The other night I spent the night in a hospital with a friend who is fighting breast cancer. She is fighting so hard to beat this disease. She educates herself about every drug and procedure. She watches every thing she eats. She exercises, goes to cancer groups for support, she travels all over the country for different opinions... she wants to live.
I, on the other hand, watch her with envy. I wish a had a disease (other than depression) that could kill me. I have been hospitalized three times for suicide attempts. I do not want to do that to my children again. I can't even imagine how much damage I have caused to them by making them see me like that, by giving them the message that they are not worth living for.
But the thought of having a deadly disease or being in a fatal car accident or being struck down by lightening (which I should be for having these thoughts) is so appealing. I don't always feel this way. I go back and forth, back and forth between maintaining emotional stability and barely hanging on. I have been on this roller coaster ride my whole life. My first thoughts of suicide were when I was a very young child. I don't ever remember a time when the danger dance with depression was not a part of my life.
This past bout of being in "the pit" has lasted longer than any I have had in several years. I know if I hang on long enough it will pass. They always do...at some point. But I find myself praying to God (whoever that is) to please just let me let me done with it. I am so exhausted.
I have chronic migraines. I spend a lot of time in pain. I am on my fourth neurologist. I have done acupuncture, chiropractic, massage, physical therapy, meditation, nerve blocks, botox, drugs and drugs and drugs. Deep down I feel that my migraines will not stop until I have let out all of the shit I carry from my sexual abuse for which I have been in therapy for some 25 years. The pain and depression feel like a jail sentence that will only end when I die.
I have made lunch plans with a friend today. I am trying to feel better. I know that isolating is the very worst thing I can do. I will go have lunch and we will laugh and eat and I will feel pretty good. But then I will come home and I will be here again.
If my friend with cancer knew I was writing this I imagine that she would scream, "OMG! I would trade places with you for anything in the world!" I feel so ashamed of not valuing my life, for not being able to look at my children and say, "I would never, ever want to leave them." I feel guilty that my friend has cancer and I don't.
Maybe getting this out in open will help it to dissipate.
I feel so ashamed.
I, on the other hand, watch her with envy. I wish a had a disease (other than depression) that could kill me. I have been hospitalized three times for suicide attempts. I do not want to do that to my children again. I can't even imagine how much damage I have caused to them by making them see me like that, by giving them the message that they are not worth living for.
But the thought of having a deadly disease or being in a fatal car accident or being struck down by lightening (which I should be for having these thoughts) is so appealing. I don't always feel this way. I go back and forth, back and forth between maintaining emotional stability and barely hanging on. I have been on this roller coaster ride my whole life. My first thoughts of suicide were when I was a very young child. I don't ever remember a time when the danger dance with depression was not a part of my life.
This past bout of being in "the pit" has lasted longer than any I have had in several years. I know if I hang on long enough it will pass. They always do...at some point. But I find myself praying to God (whoever that is) to please just let me let me done with it. I am so exhausted.
I have chronic migraines. I spend a lot of time in pain. I am on my fourth neurologist. I have done acupuncture, chiropractic, massage, physical therapy, meditation, nerve blocks, botox, drugs and drugs and drugs. Deep down I feel that my migraines will not stop until I have let out all of the shit I carry from my sexual abuse for which I have been in therapy for some 25 years. The pain and depression feel like a jail sentence that will only end when I die.
I have made lunch plans with a friend today. I am trying to feel better. I know that isolating is the very worst thing I can do. I will go have lunch and we will laugh and eat and I will feel pretty good. But then I will come home and I will be here again.
If my friend with cancer knew I was writing this I imagine that she would scream, "OMG! I would trade places with you for anything in the world!" I feel so ashamed of not valuing my life, for not being able to look at my children and say, "I would never, ever want to leave them." I feel guilty that my friend has cancer and I don't.
Maybe getting this out in open will help it to dissipate.
I feel so ashamed.
