Some people have children that give them enough reason to keep living despite the need to die, others have family or friends, maybe a career. Even the people who wish to end their existence because they feel as though they make the lives of everybody around them noticeably worse often have somebody to live for. What if a person doesn’t have children, family, friends, or somebody to live for? What if they’re like me? Alone.
Although I have felt and am convinced I have fought in this one-sided war alone for my entire life I do not have the desire to commit suicide. Even on my worst days when it’s too much for my body to take death isn’t an option. On nights like Wednesday night and days like today when waking up is instant disappointment; as much as I don’t want to can’t live like this any longer, I want to live. God I want to fucking live.
Last night, after a failed attempted of making up with K, I indulged in self-harm and really scared myself. I wasn’t careful like I usually am, well, as careful as one can be while purposely harming themselves. I allowed myself to go deeper than I usually do because fuck! I wanted to die, and once I seen the depth I needed more. And more. And more. K let me come back over to her place when after I called when I couldn’t get the bleeding to stop and she said I could stay the night. After arriving I took a shower, well, I sat in the shower with my back to the stream and grounded myself, and I crawled into my side of her bed. She had the pillows set up the way I need them to be and she found my favorite show on the television and had it playing when I was done. When K is upset she cleans. She is a very busy person, she hates just sitting around doing nothing (which I love to do). So she hurried about in the kitchen doing dishes and wiping down counters and appliances and I laid in her bed and watched her through teary eyes.
I can’t explain how much I love that woman. She frustrates me. Irritates me more than anybody ever has. She makes me feel alone and worthless. And some days I really hate her. But fuck, sometimes she makes me feel so goddamned loved by doing the smallest fucking things for me like fixing my pillows and turning on COPS for me. I just watched her and thought about how much I wanted to marry her. But then the thoughts came and reminded me that I’m not good enough for her. K isn’t happy with me. She’s miserable. I make her miserable. I watched her for a few more minutes while listening to the screaming in my head and decided I needed to leave. Not just her house but her. I’m no good for her. So I climbed out of bed and hugged her as tight as I could telling myself to memorize the way it feels because it was the last time. Reluctently I let her go and walked to the door stopping to look at her one more time before I left. I love her so much. I mouthed the word “bye” because my voice refused to come with me and I walked out to the truck and drove home.
Disappointment and another episode came when I woke up, alive. That was it, I had enough. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t live like this anymore. Today is the day that I’m going to die. And que the psycho texts to K. Followed by K calling Dad. Today was fucking awful. It was worse than Wednesday. After a couple of hours of me screaming at Dad to leave my apartment and leave me alone I laid in bed and thought to myself that I really do need to turn myself in to the mental hospital. I really do need help. Or to just go ahead and fucking do the damn thing. So I called Charlene (apparently I’ve been misspelling her name). The voice that answered the phone informed me that she wasn’t in the office on Monday’s but she would email her and she would call me as soon as she could when she came in on Tuesday. Fanfuckingtastic. I curled myself into a ball and sobbed while Dad sat on my dresser and watched.
Dad hates emotions. He was pissed off when he came into my apartment and started yelling questions at me. WHATS WRONG NOW? I’m fucking alive, that’s what motherfuckingcocksucker. STOP CRYING. WHY ARE YOU CRYING? JUST STOP. Pissed doesn’t even explain how I felt towards K for calling him. Eventually I just started cussing him out over top of his insensitive sentences. I had thoughts of physically hurting him. I could take him, he weighs like eighty pounds. I could kill him if I tried. And I wanted to. He kept calling Charlene’s office trying to get in touch with somebody and tell them it was an emergency I talk to somebody but he kept getting no answer.
After a few hours more of that I looked up the number of the mental health hospital in my town and declared that I would try to talk to K once again and if she wouldn’t talk to me I was turning myself in. So I called K one more time and her voice was soft when she answered unlike every other time when you can hear her hatred towards me. I asked her to please come to my apartment and talk to me and she said she would. So I laid down and waited for her to come.
While I was waiting Dad was finally able to get somebody at Charlene’s office to answer and he explained, the best he could, my situation and that I had recently self-harmed but he hasn’t seen it so he doesn’t know how bad it is, the lady on the other end put him on hold and came back a few minutes later saying that she could get me in with Charlene tomorrow, a day earlier than my original appointment, and she could give me the number to a crisis center and I could call and talk to them if I felt I needed to. Fuck no. But I was glad that they could move my appointment up, even if it is just twenty four hours.
K came and Dad left, I’m sure he was glad to get out of here and away from me. I began begging K not to give up on me yet. Just give me one more chance to show her I can be better. For three hours she told me no and that she loved me and she was sorry but she couldn’t be with me any longer. I finally was able to pull myself together and make her laugh and her coldness towards me began to thaw. I continued to beg her not to leave me, not to give up on me. At the end of the conversation she said she just needed some time to clear her head, that she wasn’t leaving me, she just needed time. I don’t believe in time so I told her no, which made her laugh. I began telling her that in a few days she would still be exhausted from me and I would still be insane but if she let me I could show her I can be better. Eventually I talked her down from a few days to a few hours and I watched her leave and wondered if I would ever see her again. When she left she said “I’ll see you later, okay? I’ll see you later. I love you.” But I knew she would go home and talk herself out of staying with me.
About three hours later I text her and asked if it was “later” yet and she didn’t reply. I waited thirty minutes and then I called her, she answered and sounded tired but said she was trying to think of how to reply to my message. I told her to think about it and text me and let me know one way or the other. Fifteen minutes after we hung up I text her and told her if she needed help telling time I was a pro at reading clocks. No reply. Forty minutes later I was standing on her porch knocking on her door preparing myself to be scolded.
K answered the door and immediately said “Babe I’m sorry, I fell asleep” and she grabbed me and kissed me in a way that we haven’t kissed in a while. We then had a good evening together. We didn’t fight. I made her laugh and we were more physical than we have been in the recent past. Not too physical because I’m still unable to keep my thigh from bleeding but I needed tonight. She was expecting me to spend the night and I was too but hypomania gives me superpowers that makes it unnecessary to sleep. I let her fall asleep in my arms and watched her for a while. Taking in how beautiful she is and how much I want to get better so I can love her the way she deserves. Then woke her up and told her I was going to go home. She said she’d text me in the morning and that she loved me.
In twelve hours I will be seeing Charlene. I will be honest with her with the fact that this is becoming too much for me to handle. I’m going to request ECT as it works quicker than medicine. I am going to get better. Not all at once. But I’m going to.
Love, Pacie 