Once upon a time, two emotionally dysfunctional people brought an Imp into this world. Kids weren’t really dad’s thing, and mom wasn’t at all certain about the care and feeding of an impossible girl. Maybe Imp was destined to crash from the start. She learned how to talk, and then she stopped. Just stopped. Wouldn’t even talk to her mother, and she was a total mama’s girl. When she got to preschool, she was behind other kids because of the whole not speaking thing. But she also just didn’t really fit in. Playing house seemed pointless. And it did not take very long to learn that girls are mean.
And then hell began. Imp was sent to the local Catholic school from kindergarten until seventh grade. She was a blank slate going in, a child ready to be shaped into something precious. She came out a self-loathing, self-harming, mistrustful, and bitter young woman whose faith in God was gone. Through high school, she learned that money and politics mattered, not talent or brains. She learned in college that friends were people she kept around by doing favor after favor after favor for them, usually involving money she couldn’t afford to actually spend.
As I sit here, I find myself looking at my life and seeing nothing changing. I am alone. I am never good enough. I am a constant disappointment, both to myself and to everyone around me.
A six-pack of Mike’s Hard Lemonade and as many of my pills as I can manage says I can do something about that. Impossible girls should never be. Maybe I’ll see you all again. Maybe I won’t. Do better than me. Not sure you can do worse.
8 comments
like your post, I’m drinking vodka myself 🙂 life is hard as we make it on ourselves , remember living isn’t suppose to be perfect, it’s what we make it, no guarantees, don’t expect to much from others, it’s what you have to offer to the world that counts.
Please don’t do this. Please talk to me. If not me, please talk to someone. I know the pills probably won’t work, but I don’t want you to hurt yourself even a little. Please just keep talking. I’m sick and on so much medicine I feel like I’m going to pass out but I’ll try to stay awake, okay?
“As I sit here, I find myself looking at my life and seeing nothing changing. I am alone. I am never good enough. I am a constant disappointment, both to myself and to everyone around me.”
That’s eloquent. I feel this 24/7.
I know it seems like u dont have any other optioni but remember that u make your own options think again maybe u find another way out
you’re not impossible to me. just misunderstood.
I can’t believe how close you came to telling my own story (though I left Catholic school after 6th grade because I no longer believed in god). I remember when running away from home became running away to a far off university. Then, I realized that the underlying urge for escape had been suicide all along. Unfortunately, chronic suicidality, severe depression, and anxiety runs in my whole family… And, 30 years later (I’m 50, now), I’ve somehow had an amazingly rich life in between all the trips to the hospitals or laughing academies because I’ve failed at all my attempts (so far). I just want to warn you. The human body is extremely difficult to kill. I have brain damage from being dead for two lovely minutes after a cutting attempt. And, it’s actually very hard to poison yourself if there are going to be ANY people visiting, communicating, or looking for you over the span of three days or more, depending on the pills. Acetomenophene will often just end up putting you in a brief coma if you are found the next day, or you may have two weeks of waiting for death from full organ failure if you’re found later, but not late enough. Most pills perscribed these days do not have a very good track record when it comes to successful suicides (unless you can access all the drugs needed to make a cocktail). There’s nothing worse than waking up in the hospital screaming, “You didn’t save my life, you ruined my death!” at the doctor. And, it just makes life that much worse when they release you, and you have to face living your life when you were so sure you would finally escape it. Life’s a *****, and then you DON’T die, I always say.
PEACE & LOVE
Take care, however you can
I probably did just as bad or worse than you overall. My life and yours may be a tale “told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing”. Maybe there’s a reason though, maybe we grow, learn, train ourselves, experience everything we can. Maybe we can tell our tales in the end, the more pain and impossibility, the more interesting the story.
Please tell us you are okay. I keep checking back hoping you have left another post, hoping for some indication that you are okay, but I don’t find anything. 🙁