Starting out this post with a bit of confusion (yay!) my husband's friend D, who still lives in Florida, has a girlfriend named Sammy. I've been getting to know her via World of Warcraft. The poor girl has a 5 year old son whom she lost when she went through her first bought of cancer. Because of all the drugs she had to go through for her Cancer treatments they labeled her an unfit parent and took her son away from her. she's had to fight cancer twice now.
She's very devoted to her boyfriend and he seems to be agrivated with her. I know where she is coming with as my husband and D are very similar in some regards. She's currently in a lot of pain and add to that her stressful situation with her boyfriend and living situation and I understand the depression she is going through. and I told her as much on facebook. but... her current issue's brought to the fore memories of when I lived in Florida... in that backroom of my father in law's douplex... little better than a closet... our matress on the floor barely fit in the room. and we were forced to share the room with these giant peices of furniture that were completly useless to us. and thanks to the pot heads that lived in the living room on the sleeper couch (Which they almost always had out and took up almost the entire living room with.) They played music and watched tv with the sound turned up all the way at all times of the day and night. I would ask them to turn it down and instead they would turn it up even more. Then I'm allergic to ciggerette smoke... I have coughing attacks and get dizzy and light headed when I have to inhale the stuff. They would NEVER smoke it outside or leave a bloody window or door open.
*deep breath* then there was also Art... he at least smoked outside... but that was about it. He stole from us. used our shit all the time as if it was his. left half finished plates of food out littered all over the place for the roaches to get to. he would never take care of my father in laws dog... oh right... and the dog. I can't STAND living with dogs! ... maybe it's only because I have yet to live in a house with an actually BEHAVED dog. one with training and obedience... and the knowledge to not poop or pee inside the house. I don't like dogs. sorry... I just... DON'T. they want more attention than I can give them. It's why I prefer cats. They need less attention and they are so much better behaved when it comes to peeing or pooping in a kitty litter box.
anyways... getting off subject.
I know I'm in a bad place when I wish that I hadn't failed at committing suicide. Also that's the reason there is a hole in the backroom where I'd used to live. When Mike woke up realizing there was something wrong and I wasn't telling him he got so angry that he punched a hole in the wall... that scared me into telling him what I'd done. Taken a bottle of sleeping pills (I still wish I'd taken the entire bottle sometimes.) when he took me to the hospital he and the people there tried to keep me awake as they tested my blood to see if I'd be okay... saddly I hadn't taken enough pills to kill myself. (God damn it!) they constantly asked me if I'd tried to kill myself... I was so embaresed I didn't want to admit that I had... but I had... I'd taken them with full intention of falling asleep and never waking up again...
At the time I'd slept more than 12 hours a day... and when I was awake I just stared at the ceiling wishing I'd die... and other times I would wish that I could cut Kenny and Tina's throats while they slept... because then I wouldn't be harrassed by them anymore and wouldn't be in that stressfull living situation... of course then my mind would remind me that I would get found out and go to jail and that would be a MUCH more stressful living situation. I would think through everything before I decided to do anything... it's why as a child I never ran away from home though I'd wanted to on several occasions. I would think about all the possible scenario's and how it wouldn't be a good idea and so I would nix that idea.
Well I had also thought fully into suicide... falling asleep and never waking up would be painless and I wouldn't go through constant strougle and fight for life anymore... this pointless strougle to live... there isn't even almost enough reasons to strougle to live... *sigh* I still think that now sometimes... with my husband still not having a job... and his unemployment running out at the end of the month. There really aren't very many people who would miss my passing. If I could make it look like an accident and not suicide my parents would get money from my life insurance. they'd give some to my husband. and... well everyone would be better off if I was dead. It might be that my son would get taken into child protective services if I died because my husband has no job and no where to keep Scott.
If it got to that point I know that Jamie and my parents would try to find a way for one of them to become Scott's legal guardians so that he wouldn't get taken away from their lives entirely. Getting pregnant was part of the reason I had tried to stop killing myself because I wasn't going to murder my child even if it meant getting me out of my own personal hell.
I guess I'm seriously messed up... I was diagnosed by a physician once... some one had been worried about me and florida state services sent by a professional with his assistant and they sat down outside and talked with me about how I'd been feeling... if I'd been wanting to kill anyone else... my son... or myself... and at the end they told me that I wasn't a danger to anyone else so they couldn't force me to go to the physce ward but they highly suggested that I go in... I'd be there for at least 3 days... I still regret not going... because maybe they could have helped... but I didn't want to leave my husband home alone with our newborn son while I went to the hospital to seek help...
Maybe when Mike gets a job... I should go into the hospital and check myself in... *deep sigh* ... I still really need help... because... I really wish I was dead. I'm not so far along that I want to actually kill myself... but last night I thought about how funny it would be that after my sister went through Intercranial hypertension... (She still does it's incurable) that I would have a brain tumor and die of it... part of the reason I don't really try very hard to get myself to see a doctor is because... I don't care if I die. I don't care if I have a brain tumor and die... in fact I WISH I DID have a brain tumor... or some other incurable disease...
My husband is desperatly afraid of death... so he never likes hearing me talk to him about my depression or wish for death... he doesn't understand it or how to help me with it... he just wants to ignore it and pretend that it'll go away... sadly it doesn't go away... at times it calms down but it's still always there...
*sigh* ... yes... I still wish I was dead... sometimes my wish is stronger than others... and some nights I pray to god and beg him to kill me... or that I was never alive... because honestly... I see no reason for why I am alive. I don't see how I am remotely important or how me being alive is helpful... there are so many people out there that want to be alive and want to live... why can't I some how give up my life to give them their wish and they could give me mine...
it just isn't fair.
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