Suicide Sanctuary

I’ve been tired lately. Extremely tired. I read about the Parkland shooting survivors who completed suicide and it broke my heart. If I had the funds I would create a sanctuary for persons with suicidal ideation. Not for people like me who are almost always thinking about it, contemplating it, planning it. For people who are at the precipice. for people where it is imminent. A sanctuary where they can just come and sit, away from the world, with comfy beds and warm bubble baths. Where the thought is still there. The urge isn’t going away, but it is keeping someone on this earth one more day. I picture rocking chairs and warm blankets, window seats with overstuffed pillows you can sink into, and books about nothing significant. Books you can lose yourself in, if only for a moment. We would meditate and walk the grounds, nature trails for leisurely strolling. Peace for just a f*cking moment! Not making the thoughts go away, but accepting that they are there and holding on.

Oh how I wish we had this in our society. Not just for the wealthy!


Depression, Dating, Exercise, and Doing It All Wrong

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!

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.


Gambling Addicts

I have been on edge the last few days and I wasn’t quite sure why. The “glitches” I was having I couldn’t attribute to anything in particular and it has been continuing to bother me even though for the most part I have been doing so well. This morning I came home after dropping my son at school and I couldn’t bring myself to do anything at all. I was sitting like a lump. My  mind an empty void. Around 11:00 I decided to just go back to bed and I feel asleep until 12:30. I had some deep and intense dreams. In one of my dreams it was today around 5:30 PM today and I realized my ex had not shown up to pick up my son for an event he was scheduled to attend 2 hours away. An event we had been planning for 2 months. And I was racing around trying to figure out how to get my son to the event even though it had already begun. Then I woke up and I realized this was what I have been worrying about recently. I was so afraid his dad would not show up. His dad has barely had time for him recently and I was worried. His dad is always working, but he doesn’t pay child support. He is always working because he has a gambling addiction. It was the primary reason I could not be with him and we could not have a healthy relationship. If someone can’t pay the bills, but can sit in a casino and gamble away $2000 in one night there is a major problem. Not to mention all the times he “borrowed” money from my mother. He is not dependable. But thankfully he came through and picked up our son and they are on their way to the event! But it was good for me to react the way I did and have the dream. I began thinking of how difficult it was to be in a relationship with someone I couldn’t depend on and who, if I complained about it, would flip out. One year we planned a family trip to Washington DC. A few nights before the trip he went and gambled the $4000 we had saved to make sure the trip was great and not stressful. Then he wouldn’t answer the door at his mother’s house when it was time to go to the airport. The boys and I went on our own. He showed up in Washington DC the next day having borrowed money from my mother to purchase a new plane ticket. Then when I was stressed and couldn’t relax and enjoy the trip (he showed up with no money and no way to pay the balance on the hotel room) he treated me like I was crazy and a bitch and the kids saw me yelling and crying, while he was calm and collected. He even tried to borrow money from me (I had enough to cover food) so he could give some money to a friend’s daughter who lived in DC. He wanted to look like the good guy. I HATE HIM! DAMN IT! I HATE HIM!

THIS THIS THIS! This was a recurring theme in our entire relationship. The first year we were together he borrowed $2000 just before Christmas. He promised to pay me back. I didn’t know he was a gambling addict. But the longer it took for him to pay me back the more worried I became and began to wonder what kind of single man in his 30’s needs to borrow $2000 from a single mother of 3. He eventually paid me back and I told myself I was silly for worrying . I loaned him money many more times after that. Many of the times he paid me back and was mad at me for being upset and worried he wasn’t going to pay me back. He did do a lot for me, but living like that, with the stress of not knowing if bills were going to get paid, if we were going to have money for a trip, if he was even going to show up or come through for things. and knowing if I ever questioned him it would result in him blaming me for everything and anything and completely losing sight of what the issue was that began the argument in the first place. I never want to  live like that again. Never!

I’m so tired! I am so thankful I left that relationship and when I get to questioning myself I am going to come back and read this post. I am going to remind myself how stressful it was and how he blamed me for everything. How my overreactions were actually normal stress reactions to the situation. I feel sick to my stomach. I am so angry! So angry at myself for not trusting and believing in myself all of these years. BUT it is a good anger. An anger I need to work through to fully come out on the other side and to fully no longer hate myself. But right now I want to scream! I want to scream my head off! I am still having problems making decisions. Trusting myself. Loving myself. Knowing when to trust someone. I am afraid.

But my fear is reasonable, after all the years I went through. Now I am going to leave this coffee ship and go to the gym and get some of this anger out, then possibly go out tonight, be a normal human being, and have some fun.