What is love? Do I love my hobbies? Do I love my husband? Do I love my cats and family? My friends?
I guess I must.
For now, Love is hanging in there when all you want to do is give up.Love is continuing to breathe and not take too many pills and overdose. It’s not using the scalpel on my skin rather than craft supplies.
When I’m honest with Mark about how I feel, that I don’t see much merit in staying alive and that I would like very much to render myself dead, he says not to say that. He says he would be hurt if I did.
Wow, more guilt for me to deal with before I’ve even done anything (except for the episode in april where I was overdosing on my antidepressant/sleepaid. My only worry then (after I figured out that that’s what was going on with my body Ha ha) was me dying and the cats being left alone with not enough food or water–until hopefully one of my friends would come by and see my dead ass self wherever I was and realize the cats needed care.
And that’s another screw up for me. We have 4 cats. I take it very seriously that I am their parent and it is my responsibility to make sure they are taken care of and cared for. I can only name a few people that I think would be able to give them the care they need, and frankly, I couldn’t see anyone taken them on, with all their peculiar quirks and stuff.
I mentioned that I am selfish,right?
People say committing suicide is selfish. Because you leave everyone else behind to deal with the shit of life. I’m pretty selfish. I am. I know it. and I can openly admit it. I am not selfless, or whatever.
I don’t know how long I can keep holding on. How much longer I can roll with the waves of bullshit that keep hitting me. The anxiety keeps my body in a constant tense and tight ball that in turn makes everything else hurt. I try to flip on a positive attitude but that seems pretty pointless since I’m being bombarded with angry words and tantrums.
Because nothing is improving, or getting better. All the same issues hang in space and I want to walk off a cliff. I want to cry. I want to give up.
I don’t care if I die tonight and that’s the end of things. I’d pretty much welcome that–except of course for the fact that I would be worried about the cats. Mark is not meant to be a single parent to a bunch of cats. He’d probably try to find them a new home and move back to the UK and be with his family and friends there. So in that sense, just walking away from everything seems ok. Maybe even a better outcome for Mark since he is pretty miserable here and there is nothing that I can do about it.
I’m tired of being tired. I’m tired of just hanging in there. I’m tired of lying to everyone that I’m ok and I’m fine and hanging in there. Oh yea. I am hanging. but it feels like a very thin thread that I’m holding onto. And I’ll be honest I feel like cutting it too. It feels like its too much.
I’m sick of feeling so frustrated and angry at myself for feeling this way, and for being depressed.
I started this morning thinking that maybe I could find my paints and try to work on repainting a doll face or two. I am so far removed from that now that it seems pointless to even think about my dolls and the stories that I want to tell with them but haven’t. And I don’t know if I ever will. Maybe if I can catch a good mood I’ll manage to do it. But right now I doubt it. I’m flat. and that is it.