I don’t want to die…

I don’t want to die, but…

There are times, last night for example, when it’s all I can do to hang on to whatever I can to keep from doing something I can never take back. Those nights where the blackness has swirled up around me to grasp at my throat and just choke the life out of me.

It’s a difficult thing to explain, but I’ll do my best. Here’s how I’ve described it to my therapists.

It’s like there are two people inside of me. There’s me, and then there’s the dark me. We’ll call the ‘me’ that’s okay #1 and the dark me #2. #1 is easy to get along with, loves to be there for people, give advice and listen. She loves being with her friends (when she has them), watching television or movies or series found on YouTube or reading a good book. She loves to laugh and make people laugh. But always, always #2 is lurking inside of #1’s brain, whispering things to her like “They’re watching you. They think you’re so fat, so ugly. Your hair looks so stupid. What do you think they are really thinking about you? The world would be better off without you. They don’t really need you here, they’re just patronizing you. They’ll be fine, possibly even relieved, once you’re gone.” And so many other thoughts like that. It’s like having a devil on your shoulder all the time.

Sometimes #2 is quiet, and those times are bliss. Sometimes she just whispers. And sometimes, like last night, she pushes #1 completely out of the way and takes over. Those are the nights when I would give anything for it to just stop. For everything to stop and just give me peace.

My therapists don’t seem to concerned about this so.. I’m still dealing with #2 the best I can. Thinking on the days after a night that she took over, that it’s a miracle that I’m still here after all these years of dealing with her.

I am afraid, though. I am afraid that one night she’s going to be too much to handle, too much to control, that there’s going to be so much hurt inside me and so much pain, that I’ll do it. I really don’t want to, and it scares me.

I like to think that I’m strong. I may not have a job, and a I may not have a lot of friends, but I’m still here. People that are not like us, they don’t understand the strength it takes to fight this every day. We are not weak. We are not completely broken. We are damaged, we have repairs to make and patches to sew on, but we are still here.