Anniversary 

I’ve struggled this month. It all kicked off between us a year ago: the realisation conversation, the first kiss, the tidal wave of emotions pouring out, the amazing first time we had sex, and then today, the first time you told me you loved me and I said it back. So when your best friend added me to Facebook and then deleted me, I’ve come crashing down.

Bloody social media. I know you hated it. But the reason it hurt so much, threw me into this trough of murky black gloom, is because the first thought I had was that you were still alive and he wanted to tell me.

I just can’t cope with that glimmer of hope, even though I know it’s impossible. I still hang on to it, just in case, and when it turns out to be me being a div, this happens.

There’s a short list of things I want to do now:

  1. Die
  2. Drink myself into oblivion
  3. Lock myself away from the world and cry until my face is swollen and I fall asleep with exhaustion .

That’s in order of preference.

However for now, I’m going to do the right thing and try and meditate myself out of this. Once the kids are in bed later, I’ll partway complete number 2, maybe 3 as well, then tomorrow I’ll dissolve myself into work and hope that getting out of my head in all these various methods will do the trick.

I love you, SM.

Struggling

The only time I’ve ever wanted to kill myself more than now was the first time the thought entered my head.

I’ve had such a bad day. Reading about the memorial to you at work hit me so, so hard. Then this whole thing with my sister has just pushed me down the slope. I’m so lonely. And then coming home to a letter asking me to prove im alone was the last straw. I need you so much. I just want to be with you.

My son is the only thing keeping me alive.  The thought of him waking up alone in the house tomorrow sickens me, so I can’t do it. But I want to. Right now, I just want to be in your arms. Saying nothing, doing nothing. Held tight, your love tangible in the air.

I know you had demons you couldn’t carrying on fighting. I wish you were here and could help me fight mine.

I love you forever, SM x

Just Checking In

Hey, SM. Been talking about you at lunch. I know you hate that, but it’s tough now. Get over it 😉

Anyway, it felt good to talk about us: how we’d meet at lunch, play footsie under the table in meetings or meet briefly in the car park when you needed reassurance or support. It lead to talking about your last weekend though, and whilst it was good to be able to speak about it without breaking down, now I’m on a low and can’t stop thinking about you. All the what ifs: what if I’d said something else, done something else, saved you somehow. It’s pointless, it’s not going to change anything, but I can’t help it.

I’ve learnt in CBT to allow myself these feelings, acknowledge them, feel them and not think less of myself for doing so. But I still don’t like it.

So I thought I’d just say hi, that I love you and miss you, and I hope you’re at peace.

#yours, SM x

Reasons To Stay Alive

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.