I hate my life. I cannot explain it any further than those 4 little words. I. Hate. My. Life. There was a time when I was happy. But that seems ages ago. Maybe years.
How did it come to this? I’m not sure. I think it snuck up on me slowly, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day, week by week, month by month, year by year. A compilation of ugly time weaving ever so slowly into my body. Taking root like a cancer.
Sometimes, like now, I wish I were dead. It would be so much easier. For all. This is a thought so alien to me a few years ago. I mean come on… I’ve always been strong. Happy. And I never could understand how anyone could ever feel this bad. How could anyone reach that point? To contemplate death? The hopelessness. I tried to justify people like that. They most be broken inside. Bad synapses. Bad genes. Like my brother. But I get it now.Totally.
It does not matter that I have a 6 year old son. There I said it. It. Doesnt. Matter. He has more family than me. A father that could give him a good life. He deserves better from me. Someone who sees life worth living. His undeveloped brain deserves better than what I am showing him now. I’m failing him. And I fear for his psyche.
People get over a death. He would. He’s only six. It takes time but they do. I did. So I know it is possible. Some will say that’s selfish, but anyone who has experienced death knows it to be true. Time heals all wounds. Even suicide. Some guilt may not go away. There is regret. What ifs. But life goes on with or without.
My husband. I am ambivalent. I would be lying if I didn’t want him to feel the pain of loss. But I’d also be lying to put the blame squarely on him. My regret? He is catholic so I imagine his guilt would be tremendous. But then when does he not feel guilt? Remorse? What ifs? Unfulfilled desires? Dreams? Needs? He needs to move away from me. It is his catholic upbringing that wont allow it. So I am ambivalent.
My sisters. Here I feel regret. In my passing they would suffer. Suffer without the guilt of religion but the loss of a sister. The pain of not really knowing why. The guilt of not seeing.
My parents. Here the emotion is stronger. Anger that maybe all those years ago, when we were little, that maybe those baby synapses were rewired so wrong that the battle raged and failed with my brother, still rages in my younger sister to this day and planted the cancer that eats away at my core of strongness.
2 comments
your kid would miss you more then anything in the world. you have never lost your parents so you don’t know how it feels yet. I can promise you your kid will grow up wondering “why wasn’t I enough to keep her alive? didn’t she love me?” Whatevers bothering you so badly, you need to talk to someone. I am suicidal and im also a Christian, I know its against religion but it doesn’t mean we don’t understand. find something you love to do and lose yourself in it. I know you must love you kid more then anyone so try going out and doing abnormal fun things with your child. Im struggling with being alive right now but dying is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.
At 6, your son would be old enough to ask ‘why?’ and I doubt that anyone could give him an answer that would satisfy that question. Do you really want to leave him wondering what he did wrong that meant you didn’t love him?