An empty space….

Mental health… everyone seems to be talking about it just lately. It’s on the news, in adverts, all over the Web. You’ll find something about it in every place you can think of. We’re encouraged to talk about. It’s on the rise in all age groups. All ethnicities and it doesn’t care where or how you live. We’re encouraged to talk about it.

I don’t want to talk about it. Or more specifically, I don’t want to admit just how bad things have got. Last tear I could still wing it. Last year yeah, it was bad. It’s an endless yoyo a constant battle but I could function.

This year has been worse… this year I got talked out of commiting suicide, I had everything ready, no going back(thanks M). Now I think about suicide at least once a week. My brain thinks about the perfect way to do it with no comebacks but so that I’m not in anyone’s way or so that I make a mess(like going by train or taking a dive off something). I’m telling you, planning a murder is easier, and I planned one!(for a story!!). Every for every step I take forward? I either take as many or more backwards. This year I’m tired of fighting the darkness. I’m 41years old and ok I definitely don’t act it(adulting is a trap!), shit… 41years old and my whole life has been spent fighting something I can’t even see.

This year its changed too… I dread going out. Just the thought makes my skin crawl. And I’m trying so hard to still do it. Do 1 thing every day that scares you. And people? I’ve never really done people. People are the scariest things on earth. But now? I’d rather do anything than have to be around or near people. People are NOT safe. I guess if your reading this? You mind jumped to covid. Nope your wrong. When I say not safe? I mean because people hurt you. I don’t want to be hurt any more. My thinking is that it’s best to just give up on people but that’s where it’s tricky because naturally I want to help others. …sigh… I’m tired of getting hurt. I’m tired of being proved right that if you let someone in? They’ll hurt you. Me? Even when I’m completely falling apart? I will never ask for help. That’s not my way. I could be crumbling and still crawl on and you won’t know.

Why am I writing? I don’t even know at this point… I just am. My rules for my blog come back to me every time I hit the WordPress app icon on my phone… always be truthful. This space is yours. Your 1 safe place. A place no one can judge you or if they do? Who cares? It’s not your neighbour(either of them), no one that follows you lives on your street. This is as the blog says, an empty space. A space for you to write your mind out. So here I am. Having spent the last few days having episodes of crying so hard I’m throwing up and walking around with the headache from hell and muscle cramps(probably from the crying,throwing up and lack of liquid intake). But right here right now I’ve got a cup of chamomile tea which is cold and I’ve still only drunk half despite going and zapping it twice. Here I am still outwardly holding my shit together and hiding how I feel from the entire house. Why? Because in this house I have no choice, I have to be the strong one.

Right now I despise myself. I know that I’m a let down hiding in plain sight. I have judged myself and know that I am less. I know that this world really would be a better place if I had never been brought into this world. But at the same Time? There’s this ridiculously stupid dumb part of me that says that these feelings are because of the darkness and why do I let it win? I don’t let it win. I just don’t want to be afraid anymore. I don’t want to be alone anymore. I need a fucking hug and for someone to tell and to mean it when they say they are there for me and that I mean something to them. I need to feel loved. But I need to believe its true. The only one I ever believe cares and is there for me is the darkness. Depression gives the tightest hugs and I just want a hug. Depression will always stand beside me. In a fucked up way? It never leaves and I that there? That is what I need. I need someone who won’t leave because everybody leaves because in my fears I push them all away and let nobody in. But Depression doesn’t listen. It’s always here and envelopes me in its hugs washing me in darkness.

I know I have a problem. But admitting and knowing are two very different things.

…sigh… for today I give up…