365 Days to live or die

What would you do if you gave yourself 365 days to live? Would you do nothing and just wait for the day? Would you try to change your own mind and find a “cure” for your mental health? I am about to find out! I have given myself until August of 2018. At first I was determined to just enjoy the next 365 days and committed to ending my life. Now I go back and forth over giving up or fighting to find my way. Over this next year I will try every alternative treatment I can find. I will live my life fully and with wild abandon and at the end if I still decide to complete suicide I will know I gave it my all for one entire year.


Helping Others

It is a new day. A gorgeous day. A year I am finally happy for spring as I am physically healthy and have energy to enjoy it when I can. The kids are home and the house is full of happiness, but it hasn’t changed my mind for July 31st. Perhaps it will help someone. Perhaps my family will be able to help someone else’s family see the depression in one of their family members and be more equipped to help them. With my time left I have decided I want to help everyone that I can. I am going to be supportive and positive and just be there for others. It is a wonderful feeling.

Just Let Me Die

Why do these feelings always come back? Why??? I am leaving for my silent meditation retreat the day after tomorrow, but I have lost hope again. I hate myself. Aside from my kids, I hate my existence. I am 44 years old. I can’t do these ups and downs much longer. I gave it over a year since my suicide attempt. I’m doing better, but I’m still on the road of “when I’m up, I’m up, and when I’m down, I’m down” I tried. I fucking tried! Tried to be fucking normal. Applied for jobs. Went on interviews. I just want to go to sleep and never wake up and I hate that I feel this way again. Because I don’t want to die. I don’t want to feel sorry for myself. I want to appreciate my life and all that I do have. I try. I try every single day. I hate my brain.

Depressions Downhill Slope

*Trigger warning* suicidal ideation

I have not made it to the gym today. I am not doing well at all. My brain is fighting me. My brain wants to give up. I want to grab the sharpest knife imaginable and slide it across my throat. I want to drown in my own blood. Let me brain shut down and these thoughts blow away in the wind as I cease to exist. I am a waste. A worthless waste who can’t do a damn thing right. I am nothing. People do not like you. You are awkward. You don’t fit in. You don’t fit in anywhere, anywhere at all. Stupid. Selfish. Ugly. Lazy. Worthless piece of shit.

This is what my brain tells me. What my brain screams at me over and over. I need to cry. I can’t fucking do this again. I can’t. I can’t handle another episode. I have no one. Damn! Life is a mother fucker. My brain can handle a month in the amazon jungle working with all kinds of plant medicines, but it can’t survive in this stupid western society. I push myself everyday. Why can’t I be fucking normal? Why??? And now I’m crying… Of course I am. My hope, the hope that I was leaning on to get through lately, has faded. My brain is laughing at me. Saying to me, “See where hope gets you? You always end up here. Always! You aren’t that strong to fight me. You will never be anything. You will always be alone. You will always be worthless. Just fucking give up.”

But fuck my brain! Yes brain, you, fuck you! You may have won for today and you might win again tomorrow, but you are only winning battles and I still have an ounce of hope that someday I will win the war. I am still going on my retreat in 2 1/2 weeks, and tomorrow I will go to the gym again, and tonight I still might take the dog on a jog. I’m not giving up this time. You hear that brain???

Almost giving up

Last night I began feeling low. This morning I woke up wanting to die and hating myself. Absolutely hating myself and too tired to fight the voice inside my head once again telling me all the reasons I am worthless and undeserving. So today I am sitting and doing nothing again, wishing I could do it. Wishing I could cease to exist.

But I made it to the gym. It took my until 1:30 in the afternoon to leave the house and I want to run out of here screaming, but I’m here. I’m not still lying in bed and in 2 1/2 weeks I will be leaving for my first 10 day Vipassana silent retreat.

And that is what I need to keep reminding myself of when that voice is overbearing and attempting to lead me back down that path of despair. I still want to end it all, but I also still hold onto that little sliver of hope that I can still make something of this life here. So I will tuck away the thoughts of suicide until after my retreat. Then, after my retreat I will hold on for the next thing, and I will continue doing just that as long as I am able.

At The Gym

I am here and I am functioning. Not sure if this is week 2 or week 3. My anxiety is through the roof. BUT I am here! I want to cry my eyes out. I want to scream. I want the old me back! The one who could think, who could write, who could hold a normal conversation.

I went to my interview yesterday. I sat in my car up until the last minute debating to myself whether or not I should go in. I asked myself, “What would Rose Madder do?” And got my ass or of the car and marched into the interview with my head up and my abs tight! Then I absolutely bombed the interview! But ITS OKAY. I was not concise, nor was I articulate. I spoke like I write, a jumbled mess of ideas spouting out randomly like a broken shower head spurting water randomly into your eye when you are expecting it to hit your chest. But I got through it and I was ME. I was myself. At least to more of an extent than I have ever been at an interview. And I left not critiquing every answer I gave or the questions I forgot to ask. I left knowing this was just another practice interview and not a job I was dying to have.

All of the previous was written yesterday morning. I got through my morning gym routine. I pushed myself and felt great after. I then had coffee with a friend, which is always some of the best therapy. I left there feeling even better. And the rest of the day went just as well.

Today I had a difficult time getting started, but I’m still not giving up on myself and still noticing this is a such a change for me and such a step forward.

My Broken Brain

I want to go back to bed. I want to go to sleep and never wake up. I don’t want to die. Suicide is not in my thoughts, but I surely do wish I would cease to exist. I am trying, but it’s not working. My brain will not cooperate with me. Just be fucking normal for an extended amount of time! Just be fucking normal! At least normal enough to get by. At least normal enough to not have these intrusive thoughts of not wanting to exist invade my mind.

I’m sitting here in tears and I fucking hate it. I have an interview this afternoon for a job I thought I would like, but now I’m questioning if I can do it. My brain is so very broken and so very angry. I keep trying. I know I was doing so well. I know there is still hope, I just have to tap back into it. Maybe be a little kinder to myself again. That voice has gotten loud again. The voice of my exes, and my family. I now realize. I am so angry and right now I’m not able to let go of that anger and all of the hurt from life in general.