A couple of weeks before you died, you recommended I read Matt Haig’s book, as it explained how you felt. I never did, as I read the blurb and knew I already understood. At the time I thought it was because of my previous research into depression plus having been your confidante for so long. Now I know it’s because I too have the same dark passenger.
I’ve not had a great week this week, and today I finally started reading it. It is difficult because I know it’s how you felt, and because it fills me with despair that ultimately you ignored the contents. But it has helped me acknowledge something about my feelings now.
I don’t want to die. I just don’t want to live anymore. I want to be in that parallel universe you always talked about, the one where we are together and life is perfect.
I don’t want this life any more.
It’s why I watch the trains past my house in fascinated fear. It looks like it would really hurt to be hit by one, but at the same time I wouldn’t have this life any more.
The first time I felt like this was a couple of months before you died. I was sat in the car at the level crossing and I just said aloud, “I don’t want this life any more”. I thought it was because I didn’t have you at that time, you were very suicidal and had pushed me away. It wasn’t. It was one of the first very clear indicators, had I known, that I had depression.
What I hate the most though, is that I don’t want to stop feeling like this. I want out of this life.
I love my kids dearly, more than anything in the world, more than I can possibly express. I want to see them grow up, want to share their lives. But I don’t want my life.
They keep me alive at the moment. I know they need me and it stops me from acting on my impulses and desires. I thought about overdosing one night this week, but how would they cope in the morning? The thought made my blood run cold, so I didn’t. This whole thought process took less than a couple of seconds, yet I keep dwelling on it.
I just want a break from being me. To get out of my head for a while. But I know I won’t want to go back in it. I guess that’s where suicide comes in.