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Happy birthday

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419can.dance

Confident
June 25th. Five years ago I gave birth to a beautiful blue eyed sleeping baby girl. Too precious to keep in Earth.

I am struggling today. I want to leave this place and see what’s next. Is my baby girl waiting for me? Why can’t I be happy in the next life and not have it considered suicide from mental illness. Do you ever just have a day where you wander. What’s next? I have lived life. Don’t care to live any longer. What’s the chance I get to hold me baby girl when this life is over? I look forward to that day.
 
I'm so sorry. And I understand. I had a stillborn baby daughter also. I understand your hurt and your questions. Life has no guarantees, and neither does death. I really hope you have now, or are getting help with the kind of grief this is... it's different, and I know for me, there was a lot of self blame.

Sending lots of healing prayers your way. Thank you for sharing your pain today. I and others here will help you carry the heartache. Gentle hugs if you accept.
 
My daughter would be 19 this year.
Do you ever just have a day where you wander. What’s next? I have lived life. Don’t care to live any longer.
Those used to be the days I tried to off myself, in my own way of trying to get myself killed doing something useful, exceptionally dangerous, but useful. Once I learned that not being able to imagine a life worth living, only meant that I was about to be very surprised at what came next (reasons to live, and love life, that I never could have imagined)... I stopped trying to die. No matter how much I wanted to.

Then they became the fatalistic days, where I simply stopped what I was doing and boarded the next train/plane/boat to anywhere. Walking away from my life with the clothes I had on my back, and nothing else. I was done here. So, clearly, I needed to be elsewhere. I can’t even begin to count the number of apartments/flats/homes, jobs, friends, lovers, belongings, everything... that I left in my wake. Because it had become a rule. Before I was allowed to kill myself? First I had to change everything. If I wasn’t willing to? Too bad! Because I’d lose all of those things if I died. So if I wasn’t willing to nuke my life, I wasn’t allowed to stop living it.

Eventually, that shifted, again. I learned that no matter how strongly I felt about it in the moment, more often than not, I had a time limit of about 6 months max that I’d feel this way. Far more commonly? A few days, or a few weeks. At the end of which I’d want the life I walked away from back. 6 weeks? Isn’t forever. 6 weeks is a vacation. So I started taking those. More, I started planning those, over days and weeks I knew would be hard... as well as just as I felt like it. Meaning I set my life up to be able to handle my pulling a Houdini on it.

So, yeah. I’ve had days like that.

And, maybe more importantly, days after.
 
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