Suicide whispers.....

Suicide.. Death... For the first time since I was 16 and took a bottle of pills, I have thought of death as a mother might think of a child, with fondness... The idea of lying down to never rise again, never suffer again, never hurt again has a strange allure.. It's a feeling like you feel while in a very long hard day at work, how you think lovingly of your bed, becoming almost a desperation and how it would feel to stretch out between cool sheets, lie your head on your pillow and close your eyes and just rest. Sometimes death calls to me as that bed would, it whispers to me of a release from physical pain, no more will i lie awake at night, with the pain in various parts of my body, a release from loneliness, no longer will I cry alone in the dark, or in my parked car, or in bathroom stalls, in the shower, head resting on the cool tile, a release from heartache so large that it constricts my throat, I can barely swallow sometimes, let alone breathe, It's like a physical pain, a knife that constantly twists, no longer will I search for love from people who hurt me time and time again, use me and lie to me, knowingly yet I still take it, trying to fill an empty part of me that can never be filled, release from stress, no longer will I worry about how to pay bills I can't pay by myself, beg for the 60 dollars in food stamps they give me, struggle to take care of an entire family on 11.00 an hour, Try to figure out how to work 2 jobs, still be able to be around enough to raise my 13 yr old son so he doesn't have to raise himself, another black man in the the streets, try to fit in going back to school for another degree that just maybe will allow me to take care of my family without assistance, suffer through inspections for housing assistance in a house that is filled with roaches and despair, never be able to move on with my life, a husband I haven't slept with in 2 years, who offers no help and can't seem to even pull himself together enough to move out, while I sleep with my pain ridden body on the couch, a release from the fears that assault me in the dark hours of the morning, a release from this obese pain ridden body that I hate with such passion, a release from a dysfunctional relationship with food, with life, a release from the face i don't like and dark circled eye's that have surrendered all hope.. It whispers lovingly to me of comfort and rest, it calls my name daily with it's promises of these things and so much more, and yet I go on, I fight.

Why I do not know, Sometimes I pray, but I don't hear God. Does he see or hear me? I do not know. Why do people get so upset about death. I think perhaps it is selfish, your suffering matters not as they will miss you and be sad if your gone, suicide is not bad because it is bad, it is bad because of the discomfort it causes others, it seems to me. Will I commit suicide at this moment? No, this week, probably not, ever? I do not know, I know I am impulsive and when/if the time comes it will be quickly with no fanfare and/or time for letters

so I leave this just in case...

To my children, I love you more than life itself, I tried the best I could and if for some reason it wasn't enough, I am sorry, Do not cry for me because I am finally happy and resting, take comfort in that. If I am able, I will watch over you. Always do your best and hold each other near. I love you guys! To my mom, if this precedes you, I forgive you. To my brothers, grow up. To my grandmother, I love you. To my aunt, I never lied when i told your husband was touching me, your calling me a lie hurt more than his putting his hands my pants ever did, I was a child and through all the horrors I went through at home, you and your home was my refuge, the one place I felt safe. I forgive you also. I have no real friends, so I guess that is it.

Beginning again...

I’ve been thinking about creating this blog for some time now but like many depressives it took me this long just to decide. What shall I name my blog? What will I say? Will anyone read it? Does anyone care? Where do I begin? If you’re a depressive you know exactly what I mean. It seems like every decision could have huge and dire consequences and require much thought. I admit I tried my hand at blogging before, it was a weight loss blog, I wasn’t very successful at it, mainly because those blogs all seemed to be so, well so damn happy. It felt unreal to me. I couldn’t relate, I felt like a downer. My weight loss journey, hell my LIFE is more about tears and anger and frustration, hiding, feeling lonely and obsessing about things. Happy is an emotion like a holiday or a birthday. Once in a while or once a year if I’m lucky ya know.

This is going to be about me; my journey. Where I’ve come from, where I am and where I’m going. It’s going to include all of my bad times and all of my good times; it’s going to be about all of my frustrations and all of my successes. This is going to be about the real me. Take it as it is or leave it. This is a journey of discovery for me. Maybe by doing this I can get a grasp on my life. I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired, and scared. Here I will do a brief synopsis.

I’m 40 yrs. Old. I’m a mother of 2. I’m married. I’ve been depressed seemingly forever, I’ve been on every medicine you can imagine, I became diabetic as a result of the medication and obese to the size of 385 lbs., it also crippled me to the point I became disabled and am on disability. I met my savior in the form of a therapist named Dr. Jen.  I am now 130 lbs. lighter, not on any medication, I’m no longer considered diabetic, I’m 5 days from finishing a 1 year associates degree program and I’m going to leave my husband.

I feel like I’m fighting for my life. I’m treading water and as soon as I stop I will drown. I’m afraid to live and I’m afraid to die. What if there’s a worse hell waiting for me on the other side. I’m going to end this now. I have a lot to think about. I hope if nothing else my story helps or encourages someone.

Trina~