It’s easier at the end of the day to lie in bed and think of all the things I did wrong. It’s easy to think of the things that make me sad, bring the waves of shame and sometimes even make me wonder if I should call my Shrink again.
Tonight is one of those nights when even the medication hasn’t given me a reprieve from my thoughts and my negative self talk. I like here in this for myself of things I didn’t do today, all the things I should’ve done but didn’t do, all the things I did wrong, and sometimes, when I’m gonna particularly self damage-inflicting mood, I’ll jump on reddit and start reading all about what is wrong in the world so I can add global anxiety to my list of woes.
I know nothing good comes from this and I know that if I don’t get some sleep and wake up tomorrow at a decent time and actually accomplish some of the things I want to get done, I will start my old familiar cycle of depression; sleeping, binge eating, contemplating suicide and neglecting all personal hygiene and home cleanliness. And the stinkier I become and the more disordered and filthy my home, the faster I will cycle and the deeper I will become entrenched in the depression that threatens to end me.
Those who have never been suicidal can’t possibly understand the reality of actively contemplating and planning how to end life on a daily basis. I envy those people and their innocence. I would love to not be able to imagine having a day when I don’t have to remind myself that my suicide would haunt my children and my sisters. I would love to not have a plan already and to not have to talk myself out of it so often. I would love to live without wanting to die.
LogIcally I know that I have to find a way to love myself, accept myself and be proud of myself at the end of each day and within every given moment before I can heal my fractured mind and find hope for the days coming. Without this hope, there is no reason, no purpose in continuing on…no reason to keep trying. I’m very aware of the fact that the only thing that has kept me here so far is the knowledge that my taking myself out of this world would bring my children more hurt as a direct result of my own actions and choices… something they’ve had enough of in their lives. So I stay alive. But simply existing from day today, staying alive but not living, is just suicidal forbearance. It’s certainly not healing and it’s not hope.
So here I lie, medicated but not asleep and circling the drain of my depression. Tomorrow can be a different story. I know it can be because I’ve written that story over and over and over. I gone into the drain many times and I’ve plunged myself out each time so far…Finding the part of myself tells me I’m doing good and sets little accomplishable goals for me to help me pull myself out. “That’s it. Just brush your hair and teeth. You’ll feel better. Now drink some water and go sit in the sunshine for a little while.” That voice that finds me in the darkness, that has always been me talking to myself with words that didn’t feel like my own, that had always felt like a product of my own insanity coming to save me. Recently, though yet another integration therapy breakthrough, I discovered this voice is a part of me that is modeled after my grandmother… The woman who love me so well as I was growing up.
So maybe, before I go to sleep tonight, I’ll ask myself, “What would Grandmother tell me tonight to help me sleep and look forward to tomorrow?” And to that, that part of me who is her, responds,
“Sleep Little One. You have had such a great day! You finished a novel by one of your favorite authors. You stuck to your new intermittent fasting window and made good healthy food for yourself. You encouraged your son when he was needing it. You stayed off Netflix. You even took out your trash and you brushed your teeth! And now, you’ve even written a little story. I’m so proud of you and I can’t wait to go to sleep and wake up tomorrow and have another good day… maybe even sit in the sun for a little bit.”
So here’s to getting some good sleep and waking up with hope and positivity rather than shame and dread. Here’s to walking up with Grandmother’s legacy of love to guide me out of the spiral and back into life. I pray this to be true.
To be continued…