a wish for emancipation

Three nights ago I drove down to the beach with every intention of killing myself. I had a little over an hour to think about it as I made my way there - to consider and plan and think. It was a cold night, and I knew that, being the Northern Atlantic, the water would be cold enough to numb my arms and hopefully numb the rest of me, as well. I stopped at the pharmacy near the beach to get sleeping pills and a box cutter. I got as far as the side of the road next to the parking lot of the beach.

I still wish I'd done it; I could say I don't know why I didn't, but I do know. Foremost, I don't want to leave behind debt that my family will have to take care of because my life insurance won't pay out if it's clearly suicide. Second, I don't want my family to know that I chose to end my own life. Third, Jacob figured out what I was intending and I couldn't - for whatever reason - go through with it with him trying to keep me from it in the only ways he had at his disposal.

Afterwards, on my way home - as drained as I was of all real energy - I took that failure out on him. I told him I hated him and I didn't care if he loved me, and it didn't matter to me that he cared about what happened to me. I meant every word. I still do, in a way.

I hate all of them, right now. I hate everyone who cares for me; their love tethers me to a life I don't want to live anymore.

I'm exhausted by the very thought of continuing to live. The roller coaster has lost its appeal - I'm tired of the lows, and the highs have turned sour, as well. I'm tired of waking up and being frustrated that I'm still here. I'm tired of medications that make me feel nauseous, keep me from sleeping, make my stomach hurt, give me headaches, make me dizzy, and don't seem to do anything else. I'm tired of multiple medications all in an effort to try to "stabilize" me. I'm tired of having nightmares three nights out of five for no reason whatsoever - dreams that make me wake up feeling more exhausted and sore than when I finally got to sleep. I'm tired of crying at least twice every single day. I'm tired of not knowing which emotions are real and which are "symptomatic" - they all feel real, however briefly. I'm tired of the fact that even when I'm up lately, I can't seem to feel anything resembling happiness. I laugh or sound chipper and act like things are fine - playing off the depth of what's happening - when I talk to people on the phone; I've ceased seeing anyone I care about because I can disguise it over the phone, but not face to face.

The thought of living another 30-70 more years like this not only exhausts me, it terrifies me, and causes me to breakdown. The thought of living another month like this does the same. I refuse to be honest with my family; I'm afraid they'd have me institutionalized, and if that were to happen, I would simply go over the edge - or more accurately off of this tiny ledge I landed on halfway down the cliff from where I did go over the edge.

I am most certainly a danger to myself; not an immediate one, I suppose. I spend a good portion of my time trying to figure out a way to die in a fashion that would not be deemed suspicious, and another portion of it contemplating the veins on my wrist and wishing I could just find someplace to go where I could...

The vast majority of the human experience is lived within our minds - what do we do when our minds shatter, and no amount of wishing will put them back together? When you've been fighting against your own mind for over 15 years, at what point is it acceptable to simply give in; to surrender? At what point will those left behind understand and accept and let you go? Understand it wasn't their fault, and that you loved them regardless, but that you couldn't continue fighting anymore. Accept that there was nothing they could do; they couldn't make it better or save you or cure you - no one could. Let go of the hurt and feelings of betrayal and sadness and loss and guilt - be happy that you're finally at peace, and find solace in that.

These days, the two questions I ask myself the most are, "How could I make this look accidental" and "How can I make them understand and find peace with the idea of me doing this?"

I have no good answer for the first, and no answer at all for the second.