It has been a while since I have been here, and to be honest, I am not quite sure how I have been feeling. It has been a true rollercoaster of emotions for me. I feel sad, lonely, scared, terrified and yet, I am still here. To be completely honest with you, it has not passed 1 day that I have thought about death as my way out, but for some reason, I am still here.
Sometimes the feeling is very overwhelming, sometimes it isn’t, but I just wish it never was. I remember the days when I could live my life without feeling sad, although having said that, my first suicide attempt was when I was 15. I have never been one to cut myself. I am an overdose person. I like the idea of going to sleep and not waking up again, and that is it. Unlike some of you, I don’t have scars to show. I have a friend who has scars all over her body. She would write things in her stomach with knifes, so the scar would stay forever there to remind her. When one of her dear friends died, she cut a cross sign in her upper arm, also to remind her of it. Only once I was pushed to the edge and almost cut my wrists. Although I did have blood, it was not deep enough to leave a scar.
I think my scars are more emotional than physical. I keep telling myself that I am not worthy of anything. My ex-husband used me. The man I love with all my heart will not do what needs to be done for us to be together. Someone else I met, that could potentially help me get out of this dilemma is not interested in me. All in all, people say how pretty I am, but the truth is, I am not worth it. Sometimes I am happy with that. Sometimes I am not. I know in the bottom of my heart that my cats are happy living with me, but sometimes I doubt myself.
When I was little, my dad used to come home drunk every single night. We had a little dog called Blondy. She was a beautiful Pekinese, but a little dumb is you ask me! My dad would do horrible things to her, so of course, each time she heard his car coming, she would hide, just like the rest of us. He is not cruel to animals, but would do silly things to her. Sometimes, when I am drinking, I am very aware as to how I treat my cats. I would hate it if they went to hide as soon as they saw me with a glass in my hand. Thankfully, they are always all over me, so I suppose it is a good sign that I am not cruel to them when I drink.
I feel sad, I feel helpless and I feel hopeless. I try to see a future, but I can’t see my life without this illness. It has been far too long since I have been feeling this way, and I just can’t help but ask whether it will go away.
