid not to be.

I don’t want people to see me like this.

I’m afraid people will see I’m not strong enough…

No more tears

No more tears

My counselor asked me how my mood was at my last appointment. I don’t know how I feel. I don’t where to start. I’m exhausted. I’m deeply depressed but I don’t have the energy to figure out how I feel, much less actually write it down for her. I told her crappy but I wanted to tell her more. No mo
My counselor thinks that since I’m around negative people at work and home all the time that I should take time for me and hang out with friends that build me up. Even if I did, my brain is wired to not remember anything positive.
I need the release that tears would bring. I need to cry. I’m too numb and tired for the tears. No one wants to hear me cry anyway.

Next Steps

Next Steps

I’ve cleaned out most of my office. I’ve decided I’m not coming back. During maternity leave, I’ll look for a new job. If I can’t find another job, then I’ll go through with it. I know people won’t miss me. I’m at peace with the decision. More at peace than I have ever been with it. Everyone will be used to me being MIA from being out on maternity leave. I’ll just become a postpartum statistic. Everyone will think it is postpartum depression. Not many will realize I’ve been dealing with this for decades. That I’ve just given up. That life won’t get better. That one of the things that brought me joy, no longer does. That I feel that I have no purpose in life. That the few things that brought me joy at work have been taken away. I’m ready to be done. I’m tired of being yelled at at home. I’m tired of putting on a happy face for everyone when I really feel like crying. The kids will be better off without me. Erik will be better off without me. Everyone will be better off without me. Erik can move wherever he wants and use my insurance money to pay off the van and house. Everyone would be better off without me.
I’m worn and tired and can’t hang on any longer. I’ve got to think of others. How better off they would be without me.
I’ve paused counseling. I might just not go back. That way the counselor won’t be in any trouble. And honestly I don’t want to hurt her. Sometimes I wonder if she cares about me more than a lot of friends and family do. I’m not sure why anyone would care about me. Seems like a waste to me.
I’m supposed to be happy. I’m having a baby. Everyone says I look so good. I just want to die.

I love you…

I love you…

I told him that I loved him. He just looked at me and said “oh”. Nothing else, then walked off. It’s been before W was born since he said it to me. The rejection makes me feel alone and isolated. There wasn’t a good explanation as to why he won’t. I used to say it to him all the time, but I stopped. The fact he doesn’t say it back to me hurts. A lot. It reminds me what I already know. He doesn’t love me. I take care of a lot for him. I feel alone in this relationship. I feel like if I disappeared no one would care. He won’t say he loves me. He won’t say he likes me. He locked up my engagement ring. What more evidence do I need?

I have a counseling appointment coming up. I want to tell her how I feel. I want to tell her how scared and at peace I am with the future. Two conflicting feelings rolled into one. Because, apparently, I’m weird. I am scared to tell her my feelings. I’m afraid she will stop me. At the same time, I’m afraid she will be dismissive. And there’s a part of me that thinks she already knows. She just wants me to open up. I want to tell her I plan on going through with it. I want to tell her I’m sorry for any pain that will cause her. I don’t want to be alone in this.

My birthday is coming up. 40th. After the baby is born. I honestly at this point don’t know why I go on. I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of putting on a happy face for everyone and pretending that I’m ok. I’m tired of the pain. This won’t get better. I just want this to end. I want the fight to end. I won’t win. I haven’t so far, so why should I believe things will get better? I’ve stayed alive these last months because killing myself would result in my killing an unborn baby. But soon, the baby will be born. What will keep me alive then? Why will I continue on? I honestly don’t want to go on. I want this to be the end. I’ve struggled immensely this whole pregnancy. I was struggling before. I want to die. I want to self harm. I want to die a slow painful death. I figure I deserve it. If I were a better person, I’d be happier. But I’m not. I’m a horrible person. Even my own husband doesn’t love me. I don’t want to be a burden to anyone anymore. I can kill myself. They will be able to pay off the car and the house. They will be better off without me.

I honestly just want someone to hold me. Someone who will tell me that they will be here for me. Someone who isn’t going to lie and tell me things will get better. It’s been nearly three decades. Things won’t get better. I just need to learn how to survive and not focus on happiness. Happiness is unobtainable. Hell, at this point, life seems unobtainable.



I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how I feel. I know that I’m struggling. I know that I still want to die. I know that I can’t go through with it yet. I care too much for the unborn baby.  So I have to go on. 

I’m scared to be alone during maternity leave. I’m scared that I’ll go through with it. But I also don’t want to be suffocated by having people around. 

I was driving back from Colorado yesterday. W was in the backseat while I was driving in the front. He wanted me in the backseat. He kept telling me that he needed me. No one seems to need me. So I nearly cried when I heard him. E gets mad at how attached he is to me. 

It’s hard. Does W know why he “needs” me. If I die, will he miss me?  Will I really hurt him?  Won’t he be better off without me? Won’t everyone be better off without me?

Erik wants me to quit counseling to “save money”. Maybe I should. There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to be held accountable for the feelings or what I’ll do. There’s a part of me that wants to walk the rest of this path on my own and not tell anyone. 

There’s also a part of me that wants to tell my counselor how bad I’m doing and hope she has something that will change my mind. I want to talk through the feelings with someone, but honestly, I don’t know what the feelings are. I don’t know how to vocalize the feelings. This counselor understands me fairly well. I know if I bring up the subject she will realize how much pain I’m in. In a way, that makes it harder. Knowing that she knows without me having to say it, makes me scared to talk about it. 

I honestly just want to be held by someone. To be told that I’m loved. To be told that I matter. To be allowed to cry with no questions asked. 

Crying … again!

Crying … again!

I’ve spent the majority of the night crying. I want to die right now, but I have a life inside me. As soon as that life is out, I can go through with it. For now, I would be committing an abortion and suicide. I can’t live with taking an innocent life with my own. So I have to wait. I’ve been fighting this for 28 years. I’m tired. I’m done. I’m ready. I have nothing to live for. People would be better off without me.

They could take my life insurance money and pay off the house and buy a new car. They could have so much without me. I owe it to the kids to go through with this. Their life would be so much better without me. People disagree but they don’t see the real me. They don’t know how much of a monster I am. How horrible of a person I am inside.

The world would be better off without me. That was evident today.

I won’t forget how alone and how horrible I feel right now. I won’t forget how much I want to die. I won’t forget. This time I’ll have courage. I hurt too much not to.

I wish someone could hold me right now while I cry. I wish someone would love me. I wish I wasn’t alone. Maybe any one of those would make a difference. But they haven’t and won’t.

This feeling won’t go away. And explaining this to someone else would make no sense to them.

I’m scared. I’m alone.