exhausted from being tired

exhausted from being tired

It’s another night of pain so of course I am up. I am so tired and exhausted from fighting pain all the damn time. You think I would be able to sleep. Lately, I have been taking my pain meds with coffee to fight off the drowsiness effect of the pills. I do this to avoid sleeping all day but then I have nights, like tonight, where I can’t sleep.

I have been thinking more about my plan. I have been crying most of the night because I know I will be hurting everyone around me and then some. I keep having this argument in my head of what my therapy session will be like tomorrow. I told my therapist in a text I was done. That things were over. I was half expecting a response but I didn’t get one. Then I texted her that I would have cancelled session but it was too late to do so. I told her I might not be in the mood to talk, pretty much like I was today.

I don’t really know when I will go through with my plan. I know it’s not going to be this week because it’s too damn hot. I want the weather to be cooler as the place that I have chosen is outdoors. I thought about writing a will tonight but I was too tearful. All day I have been tearful, which is weird because it takes so much for me to cry. I guess the pain has finally broken me down.

My sister texted me earlier about a party they are having for my uncle. I guess she was inviting me to go. But I hate going over there because that means an all day affair and I really don’t want to spend more than a couple of hours at my cousins. I will just be bored. I can be bored at home. Besides, more than a few hours sitting or standing for any length of time always brings me more pain in my leg. Sorry Uncle Bob but I can’t see you because my pain is too great. Just another reason for me to off myself.

I kind of feel like I should hang around till after the election to find out who will win. Trump made a huge blunder today and his supporters are all covering for him saying “he didn’t mean it that way”. Like hell he didn’t. Then he tweeted saying “what he meant to say”, which made no fucking sense. It was an outright lie. Yet he has the audacity to call Clinton a liar. My vote won’t count because I’ll be fucking dead. I know I definitely don’t want to be around for the shitshow when the baby loses nor be around should he win. The country will be going to hell and war. Such a sad state of affairs and then they wonder why the suicide rate is so high. I think there was another suicide tonight on the red line. There was a medical emergency that called for shuttle bus services so I can only guess there was a jumper.

It’s a strange feeling when you have the power to end your life whenever you want to. I know that I could go to the hospital but for what exactly? Hospitals haven’t exactly proven to save lives, not when it comes to suicide anyway. They usually precipitate a suicide. The only regret that I have is that I won’t be finishing my reading challenge for the year. I was so looking forward to reading at least 40 books this year and unless I spend every waking moment reading in the next few weeks, I just don’t see it happening. I have 25 books to go. I have no idea what will become of the books I do have. Some of them are brand spanking new. I suppose they can be donated to the library. I know that my suicide books I want donated to my therapist. She should have a suicide library. It won’t be doing me any good anymore.

I keep thinking about how to tell my psychiatrist goodbye. That is going to be tough and tricky. I have known her longer than I have known my therapist. I have written her multiple goodbye letters over the course of my suicidality. I never once gave her any of them. The last email that I sent her that was sort of a goodbye she sectioned me so I have been cautious about giving her letters such as these. I give too soon and I could be found and hospitalized against my will.

I have noticed a pattern over the years. Every year between August through October I become wicked suicidal, more so than at any other time of year. It has been going on since I was a teenager. Back then, you could expect to be admitted for months. Now you are lucky to be admitted for more than a week. This time, I am not going to be admitted, I am just going to follow through with my ideas. I am tired of living. I am tired of being in severe physical pain. I am too complex to be taken seriously by my practitioners. My therapist said with bated breath today that she loved me. I could tell it wasn’t really true because she really hesitated before saying it. It was like she had to prepare herself to say it quickly so to get it out of the way. I will miss her. I know my death will destroy her but I can’t help that. I tried to get her to get rid of me years ago but she still held on. It’s her fault it will hurt. I told her she could leave at any stage of the game. Now the game is over, I’m afraid. Stalemate.

About G. Collerone

suicide attempt survivor writing about the hopelessness that accompanies depression that no one likes to talk about. also writing about my daily struggle with chronic pain and how it affects my suicidality
This entry was posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders, suicide and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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