Googling “ways to kill yourself”…

I am hesitant to say I have hit rock bottom.  Things could always be worse.  But they could be so much better also.

I am on a quest to find out what is wrong with me.  I did an “Are you autistic” quiz, and according to my results, the answer is very far from “yes.”  So what IS wrong with me?  I feel that I have always had a misguided sense of self worth.  I FEEL as though I am worthy.  I believe that I am valuable and have much to contribute.  But nobody else seems to believe these things about me.  I have come right out and asked people to tell. me straight to my face why I am unloveable.  Not one person will tell me.  I don’t think their answer would change me anyways.  I like me.

I think I finally understand suicide.  I know what it is like to be so lonely, in such agony that you feel death is the only thing that will bring peace.  I don’t want to die.  I just want to stop this inextinguishable pain.  Antidepressants aren’t helping.  A pill won’t help this kind of agony.  I know what will help me but I can’t get that.

Is there anybody out there that can send me some hope?  The only time I get any sort of relief is when I am sleeping.  If I am having nightmares, there is not even relief in the sleep.  I find it difficult to fall asleep on most nights.  And then, I find it equally difficult to wake up.  I struggle to feed and medicate my pets properly.  They don’t get the care and attention they need.  This makes me want to die even more.  The fact that I want to die makes me feel awful as well.  How can I even consider leaving them?  I won’t leave them, but as soon as the last one has died, that will be my end.  Sometimes I feel like my anguish will kill me.  The pain I have, how long can one live life like this?

My thoughts are all over the place.  I am a broken human.  I believe I am beyond help now.  There is nothing more hopeless than the point you realize you are not “fixable.”  I try to soothe myself by imagining how I wish my next life would be, if I had another chance at living.  What would make me happy?  What would help me to be better?  I need help, but I think only God could help me at this point.  He doesn’t seem to give me the kind of help I think I need.  Not sure why.

I feel like I am at the end of my life.  Like, if I don’t kill myself, I will die soon regardless.  Nobody really wants or needs me to be alive except for my pets.

I am just gonna end this blog here because I can’t muster the strength to keep typing.  It has to get better.  Please let it get better.  I wish there was some kind of anesthetic for emotional agony.  It’s really a terribly hopeless situation.  I hate feeling like this.  I just want peace and relief.  How do I get it?

 

 

 

I’m scared.

My anxiety has been through the roof since April 7th, 2018.  That is when my 14 year old shih tzu, Noah, was attacked my my neighbour’s dog.  I don’t remember ever having such relentless, constant, anxiety all day every day.  Before the attack, the night time was my favourite time of day.  His attack happened at 10pm.  I am now, for the first time in my entire life, scared of the dark.  Scared of night time.  At night I feel in imminent danger.  Something awful and horrific is just about to happen.  My startle reflex is on some sort of over time mode.  Every noise outside is my neighbour waiting to shoot me and my dogs through the window.  Every time my room mate walks into the room quietly, I jump two feet.  Every sound in my home is somehow one of my animals either choking, coughing, seizing or being injured in some way.  I feel like death is about to happen ALL THE TIME. Either to one of my pets, myself or a family member.  It’s a foreboding feeling that is driving me crazy.

I have tried meditation, CBT, medication, classes at my hospital, mindfulness, exercise and none of those things are helping me.  Well…  maybe they ARE helping me and I’d be even worse not trying any of these things.  Tonight I was laying here in my bed with my mind racing.  I envision horrific things and then I try to counteract those thoughts with things that are GOOD right now and that I am thankful for.  The problem is that I took my sleeping pill which is starting to kick in (thankfully!)

So I think it will be easier to make my two lists here, on “paper.”

My first list is gonna be the things I am scared of RIGHT NOW and cannot stop ruminating over:

1. My animals are all going to die.  Every single one.  My babies, my family, the only ones that are a constant in my life will leave me.  One by one.  They will all get ill and require tons of veterinary bills. How will I ever keep up with these bills?  I am drowning.

2. I can’t imagine my life after I don’t have my animals anymore.  Every scenario is so dreadful that I feel I don’t want to live if I can’t have my pets.

3.  Who will die first?  Second?  Third?  OMG…  these are the questions my brain obsesses over.  I can’t stop wondering and dreading and waiting.

Here is my second list:  The list of thoughts I TRY to counteract my negative thoughts with.  The things that are GOOD and the things that I am thankful for and blessed with…

1.My animals are all ALIVE.  Breathing and comfortable!  They have had all their medications and they all have full tummies.  They are sleeping soundly and comfortably.

2.  I have a full time job with amazing benefits that I can work entirely FROM MY HOME! I rarely have to leave my animals, and can monitor their health and condition at all times.  I can work peacefully knowing they are all around me and I can be sure they are ok.

I am sure there is more I am thankful for, but that’s all I can write for now.  Thank God for my sleeping pill.  It is the only time of the day or night when I can be free of these tormenting things that worry me.

More later…

 

Alone.

I am so alone and lonely.  I have my beloved animals, but all my brain keeps telling me is that they are old.  They will die soon.  I will have no one after they are gone.

I am trying my best.  Trying so hard to just wake up every day.  To get out of bed.  To feed and medicate my precious babies.  They need me.  They have nobody else but me.  To have such a responsibility is stressful.  I am still awake.  Running out of money.  Calling in sick a lot to my job.  This stress is unbearable.  I lie awake Googling things like, “suicidal”, “depression help”, “unloved”.  I’ve been in this darkness before.  I will get through it.  I feel like every time I go through this type of darkness, it takes a few years off of my life…

I have failed at this life.  I am incompetent.  I am not pretty.  I am childless.  I am old.  I am desperate.  I am losing my faith.  I still believe there is a God.  I just don’t understand him at all.  I don’t understand how he let me be born.

What do I think would legitimately make me feel better and help me to keep going?  I think about this all the time.

  1. If I could just pay off my debts.  I owe about 13,000.  Much less debt than many people, but it haunts me.  It makes me sick.  I hate owing money.
  2. If I could get a massage a few times a week.  The kind from a real massage therapist.  I truly believe it would help me feel better.  More calm.  Less afraid all the time.
  3. If I could have a husband/boyfriend/partner.  Basically, someone to love me.  It would ease my burden immensely, I am sure.
  4. If I could get enough money to start school in January.  It is only $1500, but I just don’t have that money.  The course is five months long.  If I could successfully complete it, my earning potential would grow a lot.  I want to be self sufficient.  I want to financially take care of myself and my animals.  I don’t need much.  I just don’t want to have to depend on anyone else for finances ever again.  It is shameful and embarrassing.
  5. I would like to get a couch and table and chairs for my kitchen.  I sold my couch and dining set before I moved to my new place because there is far less space here.  I still love where I live, but I just need smaller furniture.  Furniture is definitely at the BOTTOM of my priorities.  I just think my depression would ease a bit if I could walk into my home and see a couch and table and chairs instead of lawn furniture. Like I said, way at the bottom of my priorities, but I do think it would lighten my mood a bit.

So that’s it.  It would not take much for me to feel better (I think), but this stress seems insurmountable.  I feel frozen.  I feel like I am drowning.  I’m trying to catch my breath and stay afloat for the sake of my animals.  I cling to the possibility of still being happy and loved in this life.  I wish I could just give up, but I’m not made that way.  I never quit trying for very long.

This isolation is unbearable.  I think the shorter days have exacerbated my feelings.  I keep telling myself to hold on.  Ride it out.  I will have a chance to rest.  I will be able to smile and laugh and have hope again.  It’s definitely harder to keep going as I get older…  This life is hard.  It is almost unbearable at times.  Is this feeling of isolation and loneliness common?  Other people I interact with on a daily basis seem like they are all coping.  They are all waking up at a decent hour, getting dressed, eating and functioning. Me?  I have difficulty rolling out of bed.  I rarely get dressed and I am showering every other day.  I struggle to even brush my teeth.  I need help, but there is no help.  My animals need me to keep it together, so I will for them.

Oh my god, this is dark.  I hate November.  Nothing but snow and isolation and loneliness ahead.  Does anybody else out there feel these things too?  Can anyone else relate?

Thankful…

So, my last blog was kind of a downer.  This one I’m gonna try to make more positive.  This is a conscious effort.  So, I have a LOT to be thankful for.  I’m gonna make a list and just keep adding to it until I get tired or can’t think of anymore.

1. I am so thankful I am not a mean person.  I can be mean.  I have the ability to size up someone’s weaknesses very quickly.  I can use those weaknesses to hurt someone very badly if I think it’s needed.  I often used this ability when I was younger if someone was mean to me.  I’d usually “nip it in the bud” quite quickly.  Now, I rarely feel the need to strike at anyone so viciously.  My mother could be such a mean person.  I learned to be my meanest from her.  She had a “niceness” that many people seemed to believe in, but it often wasn’t genuine.  She was “syrupy sweet”, almost nauseatingly so.  I know why a lot of people fell for it.  They didn’t have to live with her.  She did do nice things in her life, but, often she was so nasty.  I’m so thankful that I could decipher between the sincerity and the fake.  I’ve lost a bit of that ability through the years, but I think it’s because I don’t have to be on “alert” 24/7.  I’ve lost practice and I’m thankful for that.  So, yeah, I’m thankful I’m not mean.

2.  I’m thankful that I had wonderful friends growing up.  I chose friends who never got into real trouble.  I chose friends who did well in school, who worked, who behaved themselves.  I never got into really serious trouble with any of my friends and I am thankful for that.  My friends were good.  Their parents were good.  My friends were one reason I survived my childhood.  I don’t believe my friends had any comprehension of the things I went through, but I had them to look to as example of how I wanted my life to be someday.  Peaceful and good.  I still choose good friends.

3.  I’m thankful for my determination.  Even when I feel like giving up, I am usually not able to.  I may get into a horrible depression and feel like dying, but that feeling never lasts forever.  It may last weeks or even months, but eventually, I ALWAYS try again.  I always keep going.  I always get back up.  Through the years, I have felt myself weaken a little.  It has gotten harder to get back up as I have aged, but I always get back up eventually.  I’m thankful for that.

4. I’m thankful for my perspective.  It is rare and it is honest and it is real.  I will admit that my perspective can become distorted and inaccurate at times.  Thankfully those times are short lived.  I can see past someone’s clothing.  I can see past their smell.  I can see past their meanness.  I can envision many scenarios that could have contributed to a person’s appearance and behaviour.  I can see past someone’s dementia.  My perspective doesn’t necessarily mean that I understand a person’s behaviour, but I am often able to think of many scenarios that could contribute to behaviour.

I think I enjoy writing about the things I am thankful for.  Right now, my bran has hit that exhausted stage where your thoughts begin to melt together.  A sure sign I need to sleep.  So many more things to be thankful for.  I’ll try to pick up again soon…

 

Desperate for someone to love me.

I admit it.   I am desperate for someone to love me.  I need someone to love me.  I’m no different than anyone else who needs love.  Sure, people like me.  I just need someone to love me.  I need an adult human being to find me valuable and beautiful.

I am so tired of all the “Christian-ese” I hear every day.  “All you need is God.  Seek Him and you will have everything you need.”  I call bull shit.  Firstly, if all I needed was God, He would not have made the most important commandment in the bible to love Him and then, secondly, LOVE OTHERS.  Why would we even need to worry about loving others if His love was all we ever need?  God KNOWS we need to be loved, so He has commanded us to love one another.  To care for one another.  He has bombarded us with stories in the Bible about the good Samaritan and the prodigal son etc…  Even God knows we NEED love.  He made us that way.  I think His plan sucks though, if I have to be honest.  It is an awful plan because not all humans are loved.  Not all human beings are loveable.  But, even being unloveable, we still need it.  We need love like we need air and food.  But, while we all have air, I suppose we don’t all have food (which is another shitty “plan” of God’s, if you ask me.)

My anguish comes in cycles.  It is at it’s peak between September and January.  After January passes, things seem to settle down a little and I can sustain on my pets, psychiatric medication and good music.  Every year it is the same.  Let’s start with September.  What does September mean to me?  September means “going back to school”, which means HOPE of a better future.  Going to college means having parents who believe in you and WANT you to succeed.  Going to college means you were either provided the funds by loving parents OR you were at least provided a SAFE place to live while you work your way through school.  September is an agonizing reminder that I lacked the presence of anyone in my life who wanted me to do well.  I HATE September.  I HATE that I did not get to finish school.  I had such potential.  I am smart.  I am hard working.  I am determined.  Even with all that, I am still no further ahead than when I was 16 years old.

After September comes Thanksgiving.  The holiday where you get to be thankful for a lot of things.  I AM thankful.  I have so much to be thankful for that it would take a whole other blog entry to list what I have to be thankful for.  But having everything in the world does not replace being loved and having a family.  Thanksgiving is a stark reminder of how I am alone.  I have no family to spend the holiday with.  Not one family member thought of me or missed me.  Embarrassing and shameful.

Next will come Christmas.  When I worked at a hospital, I’d work every holiday I could.  It was a great distraction.  It didn’t matter that nobody wanted to be with me at Christmas time because I was working anyways.  No biggie.

Then, New Year’s Eve was just another punch in the throat.  Extra sleeping pill at 8pm to sleep the festivities away.  Again, no biggie.  And, as soon as all that is over and done with for another year, here comes my birthday.  I hate my birthday.  Just another reminder of the same old stuff.

After January, I’m pretty much capable of pulling off the rest of the year with the help of my animals, my kid friends, anti depressants and sleeping pills and the occasional doctor’s appointment.  I can get by.  Until September rolls around again.

I’m getting angry.  I’m pissed off at being unloved.  I look at some women who’ve been wanted by someone, gotten married and even gotten knocked up.  Some of these women are gross.  And yet, they still managed to be loved by someone.  How?  What is their secret?  I see women who are drug addicts who have managed to be loved and have children.  I have seen women who have not taken care of themselves and still managed to be wanted.  I have seen women who refuse to work and still, they are wanted by someone.  And, most of them also have families.  As I write this, I can envision people saying to themselves, “You sound like a snobby bitch.  No wonder nobody loves you!”

Even snobby bitches have people who love them.  I wish I didn’t care.  I wish it didn’t bother me so much.  All I want is to be loved.  I’m so pissed off that nobody loves me.  It’s not fair.  I love better than anyone I have ever met.  I live my life with such compassion and empathy.  I have sacrificed so much for others.  I love myself.  I want what is good for myself.  I take care of myself.  I value myself.  I am still unloved.  I am beyond desperate for an answer.  How do people get love?  I’m willing to get hurt by some blunt answers regarding my flaws if it will help me be loveable.  I wish somebody would tell me.  Maybe I could change that part of myself, if I try hard enough.  I just want someone to love me.

I guess it’s why I have a heart for unwanted animals.  That’s what I am too.  I may not find the answer, but I will die trying.  I feel like one of those scrawny, stray cats you see trying to shelter itself from the rain.  Cold, hungry, unloved and lonely.  Overlooked and nobody noticing.  If someone does notice, they usually look the other way and think to themselves, “You can’t save them all.”  So why even try?  Even stray cats have rescues now that try to help…  I wish there was a rescue for adult humans who need love.  Maybe that will be my next dream…  To start a rescue for unwanted humans.  It reminds me of something Jesus would do…

The Uglies.

I had a doctor who called it that.  This feeling.  This knowledge that you are physically so disgusting and hideous that nobody can love you.  You focus on a flaw you have and your brain magnifies it.  You look in the mirror and there it is.  You look at it for hours until you feel you may vomit.  Then, just as quickly you swear off mirrors.  You vow to never look into a mirror until this feeling passes.  You cannot look at your disfigurement.  So that’s me lately.  I have the uglies.  It is so painful that the thought of dying is the only thing that I can imagine will bring relief to this pain-this knowledge- that I am ugly and disfigured.  The thought of dying or some serious reconstructive plastic surgery to make me beautiful-and loveable.

I didn’t always feel ugly.  In fact, I remember sitting in front of a full length mirror just after a bath.  I must have been grade two or three.  I thought I was so cute.  Adorable.  I loved everything about my body.  I was not vain and I didn’t think myself better than anyone else.  I just felt comfortable in my skin and I could pick out certain things I loved about myself.  Then, something happened.  Many things happened.  Horrific things happened to me that I could not escape.  I could not fathom how these things were done to me, and, WORSE, how people could look away and not help me.  I needed help.  Asked for help.  Screamed for help.  But nobody helped me.  I watched those commercials that advertised the fact that “if you just told an adult you needed help, you would get it.  Never keep secrets.  If someone is hurting you, ask an adult for help.”  It’s not always true.  Adults will not always help you.  Adults will look away.  They will cower.  They will even blame you.  They will tell you it’s your fault.  They will ignore your screams or even try to silence them.

I have always been someone who wants to know WHY.  Why people behave the way they do.  Why people feel the way they do.  Why people think the things they think.  I am obsessed with trying to figure out WHY.  I don’t know why I want to know these things, other than I think maybe it will bring some relief from my thoughts.  So I try to figure it out myself.  I would look at myself in the mirror, as I grew older.  What exactly about me was it that made people ignore my pain?  I often looked at other people, who seemed to me to be loved and happy.  Often, those people would be well dressed-and beautiful.  Naturally beautiful.  Pretty and cute people are often treated better in this world.  I realized that, if I was being treated badly and ignored, it must be because I do not appear to be someone who deserves help, compassion and love.  And what EXACTLY about me makes me appear less worthy to other people?  I looked for “it” for months and years.  Staring into a mirror looking for that “thing” that made me disgusting to other people.  I remember when I saw it.  When I finally realized what might be making me less valuable and unloveable in other people’s eyes:  my nose.  It was crooked.  How could I have not noticed it before!?  It was like a punch in the throat.  Mainly because it was something “unfixable” without a LOT of courage and money (two things I certainly did NOT have!)  I stood in front of the bathroom mirror.  I must have been 17 or 18.  I felt hot.  I felt sick to my stomach.  It was hideous.  And right then began decades of mental anguish and torment.  I could not stop looking in the mirror.  When someone treated me badly, I’d look into the mirror and swear I saw it getting more crooked right before my eyes.  I’d be driving my car and, all of a sudden, I’d glance in the rear view mirror and see it was even more crooked than before!  OMG.  If I was unloveable with it being this crooked, how could I ever hope to be loved as it got more misshapen!?  I would sometimes have to pull my car over from the panic of being so ugly and unloveable.

I was trying to describe it to my doctor once.  This hideous feeling of ugliness and un-loveability and disfigurement.  I said, this is how it must feel to be anorexic.  You feel so fat and horrific that you would rather die than look a certain way.  He agreed that the feelings must be similar.  I even consulted with a plastic surgeon about fixing my nose.  I walked out about ten minutes before my surgery.  Why?  Because of my phobia of vomiting.  (That’s a whole other blog post)  So, in one fell swoop, I pissed off my doctor, who, in my eyes, was my last hope of possibly becoming loveable.  I would forever be ugly and disgusting and unloved.  That was twenty years ago, but it still makes me feel sick when I think about how close I was to having an entirely different existence.  A better one.  A more peaceful one.

I have a new “ugly” that I have never really had to deal with before.  I am now fat.  I’m not obese but I could lose about 40 pounds.  And, now that I am 41, I am getting wrinkles.      And I still have all the other “little” traits about myself that have bothered me for years also.  I am pale.  My eyelashes and eye brows are so fair that I look ill and washed out most of the time.  I recently got a sun burn and my skin is peeling this week too.  And of course, there is always my crooked nose.  And just being 41 in general is uncomfortable to me too.  It is uncomfortable because I have no children and that is so shameful and embarrassing to me.  It is uncomfortable because my “prettiest years” are far behind me now because of age alone.  Even if I was gorgeous, I would never be as gorgeous as I was in my twenties.  Aging makes everyone, especially women, invisible.  I am embarrassed and ashamed that nobody wanted to marry me.  I am humiliated that my own family ignored me and deserted me.

A few times in my life a couple of people have given me a hint as to why I may be unloveable.  They were only hints and nobody was straightforward enough with me to make it clear about what exactly is unloveable about me.  I was too afraid to ask them.  I wasn’t ready to hear the truth.  The truth still scares me.  The first person to almost tell me what was wrong with me was a guy.  They’ve all been men actually.  He looked at me and said, “You know, I’d almost date you if it wasn’t something about you.  I don’t know what it is.”  And just like that, those words would haunt me at least once a day for the next twenty years.  What was that “something” about me?  WHAT WAS IT!???  I didn’t ask him.  And he has likely never again thought about those few painful, life-changing words he said to me so long ago.  I know it had something to do with my personality.  That much I did know.  So, not only did I have to worry about my physical characteristics that were deeply disfigured, I also had to worry about part of my personality that was making me unloveable.  Unwanted.  Then, years and years later, I developed a huge crush on a guy. A doctor.  Doctors are one of the most amazing kinds of people to me.  They dedicate a good portion of their lives learning how to heal people and help people.  And after they have learned and learned for years, they dedicate many more years putting that knowledge to practice.  That is absolute beauty to me.  Anyways, this doctor was a charmer.  One day he took me for a ride in his car and, said to me, “You’ll never have children.”  He didn’t just say it out of the blue.  I don’t recall how the topic came up but I will never forget those words.  They were like a punch in my throat.  I think because, deep down, I already knew he was right.  Nobody would ever love me enough to think of having children with me.  And, because I looked up to him and valued his opinion, those words hurt me to the core.  He saw it too.  That “thing” about me that made me unwanted and unloveable and disgusting.  Another time he told me that if I ever did want children, I would have to be artificially inseminated.  Often, when I just cannot stop wondering what exactly makes me unwanted and unloveable, I am tempted to contact him.  Ask him to please tell me what it is he sees in me that makes it evident that I am deeply flawed.  Then I get scared.  I never do contact him to ask him.  I’m afraid to know.  I have worked on trying to “improve” myself for decades.  I have never met another human being that tried so hard and was still a failure.  I think it would be too painful to know the truth about myself.  I don’t think I could really handle it.

So, this is what is keeping me awake tonight.  I have run out of my Zopiclone and can’t get a refill until tomorrow.  Zopiclone makes me forget about all of this so I can fall asleep.  Get some relief from my thoughts.  If you are reading this and know what it is about me that makes me unattractive and unloveable, please don’t tell me.  I obsess about knowing, but I am not strong enough to know.