Honest

I want to be honest, because I’m not being really honest with anyone else. I am seriously thinking of killing myself. Its more than vague feelings. I can’t look in the mirror. I don’t hate myself but I just don’t feel I can recover from being hit, betrayed and raped. By two people. I trusted both. I have tried everything I honestly know. Praying, staying busy, intercepting thoughts, eating so incredibly healthy, don’t drink, smoke, or anything anymore, I call help lines, I have a counselor.

I can’t. Anymore. And I don’t want to be saying this. I want to feel stronger. I want to live. I want to feel a breeze, and look at stars and the sun and everything but I can’t. I wont take medication. I’ve tried it before. It doesn’t change anything. It is the things, that have happened and now every little thing feels overwhelming. If a family member sneers at me about something, I used to stick up for myself. and have some kind of defense, but it feels like i am on the ground.

Today I was actually ticking things off the list of how I can’t kill myself. I hate reading about these specifics, methods, it is so so so horrific to me. And here I am, thinking, no cant do this way, too risky, or that way, i  don’t have those things. I almost wish i’d done it a year ago when i still had feelings, if that makes any sense. ]

I feel cold even when it’s warm out. My brother, im staying with him, every time he takes the family stance  and acts like i’m strange or troublesome  he will never know how those little things compound everything else. Like another stone. And another person I talk to, when i mentioned feeling this way, just got very angry, but not in a helpful, i want to help you angry way. Just generally angry.

I did call this one “violence” hotline, a local one but was kind of told not to anymore. The suicide prevention people tell me Im not having a crisis.  I miss my cats. I think when my second cat died i was done really. She was the last thing really holding me here. The last thing I loved.  I love all of you now. I do. I pray for all of you, for whatever it is you need or want. You are all so very sweet. Really, the most honest people I’ve ever known. And I’ve never even seen you.

 I know I am sweet. I am. But I’m telling you, because I can’t tell anyone else, I want to die. Every time I make a little progress something else , someone else, knocks me down.  I know so many  have this or worse, but its the limit of what my heart can take. My heart should have been taken care of. Loved. Nurtured. I am a very gentle person. I love animals, butterflies, poetry, sweet little things I  notice about people,

It is all to brutal for me. Being raped was the final thing. I don’t feel my body anymore. It doesnt feel like mine anymore. That is something I think of why Im aftraid to look in the mirror. I don’t know who she is anymore. Not me. Nobody I know.  I don’t know how I will do it, or when, I’m doing it tho. I  think , unless a miracle happens.

And I’ll tell you something strange, one time, when my first cat died, I had this woman come sit down with me, where I was sitting on a bench, in an empty small town at nigth, and she, i swear to you, she knew all about me, that I liked to water color paint animals, that I thought my camera had broken that Id taken pictures of my cat with, and told me i would have the pictures (and i did, she was right) and she went to her van and had a whole portfolio of watercolor paintings of cats. I swear. And sometimes i thought she was 20 and sometimes older because she seemed so wise. and she said said, have you noticed the butterflies, and the next day a butterfly flew right up to my face and right near my cheek and then over my  head, around my other cat, and then to the spot Molly had died. (It had been outside, id had the vet come). So I believe she was there to comfort me and I was not into that at all- i mean believing in angels or an after life or anything.. It was all so strange. And I think she was telling me it was alright. That everything would be ok. And she said, “Maybe Molly will still be playing in the garden, and maybe she will draw others to her, and maybe this is a new beginning” I don’t know. You can make of it what you will. I believe she was an angel or some very special – i don’t know. She kept smiling  at me all the time. And she went to her van and played It Was a Beautiful Day.

I will still be here for awhile. I will still try . But my fight is going. I’m tired. I’m drained. I’m cold. But I’ll give it one more shot of whatever is left in me.