I’m not suicidal. I don’t want to die. Not yet. Not until I’ve done something good in this world and made my own mark. Not until I’ve had children and raised them to be far happier than I am. Only when I’m old do I want to die.
But I want to disappear. I want to cease to exist. Vanish. Or rather, I want for all my problems to vanish. I want to hide away in this room the rest of the day and forever onwards, shirking responsibility. I don’t want to help with my sister-in-law’s wedding today. I don’t want to see all the wedding preparations and just how happy she is and how much this family loves eachother. Because as I watch it all, the reality of my selfish state consumes me.
My husband is a good guy. He cares about me. He loves me. He’s sacrificed a lot for both me and… what he believes is for us. Whenever I bring up what I want though… it’s not as important as what’s right for “us”. He means well. But I’m not happy with it. I’m not happy with anything. I think it’s mostly my depression talking. Pushing all my negative feelings onto him. Looking for someone to blame. But the few friends I’ve confided all of this in say that I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. That not everything must be my fault. But so much of it is. That’s the reality of the situation. I’m selfish. And in the end, I don’t want to change. I want to want to change. But I can’t go beyond that. I can’t. It’s blocked off. I don’t know why.
So I want to vanish. I want to run away to my parent’s house on the other side of the country where I want to live. I want to escape Rapunzel’s tower and do something spontaneous. I don’t want to have to worry about other people’s feelings. About hurting them. I want to live for myself and live in the moment. I have never done this. But I’m married. I can’t. It’s supposed to be a partnership. I committed myself… for the good times and the bad. So what if I’ve been depressed for at least six and a half years… and only met my husband during that time. And he only knows the depressed me. Though it’s worse now, by far. Never before have I felt anywhere near suicidal. Maybe it’s my medication… time to try another one… again, huh?
I know my thoughts are disjointed but I figure that’s allowed here. I just wanted to say something to someone. To you people who actually get it.
3 comments
Well, my dear, the beauty of this breakdown is that you know your problem. You have a self worth problem (it’s seen in the way you constantly repeat “I am the problem” and “I’m selfish”). You can see that it’s not fair to your husband, family, or friends, but now comes the hard part – the change. You need to grow up, shrugging off responsibility and hiding in a room to avoid your problems is not going to help, it means you’re running. And the wonderful thing about this is that everything you’re running from WILL follow you until you handle it. So, six and a half years ago it began? Try dealing with whatever you went through. Provide closure. As much as people like to think depression just comes out of nowhere, it doesn’t. There’s an underlying reason/problem that you haven’t confronted and it’s pulling you down. So, selfish girl, I suggest trying to do something productive with your selfishness, and that, my dear, is fixing yourself. Your husband can tell you that you’re beautiful, loved, amazing or whatever, and so can your family/friends, but until you can look in the mirror and see it yourself, you’ll never believe it. So, OP, keep fighting, pushing, and struggling, but do it for the better and not the blame or the moment that you can find to escape it all.
Your voice was heard. It’s okay to let out all the “bad” thoughts/feelings here. We’re all here to listen and try to help. And hello Vanish, nice to meet you.
Thank you. I wrote out a letter tonight to leave for him to find tomorrow after work. I can’t bring myself to confront him on all my hurts in person. I’ve talked to him about them before, just usually one at a time. Usually without the tears and “overreacting”. I’m strangely calm. Just going to leave it, along with a letter he sent me in college when I broke up with him for about a month. A letter full of promises to treat me better.
It probably won’t change anything in the long run, but they have to be said. It’s either this or vanish without confronting him. This is quite a bit healthier, I figure. If he doesn’t like it, then away I’ll go.
Don’t think my depression is all about my marriage, though. Plenty of other issues with general self esteem and past events in my life. But I can’t control those nearly as well. I can do something about him. And that something is this letter.