11179955_361657774024736_4313820776220130867_nI know for many people this is a touchy subject.  Hell, it’s a touchy subject for myself.  The reason you ask?  Because; I am one of the faces of suicide.  Well, attempted that is.

Man, that’s hard to say! And as I type this I become more and more scared to hit the update button at the end.  What will they think of me?  Everyone will know my “dirty” little secret.  How will they treat me?

Only those closest to me really know this side of me.  It’s not something you typically just share to everyone.  It’s just something that many can’t accept when they hear it.

It immediately makes people feel uncomfortable, sad, judgmental, angry, etc.  And frankly, saying it you don’t want to be judged because deep down you don’t WANT to really feel this way either.

Thoughts of suicide for me is like being an alcoholic.  No matter how much you try, no matter how happy you are, and how much you have those thoughts creep back into your mind and you just want it.  It’s like a drug.  You keep coming back for more even though you know it’s “bad”.

The thought soothes you.  It releases you.  It makes you feel free….. You are a bird.  Soaring in the sky with not a worry in the world anymore.  It feels like liberation.  Finally! Peace!  Everything has stopped.  Your mind is no longer racing.  You don’t have to feel like your a suffocating.  Life for you is finally passed.

I know many will never understand these feelings.  We are told they are not normal, not okay, and if we feel them we need help.  Maybe, we do? But it’s just not something you can so easily talk about.  I mean imagine talking with your friend:

Me: So hey, Liz…. so yeah, the other day I was imagining something just wrapping around my neck and OMG it felt so good.  Sometimes, I just sit and think about a gun to my head and it’s like I am thinking just do it already. Pull the trigger… I dare you!

Liz: OMG me too, I like so feel that way. It’s awesome right?

Yeah…. I just doesn’t happen that way.  In fact.  If I told most people the thought of dying makes me feel better.  That for me death isn’t some horrible scary thing but instead something  I look forward to you, well, you will get looks like you are the one with Ebola.

And the thing is, I get it!  I really do.

It’s not easy living a life where even when you are happy you are not really happy.  To constantly put on a fake face to please others. Because happiness makes others happy.  To feel like no matter how much you try it seems you are never enough.  It will never be enough.  So you just accept that and hold it in everyday.  You, despite how many times some motivational speaker has told you to look in a mirror and say you are enough, it doesn’t change that deep down you still don’t feel it.

I felt and sometimes almost still feel like the people in my life although, don’t take it the wrong way I love them.  But that the people in my life are punishment.  See, I use to hear all the time how much of a coward people are to kill themselves.  Apart of me thinks damn that’s brave.

I know that might sound odd to someone.  Brave? I don’t know the right word for it.  Maybe, “you got balls?”.  I don’t know.  But seriously.  Imagine purposely doing it… Ending YOUR life…. It’s not an easy task and let me tell you not for the cowards.

I still remember the first time I made an actual real attempt.  I was in my room with my best friend.  I took a whole bottle of some pills that my mom had and went to sleep.  Of course, little did I know these pills probably wouldn’t do the trick and well, I ended up just puking my head off the next morning.

My friend caught on to what I did.

I know many wouldn’t understand why.  The outsiders looking in would say it was because the boy I liked decided to break up with me and be with my best friend.  But the reality of it was that wasn’t really it.  I mean it was a piece.  But just a tiny one.

I was raised by my aunt and uncle after my mom who was an alcoholic gave me to her brother temporarily while she was suppose to get her self clean.  Long story short they became my life long parents.  I didn’t get along well with my I guess you could call her my “adoptive” mom.  In fact, when I told her that I tried to kill myself after that day she told me good, next time maybe you’ll do it.

My birth mom, she was a mess.  I had a few select friends who with the exception of just one.  I always wondered if they really liked me.  My life was constantly surrounded by self doubt.  And every person who came into my life, either didn’t want me, abused me, used me or left me.  I didn’t see why I should live a life of pain?  I didn’t want to constantly feel hurt. To be ashamed.  It felt like death was a way to finally have some damn peace for once.

Staying for me doesn’t feel brave, No, I feel like I am the coward.  I am the one who stays behind because I fear of hurting everyone else.  I fear of the pain it will cause my children, my husband, the few friends I hold dear and the select family I have.  I fear what it will do them, how it will make them feel and more so fear they would blame themselves. Hell, I fear this post for being judge, looked at or to look at someone I know who might read this and know… “They know my secret” and wonder “what do they think of me now?”

Out of fear I stay.  Because I don’t want to hurt them.  But it feels so messed up.  Because, I feel I have to stay for someone else’s happiness.  Because, me leaving makes you sad, I can’t go.  And if I do go, I am wrong.  But sometimes I think, what about you?  Why is it okay for me to be unhappy and I have to stay with you because YOU don’t want to be sad?  Isn’t that too a bit selfish?  You would rather that person be in pain than you feel pain?  I know maybe it doesn’t make sense, but it’s how my mind thinks sometimes.

See, I told you…. Most of you just won’t get it.

Because I can’t control how their lives would be effected by this outcome, I just can’t.  So I don’t.  Some days are better than others.  Some days I feel some what happy and others, I wonder…..  I wonder a lot.  Like many people.  My purpose.  Why?  Sometimes, I get upset with myself, and think of those who do have it worse.

I feel like my pain isn’t valid because it’s not “bad enough”.  Even though it feels bad enough for me and my heart.  I constantly feel like a failure and let me tell you what, being a mom sometimes does NOT help that feeling.  Just have a couple of teenagers and you will understand what I mean.

The thing is…. I don’t know HOW to be happy.  I think in some weird way it scares me.  IT’s foreign to me.  Like when people give me gifts and I have this half smile and I am like… thank… you…. in a hesitant way.

I think a lot about what their intentions are? Then I think of what I haven’t done?  Do I need to get a gift?  Was my gifts nice enough?  Should I hug them?  I don’t like to hug! Ugh, I am sure they want a hug?  Okay I will hug.  Man this is awkward.  Yep, they see this is awkward.  I am officially weird, and they look annoyed with me.  See……… this is why I hate gifts!

This is  my circle.  My life.  My trap.  My life feels like an endless trap. And I keep waiting.  I ride the bus hoping one day I can actually get off.  As much as I think I like the idea of being happy, I am not sure I really know what happiness is.  I am not sure I really know how to accept happiness and live with it?  That’s weird right?

I am sure I will get replies about counseling, therapy, getting “help”.  I have heard it all before.  It’s nothing new.  It will never stop those thoughts.  While, I am sure it might help.  It will be there.  It’s my sickness.  My curse.  It’s who I am.  IT’s me. This is me.

That’s the thing.  It’s not something people expect.  I am sure you are looking at the picture and you may not see this sad woman.  This woman who fantasizes about “the other side” on an almost daily basis but I do.  And frankly, I am not sure what I plan to get out of this post other than maybe someone else who can see it and think man, wow, I’m not alone?

Maybe, to show that we look like “normal” people.  We have jobs, kids, husbands, etc.  Maybe to show that there is more to it than just feeling blue?  There is no fake it til you make it because even while faking it, that thought will still pop in my head.  And I push it back down and tell it once again.  Not today…. Today I will live another day.  Maybe, to show the world who we are.  For some kind of understanding (If that’s even possible?).

Anyways, So that’s it me in the nut… Why I am been gone.  It’s just one of those times, phases that will pass for a moment.  Today, is a not today.  Tomorrow… well… It’s one day at a time.

NOTE: Please know, that while at times I have these thoughts I am *OK* I am not going to hurt myself, this isn’t a plea for help and please don’t call for assistance.  I don’t want my readers to worry.