362 Days Until I Die

Yesterday could not have been a more perfect day. We went to our first monthly chapter meeting for stuttering. It went perfectly. We got home and I spent two hours talking with my teenager about the meaning of life/life’s purpose, his growing confidence, and with that he feels he has the ability to live a life true to himself without worrying about others opinions. I wish I had had the insight and self awareness that he has at that age. After we talked I made dinner and he found a site live streaming the Mayweather Macgregor fight for free. The fact that these men make millions off of society’s lust for competition(violence) makes me ill and yet I watch and hope the woman beater gets knocked down. Then I realize I know nothing of the other fighter, he could be a person of questionable character as well, and so I cease to care and focus on my boys and our time together. I love them so very much! Soon after the significant other arrived home from work with cookies for the kids and a bottle of wine for me (couldn’t ask for much more than that). The kids retired to their rooms downstairs and we stayed up until 5:00 am talking and enjoying each other. On nights like that I don’t believe I could ever love someone as much as I love that man. 

Then the morning comes. We lay in bed and it is beautiful, but then it comes. Like a misty blanket only I can feel. It settles on me and as he smiles and jokes with me I think, “I need to die”. It begins in my stomach and spreads throughout my body until it reaches me fingers and toes. It says Kill yourself, get it over with, so he can be with someone who loves life, who isn’t sad all the time, unmotivated, and worthless. Kill yourself because you will never get it right. You will always be less than. Don’t try to be happy. It isn’t for you.” 

And then I am honest with myself and the perfect day yesterday didn’t belong to me. Through the perfect chapter meeting my anxiety was so high I wanted to run out of the room screaming. On the drive home we were almost sideswiped on the freeway, but I swerved and I thought how I wish I were alone in the car and they would have hit me. While my son talked about the purpose of life I wanted to cry and tell him I’m sorry I can’t be here for you in the future, but I know you are going to live a life I wish I had. And only with a bottle of wine was I relaxed enough to have a perfect evening. 

God! That sounds pathetic! Whiny, insipid, feeling sorry for myself. Perhaps the point is to see the memory as perfect. To find the joy in the moments, find the sunshine in the rain(which I always tell my kids) practice what you preach, right? 

In the end, it was a beautiful day and I can smile when I think about it. And perhaps my suicide isn’t me. Perhaps we are separate and it has just been a long time visitor in my mind. A parasite who has no intention of leaving. Who gives me these urges I can’t explain. Perhaps that is a thought I will pursue in a later post. My mind overwhelms me at times. 

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