Bunni'sLullaby
iterum occurremus ultra saturni circulis
- Dec 3, 2023
- 33
[Excuse the rant]. The grief is too much. Every second, minute, hour, day, week, month. I've been fighting for hours not to relapse, to self-harm. I've determined the perfect method over the months, after years of doing it on and off. Something clicked, wanting to die no later than my late husband's birthday in a few months. The only things keeping me alive anymore is SI and guilt, such as his sister telling me that if I died—she doesn't believe she could go on either. That's helped for awhile. I guess it helps now.
But, why? Why be miserable for the sake of others? Why keep wasting your days in self-destruction, anxiety, depression, fear, and posttraumatic stress syndrome for the sake of other people? I don't want my loved ones to go through this, to be where I am. This feels like the cause for human combustion; you're constantly burning from the inside out until it consumed you. In my studies, I've come to recognize that suicide bereavement is qualitatively different from any other type of grief. That suicidal ideation is "normal." But, why should he die and I live? It feels wrong. I feel there is no purpose, meaning to anything. I feel no true happiness, no excitement. I feel like a liar to make plans for the future when I don't really want it to happen. I have felt like this for a long time; always waiting and hoping for things to get better and they never do. They always get worse.
I have letters that I had written out months ago; I've thought of rewriting them to include things I know people will need. I've been with my job for over 2yrs, so there should be no issue with payout regarding life insurance. I've planned how, where, when. Everything. I would prefer SN or N or something like that, but I have no access. Given where I live (US), a gun would be easy, go like my husband did. I've been stuck on a .357 ever since I heard it goes through a person like butter. I won't make my loved ones experience what I did—to find someone you care about and do what you can to try and save them; only to fail. I won't do that.
I feel like this has shown me how much guilt I feel for wanting to drink, wanting to cut, wanting to die. But, it's also shown me what not to do if you do it. I just don't know how much more I can take. I'm sick of people thinking I'm "strong" and doing "great" when all I want to do is stop breathing, my heart to stop beating, to stop feeling and thinking. I feel like I'm practically on my knees begging for it to happen, for my family to have something to blame OR to finally get the courage to just do it myself.
But, why? Why be miserable for the sake of others? Why keep wasting your days in self-destruction, anxiety, depression, fear, and posttraumatic stress syndrome for the sake of other people? I don't want my loved ones to go through this, to be where I am. This feels like the cause for human combustion; you're constantly burning from the inside out until it consumed you. In my studies, I've come to recognize that suicide bereavement is qualitatively different from any other type of grief. That suicidal ideation is "normal." But, why should he die and I live? It feels wrong. I feel there is no purpose, meaning to anything. I feel no true happiness, no excitement. I feel like a liar to make plans for the future when I don't really want it to happen. I have felt like this for a long time; always waiting and hoping for things to get better and they never do. They always get worse.
I have letters that I had written out months ago; I've thought of rewriting them to include things I know people will need. I've been with my job for over 2yrs, so there should be no issue with payout regarding life insurance. I've planned how, where, when. Everything. I would prefer SN or N or something like that, but I have no access. Given where I live (US), a gun would be easy, go like my husband did. I've been stuck on a .357 ever since I heard it goes through a person like butter. I won't make my loved ones experience what I did—to find someone you care about and do what you can to try and save them; only to fail. I won't do that.
I feel like this has shown me how much guilt I feel for wanting to drink, wanting to cut, wanting to die. But, it's also shown me what not to do if you do it. I just don't know how much more I can take. I'm sick of people thinking I'm "strong" and doing "great" when all I want to do is stop breathing, my heart to stop beating, to stop feeling and thinking. I feel like I'm practically on my knees begging for it to happen, for my family to have something to blame OR to finally get the courage to just do it myself.
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