A few days ago I was thinking "Who am I?". I guess I figured that part out. It's been a rough week. I was at a very very low point this past weekend. I don't know if I can say it's the lowest I've ever been...but I can say that the thoughts and plans I had were the most self-destructive and suicidal that I have ever had. I was as close to the edge as I could get without jumping off. Why didn't I? Because I had doubts. I couldn't figure out a definite plan, I wasn't ready. I still don't want to hurt my family that way...or leave my hamster alone to die. But I thought of ways around all that. Well, not the destroying my family part...that would require me to be so far gone that I didn't care anymore...that I didn't feel. I was very numb, very uncaring about others. I had to be...it hurt too much otherwise. I told myself I wasn't needed...that people's lives would go on without me. That even what I do provide, they can find somewhere else. They already have it, so what's the point of me giving it? I'm very tired of giving my all and getting pieces in return. There's just so much going on, so many triggers this time of year. It's bad. And I won't pretend anymore. I can't protect everyone anymore.
I hate to worry people. I hate to have to put it in their faces to make them see how real, how serious this is. No one wanted to see before. And even now...people turned away instead of reaching out. It hurt and disappointed me. I thought I was closer to some people than that. I'm told "You can count on me, I'll always be there for you, all you have to do is ask...". But I was right there -- my post was there for all to see. Was I supposed to call up everyone until I found someone to answer while I was lying in bed in pain? Was it my responsibility to reach out to them when I was the one in need? It was obvious that I was hurting and in a very bad place -- because one friend did text me and ask if I was ok. She said she noticed I hadn't been around. Others saw...they said they did, later. But they stayed silent. Until I somehow pulled myself together, found the strength to keep going, pulled hope out of nothingness -- and called the doctor to increase my meds. I did it -- I did it myself. And then all the messages and comments came in...everyone was so supportive and caring then. Very easy to find something to say when I'm doing better? I fixed it myself. I always do. I appreciate the love...but what if I hadn't made it through the weekend? Would you have said the words at my funeral?
I know people care about me. I know they try to understand. But there are limits and conditions. That's what I can't accept. That's what disappoints me. The words, but no action. Excuses, explanations. The fact that there were hundreds of people who saw my distress and did NOTHING to stop it. Not a word -- no "hope you feel better" or "how are you". Is that so difficult? It's not -- because I do it for others. All the encouragement and prayers. All the times I answered messages when people needed me...but I was depressed myself. Times when I was crying but I got up and helped them. All the questions...don't I always answer the questions? Don't I always comment back? I was THERE. Where are my prayers, my help from those same people? Not there. They turn away. And not just from me, but from their other friends too. It's why I'm so adamant about speaking up and showing people that I am there...that they are not alone. I see so much. And I remember it all. I'm sorry...it just wasn't good enough this time. I can't just brush it aside and say, "oh well, better late than never." Because it almost was too late. Tomorrow doesn't always come.
But something good came out of this. I know who I can count on. I know how people see me and what to expect. I know that I have the strength in me to survive. My biggest fear (depression-wise) is that I'll lose control and end up in the hospital. I wasn't afraid of that a few days ago...I considered calling for someone to take me. I thought I'd need to, that it would be best. But I was able to get past it. I'm glad, because I don't know if I would survive being in the mental hospital. I don't think that I'd be taken care of the way I need to be. I can't trust anyone to take care of me. I trust no one but myself with my life. Funny isn't it...when I'm the one who values it the least?
I know I'm better than this. I know I'm the good and the bad that others see -- and say. Words do hurt, you know. The bad is amplified to extremes in myself -- I'm so insecure and self-hating. But I don't want to feel like that. I don't want to worry until I make myself physically sick or starve myself to suffer. I don't want to have anxiety that makes me feel out of control or the fear that I'll hurt myself. Or this anger that makes me want to hurt someone else. I held it all inside for so long, no one looked close enough to see...and those that caught a glimpse got a smile in return. I don't want to pretend anymore. Maybe I say too much...I don't know how not to be honest. I'm a good person, I love very deeply. But there's something very bad inside of me too...and it wants out. It's been in there since I was a kid...but I could ignore it then. Now I can't. That's the thing that I want to kill -- not myself. I don't want to die...I'm scared of it. I can't handle it when others die...feels like everyone is disappearing. Major abandonment issues. Major issues, period. I have a lot to overcome and a lot to improve. I'm still trying to figure out how.
I lost hope last weekend. But I found it again. Maybe I can find the rest of the answers too. I'm still here.
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