Frustration

How many of you feel like it would be easier to give up than to keep going?

I’ve tried to adopt 3 dogs – 3 fails

I’ve stopped dating completely – again ultimate fails

Nothing brings me joy any more

Ok… to be fair, I look forward to alcohol 🍷

But is that really something to live for?

Ummm, no!

This is my last outlet. I no longer want to tell my ‘friends‘ that I’m feeling lost and want to die.

They call the cops on me and then I have to explain, to people that don’t give a shit, why they need to leave me alone because I’m “okay”.

Maybe if one of them actually came to me instead of calling the police….

But I get it, they’re scared.

Aren’t we all?

(Please don’t call the cops on me. I’m not okay, but they have way better stuff to do. Really!)

F*** Life

Seriously…

Life has been beating me up recently

It doesn’t help that I can’t stop thinking about killing myself

(I do recognize how those two statements are related to each other in an evil downward spiral)

We’ll start in the middle because I don’t feel like writing about the beginning quite yet…

Suicidal Ideation

“A person with suicidal ideation may not ask for help. However, that does not mean help is not needed or wanted. Many people who die by suicide do not actually wish for death – they only want the pain to go away. Prevention of suicide begins with recognizing  the warning signs of suicidal behaviors and taking action.”¹

I need help…

Beyond Broken

I have lost the ability to articulate

My stories

My feelings

I feel stuck

Broken

Shy

Withdrawn

Lost

Tolerance

I’m out of practice

Constantly at the end of my rope

Quitting because I can’t cope

Seems like I’m practicing intolerance

And getting quite good at it, I might add

Spending more time angry

Forgetting to be grateful

Making thoughtless choices

Perhaps in hopes one of them will make things better

Or end them completely

Why I Stopped Writing

Shame is a powerful emotion

I dare say it’s as powerful an emotion as love

Both can be crippling

Accident Prone

What are these marks on your arms?

Burns.

There sure are a lot. How did they get there?

*smirk* It’s a bad habit… I always catch my arm on the rack or the top of the oven when I’m taking something out; even when I have a mitt on.

Are you doing it on purpose?

No.

I told you to stop hurting yourself.

Ummm… you told me to stop cutting myself. I am not cutting myself.

My Psychotic Break (Part 2)

To read Part 1, click HERE

After all that bullshit, we didn’t have another interaction for 6 days.

And it’s the 5th week of barely any contact…

On that Friday afternoon, he sent me a text. “You won’t believe it, but I hyperextended my knee playing basketball last night.”

He was right. I didn’t believe it…

“Oh, that’s terrible,” I answered.

There were a few more trite comments where I tried to be nice and pretend like I gave a shit.

Then our chat was over.

He’s Gone

He’s gone. I shouldn’t be so sad anymore.

But I am.

He’s gone. I should feel relief instead of loneliness.

But I don’t.

He’s gone. I need reach out to others for support.

But I can’t.

He’s gone. I still hate myself for being so stupid.

But I’m not.

He’s gone. So, why am I still broken?

Because he never refilled my cup.

After drinking so selfishly from it…

My Psychotic Break (Part 1)

After I told all you folks that I was completely done with Alaska and never ever in a million years going to take him back,

I took him back.

I was so ashamed that I couldn’t write about it.

Just like all those other times before I stopped writing because of him.

Because I didn’t want to hear your objections.

Because you were right.

And at the end end of it all, I ultimately broke.