trigger warning – I don’t think I need to state the obvious
I have wrestled with publishing this post. But this is my current reality, so post it must be. I must stress, it’s content holds no intent, but merely serves to reason why. To be clear, I take the subject of suicide very seriously. Would never throw the word about lightly because my mother killed herself many years ago. I know what it feels like to be one of the grieving left behind. So, why would I choose suicide? Three reasons.
I live on an extremely tight budget with a salary that often doesn’t cover my basic living expenses. So I scrimp and scrape and do without and make a plan. But there’s no ‘wriggle room’. No extra money for unforseen expenses (car breaks down, fridge goes on the blink), or everyday conveniences like TV, or for a few treats here and there like the hairdresser or going to see a movie, new clothes. And with inflation, it’s only going to get worse. I’ve done the calculations, and I project in about 5 years time, I will not be able to afford to live. Seriously. Time is working against me. Basically I’m fucked, and not in a good way.
2. I am alone
Not lonely… there is a difference. What I mean is, I stand alone in this world. I’m not going to add a long explanation to prove my point. Please, just believe me. No family, no friends, no pets. Zero. Nothing. No one beside me, no one leading the way, no one bringing up the rear or having my back. No support, no buffer, no anchor, no comfort against the world. And after my last interpersonal experience, well I doubt I shall be walking that path again. So I guess, alone it shall remain.
3. Early symptoms of psychosis
Yes, got that nifty little diagnosis in October 2015. Yay. I’m really looking forward to experiencing full blown psychosis on my own. I know it can be delayed with the right medication, but psychosis? You gotta be shitting me. So reality check – my health is deteriorating. What’s next? Institutionalistion? Oh, I shit you not. I am, after all, walking in my mother’s genetic shoes prints.
I have worked so hard these past four years toward healing, growing and learning from my experiences. Moving from beyond a failed marriage to an alcoholic and the abuse that comes as a package deal, to dealing with my bipolar. I’ve been proactive and accountable. I’ve shown up for life. I have grabbed a hold of hope with both hands and not let go.
But for what purpose? What gain? All I have is fear. From my perspective (which I think is a reasonable one), the future is only going to get worse. And I’m so, so very tired of a daily existence. And that is why, of late, I entertain death. I’m frightened, I’m alone and I’ve lost hope in having a future, let alone a bright one. I don’t think it gets more valid than that.