I am so frustrated with life. I can not help the urge to end it all. I barley sleep. I only eat because I have to raise my 21 month old ensuring she is healthy to have a happier life than me… Every night I want to get up out of my bed, grab a knife, and stab myself… but I can not. I have to many obligations to this world that I put on myself. I hate it here. I really want to leave. I want life to be easier. Even if I didn’t have all these things going on in my life, I don’t really know if I would be happy. I want a life where I can live without depression, without so many mental issues! I know then — it would be easier.
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I love my kids, but their mere existence prevents me from actually going through with it. A recent therapy session had me accepting the next 45 years of probable misery for their sake. You get kids and suddenly, it’s off the table. I didn’t realize how much the option of ending it was a comfort until it wasn’t an option any more.
You’re right. You can’t. They’ll never know that staying alive for them was the harder thing for you to do. And you can never tell them.
Parenting is fun.
When I was about 10 I saw my mother put a knife to herself. I was not all that shocked. The only thing I wish now, some 50 years later, is that she had gotten help to heal her horrible invisible wounds.