I’m Trying

I’ve been searching the keyword suicide all day today. I have read several posts of people struggling to get through after the suicide of a loved one.

I am trying to change my mindset. I feel that my kids would be better off without me. But deep down after reading these blogs I realize their pain would only just begin.

Thank you for sharing your stories.




I’ve gained 75 pounds in less than a year due to medication and hospitalization. I’ve decided that since I want to die anyways I’m not eating starting tomorrow. I’m sure the hospital I’m in will have something to I about it but how the hell can they force me to eat? I’m going to die one way or another, let’s just speed up the process.

The Halls I Walk


I’ve walked these halls so many times before. Stared out these same windows wishing to be on the other side. More than that I wish to have a normal life. People will tell me ‘there is no normal’, however, I know that I am abnormal. Only .01% of Americans commit suicide every year.  Those that make an attempt is .02%. Those numbers are so unbelievably small, it is abnormal to commit/try to commit suicide.  I am abnormal. 

I’m tired of the therapies; CBT, DBT, EMDR, sand therapy, talk therapy.  None of it does anything but wear me out like I wear out the carpet walking these halls every day.  I’m worn.  I’m exhausted.   Nothing has worked in the past 30 years so why would I have hope that it will work now? Like the gum in the carpet that keeps getting stepped on, I’m stuck.

So where do I go from here? Honestly the only option I see for myself is still suicide.  I can’t handle life. I didn’t ‘adult’ the right way. Hell, I wasn’t even born the right way. But I’ll do what they tell me to do. I’ll take the meds, go to the IRTS (which us a three month placement as a transition from hospital to home) go to therapy, and for what? I’m not really sure yet. When I get home only time will tell whether I try to escape again or not, or whether I’ll end up, once again, walking the halls.

I Killed Myself

On January 30th I hung myself. I died. I was dead. I was resuscitated. And I wish I wasn’t. It was peaceful. More peaceful than sleep.

Needless to say I have been in the hospital since. I have been on one to one observations since going in. At first I was at a regular hospital in ICU, then transferred to the psych unit, and finally to a state run psych hospital. I will be here for a long time.

They are looking to send me to another IRTS. If you’ve read my blog you will know that I was in one July through November just last year. And the year before.

I’m tired. I’m tired emotionally, physically, psychologically. I don’t want to fight anymore. What is wrong with that? Why don’t I have the choice? Why do I keep getting locked away?? I’m tired.

I Tried

So I went into ER tonight for a migraine and cough I’ve had for a month. In the process I told the doctor I just didn’t want to wake up in the mornings anymore because of my anxiety and depression. She didn’t respond. So when a nurse came in I asked her if I could have a psych consult. She responded by telling me that’s for crisis situations and left the room.

I admittedly haven’t been taking my meds and have stored them up for the overdose occasion. I felt really let down at the doctors lack of action. I guess it’s like fuck it if they don’t care why the fuck should I.

As the doctor was discharging me she finally asked if I felt like hurting myself. I was already defeated. I already made up my mind and just told her no.

Do you know how much courage it took me to even ask for a psych consult?? Fuck it. I’ll choose my own fate.

Odd One Out

I struggle with very high anxiety. The fact that I have 4 very loud children only makes it worse. I enjoy the very few moments of silence when the younger ones are in school and the oldest sleeps in or is attending classes at college. Most often during these times I sit in complete silence. No tv, no radio, nothing but my thoughts to occupy me.

Most of the time the TV is turned on by my oldest daughter, usually louder than I would like it but I let it happen. I have two children who love music, so one is sitting around singing aloud and the other is on the computer jamming out to YouTube. My other child is a gamer who is constantly screaming at his call of duty game. Take all of this and cram it into our tiny (800 sq. ft. tiny) townhouse and perhaps you can imagine. My anxiety is through the roof but I don’t want my problems to interfere with their fun. I do on occasion ask everyone to turn things down a bit or sing a little softer, but not often.

What upsets me on days like today is that while in a car ride with my 15 year old daughter and her father  (we are divorced) my daughter wanted me to listen to a song. Then father chimes in and says ‘oh I have a song for you to listen to as well’. I asked if we could just have a quiet car ride. (I’ve been sleeping terribly at night and my attempts to nap during the day have failed due to my anxiety. I’m utterly exhausted.) The response I got was upsetting. The kids father knows that a lot of noise bothers me. Instead of respecting that he asks rudely in front of my daughter, “why do you want it quiet ALL the time?’ And then he says, “fine on the drive back we’re going to sit in complete silence just so you’re happy”. And it’s not only what  he said but the way he said it.

It’s all just a reminder that I’m the one who’s fucked in the head. I’m the one who can’t handle life. I just want to crawl in bed and tune everything out. I want to fall asleep and never wake up.



I want to write daily, however I feel I have nothing to say. I get the kids off to school in the morning and typically go back to bed until noon. Then I either clean or sit on my phone until they get home. After that it’s sitting around visiting with them, dinner, tv, and into bed. The kids are very happy and content with life. To me it feels like the same thing day after day and I don’t even have the motivation to change anything. I just feel so ‘blah’. All the time. Even when I do have something to write about, I find myself feeling too blah to give a shit. Just blah.