I can’t count the ultimatums I’ve given. He’s cheated. He’s lied. He lied LAST NIGHT. He drinks. He lies about drinking. He cheats. He beats me. And of course he plays it all down like it’s nothing. Now he’s in therapy. Too little too late. I’m dead inside. I don’t want to go back to my suffocatingly conservative and all-around selfish and rude family. they’re 3,000 miles away anyway. I never let friends get too close to me because my friendships usually end up working out as poorly as my marriage did. I can’t remember the last time i was happy…Â I wanna say maybe age five through ten. When my little brother was still my little brother.
Suicide used to be a passing thought, it would fly in and out of my brain like a cute little bird. Oh how silly. Me, kill myself?? Oh dear, never. I’m not that selfish…. but really, I am. I’m selfish. I know it. I’m tired of pouring myself into relationships with people who don’t deserve it. I turned a leaf for the worse. I find joy in nothing now. I lost 20 pounds. Am I thin enough yet? No. Am I pretty enough yet? No. I have my mom and dad to remind me how blond and thin i need to be. I’m sick of this body. I’m sick of this makeup. And this furniture and the people with their coiffed hair and I’m sick of the obviously impending apocalypse.
I keep watching episodes of ‘I survived, Beyond and Back,’ it makes dying sound so wonderful. Sometimes I imagine the beauty of what it must be like and I just cry. I probably would have killed myself by now if I didn’t love my animals so much. But at this point I’m stuck. I have no family to talk to, I have very few friends. My closest friend is also going through a divorce. I don’t want to disappoint her either. I just want it all to be over. I don’t want to wait anymore.
The thought occurs to me at least everyday now. I have flashes of walking into the kitchen and just slitting my wrists longways. What a terrible mess to clean up, but I can’t imagine it would ever be something I’d plan out. It would be impulsive. And most likely mistake. But it’s on my mind more often than it should be. That’s for sure.
3 comments
I relate. Before I was 10 I was happy. At least, I cried. I cried all the time. Very emotional. Then something happened. Something awful. So my brain shut-off the world after that and I haven’t cried since. Be thankful you can cry. I am so isolated. From everyone and everything. Therapists don’t even want me in their office, that has been my history. And it’s not like I want them anymore. The therapy “worked”. I don’t trust therapy. I don’t trust anyone. I don’t want to live. I don’t want to participate anymore. But I have never had a history of violence. I don’t look like a weirdo. I am actually quite attractive. Therapists just hate me. And I must say, I think they are a worthless lot themselves. They made me more isolated than ever. F’ them.
yeah.. there’s a point where you just plug the flow of emotions and go dead, and then – why be alive? To go to work till you die? To watch your friends die? I’m there again and get here too often. After a great life affirming NYE it didn’t take much to remind me that I will never fit into this world and there is no escaping the fact that i am just making money to pay bills and nothing else. What a useless existence. Ants bring more value to the world than me.
art therapy helps a lot. i bet you’re creative. your aggression can be channeled into something productive..music helps too.