Written words have been my language of choice. For goodness’ sake, I would ******* read the dictionary for entertainment. Now, here I am, lost and cut off from one more thing that had once brought me joy and comfort. I am being stripped apart piece by piece. There already is so little left of "me." who am I? I have come to hate those grotesque phrases that are constantly being thrown around.
your TRUE self
your HIGHER self
your AUTHENTIC self
They are presented in such a way that are meant to inspire and direct you...a destination to arrive at. I don't like them because I have no understanding or definition of what they mean to me. I don't know how to relate to any part of those titles. What is "true?" What is "higher?" What is "authentic?"
I feel sick to my stomach...nauseous...bitter, rancid taste in my mouth. I’m choking on every word that goes unspoken. I’m exhausted from the fruitless efforts of trying to explain what this feels like...trying to extract understanding from someone who does not relate to the adjectives that I spill out...this is not their vocabulary. We are all left feeling disappointed.
The experience, of this wretched depression, creates an urgency to decode the mystery of its origins. What am I supposed to do? How will I know if I’m on the right track? Will there be a glorious shedding of light coming down from the heavens...illuminating the darkness and breaking the shackles from decades of imprisonment? Every day when I awaken, I’m hoping for the great revelation. Instead, I find myself, once again, wading through the muck and mud…the stories from my past…they tell me everything and nothing. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?!
I am here. But why am I here? What is the actual point to my existence? How is anyone supposed to carry on this way? There is great shame in feeling this way. As so many people, facing serious illness, tragedy, and uncertainty fight to hold on to life…here I am, romanticizing the end of my own suffering in the most permanent way possible.
False bravado…easy to think about “that” when I know that I cannot, will not exchange my release from this suffering, only to impose it on to the only people I love the most…my children.
Oh, how I long to be saved. To have someone pull me up from the ground. To hold me and reassure me that it will not always be this way. Someone to show me the way…with full confidence that there is an answer and solution to end this pain…to be free from the dark night of my soul.
What if the truth of all my dramatic bellowing isn’t so much that I want to die…I just don’t want to have to live like this?
I just can't take it anymore, everytime I think of suicide I see my son's face
Trapped in my own head 
I need to express this *possible trigger warning*
Hard to admit it because I was doing so well but I am becoming more and more depressed 
Constantly Crying and Overwhelmed 
