When I was about four years old my parents brought me to a daycare and left. I hated it there. I remember one time I crawled under a tabled and sobbed and the only thing I would say is "I want to go home" I still remember it vividly.
I didn't mean the house where I lived then, nor would I now-though it is closer to "home" than I have ever been.
"Home" for me, is a place of not only rest, but of ease-heart's ease-at the risk of sounding overly lyrical. The place where your inner self (be it soul, spirit or whatever you prefer to call it) sighs with relief. Where all the tension simply weeps out of you and soaks into the ground. Warmth and belonging and a sense of fullness and contentment. Without fear or anger or sorrow. That perfect moment when you're just waking up in the warmest of soft fluffy blankets on the world's most comfortable bed, while snow falls outside.
That is "home", for me, and yes, I want to "go home" too.
Life is fascinating and complicated and interesting but some times you just need a space of peace and comfort. We can still find it.
As for wanting to be dead; there's a difference between wanting it and planning for it. When it comes to suicide there are so many questions: what if it doesn't fix anything? What if it just takes you farther away? what if you fail and permanently harm yourself physically? what about the people left behind?...... the list goes on.
It is not an answer to anything. It's just another question, and one that's best put off as long as necessary.
I have a personal rule in life: Never make any permanent decisions unless you're absolutely certain. If there's even the tiniest doubt, don't do it. You can't get much more permanent than dead.
(spiritual beliefs aside)
I didn't mean the house where I lived then, nor would I now-though it is closer to "home" than I have ever been.
"Home" for me, is a place of not only rest, but of ease-heart's ease-at the risk of sounding overly lyrical. The place where your inner self (be it soul, spirit or whatever you prefer to call it) sighs with relief. Where all the tension simply weeps out of you and soaks into the ground. Warmth and belonging and a sense of fullness and contentment. Without fear or anger or sorrow. That perfect moment when you're just waking up in the warmest of soft fluffy blankets on the world's most comfortable bed, while snow falls outside.
That is "home", for me, and yes, I want to "go home" too.
Life is fascinating and complicated and interesting but some times you just need a space of peace and comfort. We can still find it.
As for wanting to be dead; there's a difference between wanting it and planning for it. When it comes to suicide there are so many questions: what if it doesn't fix anything? What if it just takes you farther away? what if you fail and permanently harm yourself physically? what about the people left behind?...... the list goes on.
It is not an answer to anything. It's just another question, and one that's best put off as long as necessary.
I have a personal rule in life: Never make any permanent decisions unless you're absolutely certain. If there's even the tiniest doubt, don't do it. You can't get much more permanent than dead.
(spiritual beliefs aside)
