I used to be terrified of change when I was school aged. I think my wish for change to stop occurring has come true. And with that has come a new kind of hell. I am pretty sure I have not changed in the past ten years. I am still antisocial, I am still pessimistic and I am still dependent on medication to find even a sliver of hope each day to keep me alive.
I know I have said this before but even in my imagination I no longer can picture a happy ending or even a reason to live my life to the fullest until my time is up…whether there is a higher power or not.
How the heck am I supposed to tell my psychologist what is going through my head? The hospital will do nothing but add more financial strain and put a burden on my parents because one of our dogs has to be let out to use the bathroom. And not to mention the hospitals around me are not equippedto handle mental illness. The hospitals near me are more geared towards those struggling with addictions.
I am so wound up and at a loss as to a solution–that would benefit other and myself and not just me…I wish I could just cryand scream until there is nothing left!! Maybe then I would feel cleansed in a sense and know what if feels like to relax for once!! I think the coping mechanism I have built–shutting off my emotions–has made it very difficult to let go enough to let the tears fall and to let the walls down…
I wonder if I knew a fool proof way to end my life would I take it? Is it the small chance I may fail keeping me from attempting anything or is it a wavering belief that there is a more intense form of hell? I'm seriously beginning to think 'Hope' is something for kids, much like the belief in Santa, the Easter bunny and the Tooth Fairy.