content warning: suicidal ideation
If I want to kill myself so badly, why do I feel sad whenever I start to think about it or plan?
Only some guesses might suffice. Dying means leaving those I love behind to deal with my absence, though I’m not sure if guilt is the answer to the avoidance of suicide. I feel bad about lying to M why I started finding some of the snakes new homes and started talking about moving out… I was hoping it would be easier for everyone if I were to leave less of a trace behind after death. Though we really couldn’t have afforded to continue taking care of all five regardless.
I really just hate being poor and I cannot see a way out since getting fired. It feels like I’m going through the motions. I also feel like such a burden this last few weeks because rent is looming again. The election is also looming, and I’m afraid I might not be able to afford one of my meds as a result. One that (though just barely) kept me from jumping off the brink for nearly a decade so far. One that showed me maybe I could hang on with my nails instead of letting go.
I am so tired; truly both literally and figuratively. No doctor seems to know how to help me. General Doctor threw up his hands when I let him know that the wakefulness aid didn’t help. Sleep doctor alluded to something psychiatric. Psych med provider doesn’t seem to have an answer. Therapist doesn’t seem to know but can only guess. New General Doc says it could be any number of things - weight, ADHD, and depression among them. last I asked Therapist the answer she gave was about sleep hygiene - which I had followed quite routinely for a great deal (over a year consistently at a time) prior because I’d already googled the issue years ago. I even quit caffeine two months ago. I’m at my wits end myself, so it’s no wonder nobody else has an answer.
I’m also sick of finances all the time, 24/7 around the clock day and night, constantly and endlessly. Remorselessly and unceasingly without a break, this indigence and excess of penillessness is a deprivation of very psychological subsistence. To not worry constantly of food and shelter is a privilege I can only hardly fathom. I am at least so grateful that I have the privilege to worry. The tattered rug could be ripped away from beneath my feet at any moment, and I would not have much to stand on but the sand on this island I’ve been casted away to. It’s often been a problem since leaving my parents at 18, and we grew up fairly poor before that. I wasn’t the one worried about rent, bills, or food. After which I promptly managed to fail college roughly five times in succession while treading water working just to stay afloat.
If I were to end it, then all of these troubles would end as well. But I guess I should wait some more, since I can always die later. Maybe the new medicine will help put these thoughts under for almost another week again. Though the old thoughts keep coming back around on day 5 or 6 almost without fail. Will I have to continue this medicine (sometimes quite literally) ad-nauseum if I want permanent improvement? I’m sick of speculating, and the med provider doesn’t seem to have an adequate answer for me.
It’s possible that I’m throwing away a potential opportunity (quiet thought: but exactly how much potential? I’m worthless). Maybe I don’t want to die, deep down? Really I’m not certain, half the time, that I want death anymore since this medicine has been helping a bit with that reframe in my brain. I’m not sure how it works, but I’ve been ruminating around joining the void slightly less often now.
That relief of rumination alone is enough to give me a gentle few days of reprieve testing the new build before my legacy hardwired circuits begin again in their endless halting problem. It took Deep Thought 7.5 million years to come up with the answer, but I can scarcely come up with the question in my lifetime. Is that really the meaning of life? Is life worth living? Maybe it’s best to leave that calculation be, and just live instead. After all, is it worth not living? I often wonder why Sisyphus would ever bother wanting to cheat death, but maybe I’ll eventually see.
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