To wake up and feel rested would be great. To have motivation would be terrific but I feel like those are farfetched wishs, like wishing to win the lottery.
I look back at my childhood and curse myself. What happened to the outgoing girly girl that used to be me? What became of the content girl who liked to write stories and write those stories with the help of her Barbie dolls? I smile as I think of the little girl that used to be me but it’s bittersweet.
I’m seriously considering going off my meds cold turkey, hoping it’ll push me close enough to the edge I can jump off. I can’t see a happy future for me. I can’t see it!!
At least in the past I could see it, I could see me being happy and content. I can’t see it now. I don’t want to leave my babies…they’re one of the few reasons I wake up everyday. I can’t say I wake up for anything else…my parents don’t need me as an added trouble. At least with my brother, who is under 18, it seems justifiable. Not for me…it hasn’t been for two years.
I think not knowing how to fixed my life AND not having the will to do it is tearing me up.
If I get the courage to end the pain, I’ll miss my babies–they were the one thing in my life that were happy and cheerful most of the time. I’ll regret the pain my family will feel…but in my twisted mind, I can find reasons to make it seem like a good thing.
Maybe, like the courts do with mentally handicapped people, God will forgive me, maybe give me a new start, though I doubt it…I don’t see how He can damm all of the suicide victims to hell…they were obviously in enough pain to hurt themselves.
I’m more rambling than venting I think. This is better on a blog than in my head where it can grow into something bigger.