I have myself on personal suicide watch. I know. Call the doctor. What the fuck is she going to do anyway? I don't intend to tell anyone around me either because it's pointless to do so. I just can't hack the stress anymore. Duh.
This whole year has been leading up to me going in just such a direction.
Getting out the Army.
No babies.
Living with my mom.
Now thousands in possible truck repairs a month before moving; which means selling our car and that doesn't even cover our costs. We need two cars.
Not knowing if we'll have an advance before we leave.
Losing my health insurance and medication.
My marriage slowly going to shit.
My husband telling me to get over it and stop being negative. And the new, "I don't want to hear it, so don't say anything.". That one stung a tiny bit.
I'm a mess folks. I want nothing more then to be done. I don't want a part in any of this life. I don't want to try anymore to find some fucking light at the end of the tunnel. You find some silver lining in this bullshit. There isn't one. There hasn't been one.
Do I have to be the goddamn loser at every corner? I get it. I'm a horrible fucking person or something. Karma bites people in the ass. Can karma just leave me the fuck alone now? Please?
I am holding back from just openly sobbing. I'll probably have to go hide in the bathroom to compose myself when he gets home for lunch. Of everyone, he's likely to be the least inclined to want to deal with me anyway. Me and my bitching and whining and making things seem worse then they are.
Damn me and my bipolar. How fucking dare I say anything. Shut my fucking mouth already. (He did not say those things; maybe he's thinking them.) If only he knew what solution I wanted to use to make that happen.
Anyone want five minutes in my head? Anyone? Me either. I don't want any more minutes in my head. I'm sick of the self-inflicted pain and suffering and torture.
And I am hating myself so much right now because my babies are at school. But I sit here reminding myself how good their lives would be if I wasn't always the fuck up. They could have it all folks. Instead, they have me.
I'll still be here tomorrow. No gun equals life. I don't have pills that will kill me; I don't think. No point in just making myself an inpatient psych case after getting my stomach pumped. I can't get a car parked in the garage. And I'd pass out long before I could ever get myself cut enough to bleed out. Nope, haven't been thinking about this at all.
I'm not asking you for help folks. I'm just telling you what it is. This isn't a good-bye. I just wish it was.
I was diagnosed with bi-polar disorder when I was 17. I've been where you are... a lot of times... I've never been on medication because I hate taking medication. I fight with myself a lot on the inside and sometimes on the outside. I'm not going to tell you there is a light at the end of your tunnel or try to blow sunshine and rainbows up your ass. You know what works for you to get you out of the funk. Do it. Do it fast. If you have to sell the car so that's one less thing to worry about. Sell it. Even if you end up having to pay a little to get out of a loan, that is one less thing that's going to make your nerves crazy. It's ok to feel like you don't know which end is up... but you need to start getting rid of things that make you feel crazy.
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