Monday, 5 October 2015

a week ago

a week ago

i left home with a bag 

i was reported as missing person

i checked into a hotel room

i wrote a few letters

i took a large overdose


and, well, I was hoping that would be it.


I was hoping for the profound.

Alas, no.

The police found me, Bean found me, the paramedics found me.*

What to say, nothing really. After almost a year I'm back to where I was. 


Anyhoo, after a few nights in hospital, I'm back at home. Home, a place I never thought I'd see again. 

I am now in a world in which Bean doesn't trust me, Bean's family and best friends really don't like me (for good reason, I keep hurting their boy), none of my friends are talking to me (because really what can you say to me and all I have to say is that I want to be dead to allow Bean to move on with his life) and the therapy to keep me alive seems altogether rather unnecessarily painful. 

I don't understand how I can suddenly decide that I don't want to be dead. In my head it is perfectly rational to want to be dead. It's all I've thought about for the past few months. I know that Bean and my family and my therapist want me to have hope but it seems so foolish. Indeed why are my thoughts not valid? Why is everyone else automatically right and I'm wrong? I understand that suicide is final but apparently "my body, my decision" doesn't work in this instance.

Therapy will continue to be hard, perhaps too hard, they want me to have hope and all I think of is death. I don't think I'm even "allowed" to hold such diametrically opposing views at the same time? How does the hope strengthen? I can't imagine thinking about anything else, especially when the words on repeat in my brain are simply, "pathetic and useless."

As an aside the day I left home a parcel arrived on our doorstep. This was inside.



Ha, The Happiness Planner. Oh the delicious irony. 

Perhaps I should use it? I think I ordered it a month ago. It asks for you to create 100 days of happiness. I've promised Bean I will not try to kill myself until at least 18th October, next weekend marks 15 years since our first kiss. Oh spin the bottle, you found me a man who is far too good for me. Far too good for me.

I do not know what I want. Truly, I wish I were dead. I wish I knew how to find hope because I know Bean wants me to stay alive. And above everything else I want Bean to be happy because when he frowns it hurts.

How do I make the jump. It's a question I keep failing. (And I fail a lot, so at least I've got consistency going for me).

Seriously, do I try to get through this therapy for a life that I've ruined? What hope do I have?**

Hmm, I just don't know. It's just such a lonely place to be. The loneliness hurts.***

*     yes I am acutely aware of how much taxpayers money I wasted in those few hours
**   purely rhetorical
*** it's entirely self imposed - I have taken to hiding in a cocoon of solitude