I am still banking on July to end my life. It is making living just a tad bit easier. Most of my time is still spend sitting at home like a blob doing absolutely nothing aside from letting my mind wander and tell me what an idiot I am for having let my life get the way it has. I am going to the gym most days of the week (I should probably kill myself in a way that they will be able to donate my organs to someone else). I have been feeling pretty healthy physically, aside from being insanely tired most days. I’ve got my youngest son working out now so he should be in healthy shape by July so that will be good.
I started dating. To get my mind off my ex (which hasn’t helped because we’ve been hooking up on a regular basis now, but that’s another blog post entirely). I don’t know if it’s because I’m depressed or because dating in your forties just sucks, but so far I’ve experienced an unsolicited dick pic video from one guy, listened to another tell me his whole life story, his mother’s life story, his uncle’s and his grandmother’s, and another tell me how he’s a very nice guy, but he’s also a little bit kinky. Oh, and then the constant, “Do you have more pics of yourself? Can you send a sexy one?” Today I deleted all my dating app profiles and decided for the next 4 months I’m focusing on my kids and my health. A nice guy to hang out with would’ve been cool, but finding one in the online dating mess isn’t worth it.
I wish I had a career. I wish I would have found a way to use my constant suicidal ideation to propel myself forward. I wish it wasn’t too late. I wish I was brave enough to network and find that one person or company willing to take a chance on me. My oldest son is a freshman in college, full of hopes and dreams. He is already skilled at networking and I couldn’t be more proud of him. He ran for office for one of he clubs he belongs to and is now vice-president. He also makes motivational speaking videos. Sometimes I can hardly believe he is my child. He talks a or about how the world doesn’t owe you anything and nothing is going to be handed to you if you don’t strive and work and never give up. I get that and I believe it, but I still sit at my laptop like a giant blob doing nothing and going nowhere, wishing someone would come along and give me a hand up! Basically, I can motivate my son to motivate people, but can’t motivate myself to do shit! Life is a real mother f*cker!
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.
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.
*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???
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.
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.