Got a bus to catch on August 8.
Is it noteworthy when someone seeks out only those pornographic websites where women are being brutalized? I’m quite open-minded concerning other people’s sexual proclivities, but this one I can’t get past.
62 more days to go. I met my then-future husband in the state where I grew up and was practicing law. His work took him to another state and I accompanied him after we got married. I’ve been a stay at home mom all this time — 13 years. He makes a good living but he’s a compulsive debtor. I kept us afloat with my inheritance — over $100,000. We’re in the middle of a divorce and it looks like our house will have to be sold because I cannot get a mortgage in my own name due to my not having a two-year work history.  I love my house and our daughter […]
I have had suicidal ideation since I was 9 or 10. I believe it is largely due to being raised by two people who pretty much daily let me know that I was unwanted and a tremendous burden. I hesitate to suck on a helium tank because I’m told that it would irreparably harm my 13 year-old daughter. I am 50 years old and cannot grasp that I matter that much, never having meant anything to my parents except to be their emotional punching bag. Sometimes my empathy is crippling, but on this point I just don’t get it.
My daughter’s last day of camp is August 10. If I leave August 8 and send a delayed e-mail to her father, that gives him a day to clean up the mess (and hopefully feed the cats). He’ll have to pick her up, obviously.
There are suicidal people who have mental illness, but in my opinion, wanting to take one’s own life is not a mental illness, nor is it necessarily indicative or symptomatic of one. Rather, it is likely a spiritual condition residing at a far point on a spectrum. 30 years ago suicide was as taboo a subject as divorce. Today it is a sign of an imbalance of brain chemistry. 30 years from now it will be regarded as I posted here. Just a guess.
I find it grossly unfair that if I had a terminal illness I would be discussing its ramifications with my daughter and preparing her for my demise. But because I intend to depart by my own hand, I have to stay silent and she’ll have to endure the shock and the potential lifetime effects of not only my death, but having no preparation for it. All of the questions she’ll have later I would gladly answer now, but that’s against the rules.
My mother is a narcissist. My mother is a professional victim. My mother is a fine actress although she’s never been on stage. As a child, I wasn’t allowed to breathe without her permission, input, critique, or criticism. She convinced people that she was a loving mother — a little overprotective, perhaps — but a loving mother and a devoted, long-suffering wife. All that came out of her mouth were sighs of her having to endure my volatile father and her shit daughter. Not my sister — she went to medical school so she’s an expert on every subject. I’m the lawyer, and hence, the moron in the family. My daughter and I […]
I turned 50 today. My daughter turned 13 today. We ate at the Rainforest Cafe. The waitstaff brought out two cupcakes, each with a lit candle. I was told to make a wish, but none came to mind except, “I wish I would die.”
On Mother’s Day I wrote that I wanted to wait until my daughter turned 18. I don’t want to check out while she’s so young, but I don’t see myself holding on another 6 years.
I am not killing myself today because I do not want my daughter to believe that I didn’t love her enough to stick around a little longer. I find this agonizingly ironic because knowing only hatred from my mother and my sister (the golden child) and brutality from my father are at the root of my eager anticipation of my death.
I’m 49 years old and have had suicidal ideation since I was about 9. I’ve had a lifetime of therapy, over 23 years of 12-step meetings, and almost 20 years of anti-depressants. I have many friends, I’m a licensed attorney, and I have the most charming house. Most important of all, I have the most awesome kid. When I read that I should not commit suicide because “things will get better,” I assure you, in many respects things couldn’t get any better. However, the effects of child abuse are incurable and life-long and after being alive for almost half a century, I am confident that things, fundamentally, […]
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