Suicide Is Bad Y’all
We all know suicide is bad. It’s terrible. It’s horrible waking up every day and wishing you didn’t. It’s hard to sit on the edge of your bed, crying aloud and hearing yourself list off all the reasons why you shouldn’t be here. I can’t find a single reason to be here, a reason to stay, a reason to not create a puddle of my own blood. I love my kids but I don’t think they would notice that I’m not around after a little while.
No one notices me while I am here, no one will notice me when I’m gone. I just haven’t done it. The thought is becoming more constant, more prevalent. It’s taking over everything. It’s a thick, colorless cloud overshadowing everything inside of me. I don’t want to be here anymore. I really don’t. I keep hoping for something to take me out, something to happen to me so I don’t have to do it myself. I can’t do it myself. What if I fail? Then I’ll be stuck with those consequences. I’ll lose my kids. My kids would be better off losing me in life than for me to lose them through custody. I don’t want to be committed. I don’t want to go through court bullshit. I don’t want more meds. I don’t want to talk to anyone about my thoughts only for them to tell me to be positive and get a job like the last “therapist.”
I’m a realist. Suicide is never the answer but I know I just don’t want to exist anymore. I already feel like I don’t exist. I am not who I am. I have no identity. I am nothing to myself and even less to everyone else around me. I’ve been dismissed by my family. Overlooked by my friends, and given excuses as to why I’m unwanted. There is no “it’s not you, it’s me” anymore. Now it’s, “You’re too good for me,” or “You’re too pretty,” or “You’re too independent.” Like these things are supposed to make being unwanted a positive instead of the negative that it is. I don’t want anyone like that in my life anyway.
I’m afraid to fail. If I fail, I lose. I lose everything. What little freedom I have, the small piece of sanity that remains and holds the most realistic parts of myself, the little bit of love people might still have for me but forgot about. I’d be a sympathy case. Someone seeking attention. Someone who needs help. I don’t need help. I need to get out of this life, out of this existence. I just don’t want to be here anymore. I hate myself and I hate my life. I hate who I am. I don’t like myself and I’m losing love for myself every single day. There will be nothing left soon enough. I’m almost completely broken. It won’t be long before I’m shattered to dust.
Half Strokes Of Luck 
I feel you. I really do. When I’m out in public hobbling about with my spastic arm, I feel like screaming, “It’s still ME interesa here!” People treat me differently now. But even though I have these same thoughts if escaping, I’d never do it because of my kids. They’re the only ones that don’t look at me any differently than before. And my youngest worries about me and helps me a lot. I couldn’t imagine how he’d feel if I gave up on him. Try and build up a “fuck everyone” mindset and live your life not caring about what others think or worry about finding love again. That was my trigger for a long time after my fiance died. 12 years with a best friend that saw me for who I really was. Didn’t care how I am now, and we still managed good sex.
I’m blabbing now. I just wanted to reach out and let you know I’m here if you ever want to talk.
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I posted my comment on one of your other, older posts. I was writing to thank you for your blog. I live in Australia and only recently had a stroke. Your blog helped me, because of its honesty. Your words helped me! I’m so sorry to hear about how bleak things are for you. But your writing mattered to me on the other side of the world. I hope you can draw some strength from that.
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I’ve just stayed up nearly all night reading your blog. I found it accidentally while searching “period and stroke recovery” because I seem to loose my shit the day before I get my period now. I’ve never had the pad stick to my leg but you’re outlook is entertaining and makes me feel somewhat normal again so I kept reading. I had an AVM that flooded my brain in my sleep 6 months ago (after a hell of an orgasm too so we have that it common). My life had finally come together and then the rug was ripped out from me and now I’m suppose to be grateful but I’m angry, confused, short tempered and so very sad. It was my right side that’s affected and I’m right handed so yeah that’s a bitch. I have teenagers and now I’m embarrassing to them and that stabs my heart out. Reading what you write, well I get it. I really hope you haven’t done it. I think of it too. Sometimes it’s just so tiring to keep trying. But I do keep trying and I really hope that you do too.
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