Reasons and Purposes

Depression/The Blues

I saw this post today on a website about depression:

I don’t need a reason to kill myself. I need a reason NOT to.

I could die at any moment; the tragedy is that I don’t.

That scared the shit out of me. Not for the person who wrote it, whom I sincerely hope is still alive.

But for myself.

I know that feeling. I’ve been there.

And I feel myself treading dangerously close to that path once again.

That first line says it all. When you get to that point, the point at which you feel you need a reason NOT to kill yourself, you are in dangerous territory, my friend.

All along my kids have been sitting on the line I would not cross. They defined the line, they were the reason not to go there.

And then I got to the point where it was, hey, maybe they are EXACTLY the reason to go there! Maybe I am so fucked up that they would be better off learning how to live normally without me than they would be trying to live with the constant vicissitudes of my bullshit life and feelings.

But I still believe – right now – that the children of suicides suffer. They think they are at fault. They think they weren’t loved. They become more prone to doing the same damn shit when THEY get older.

I do not want to do that to my kids.

I do not want to do that to my kids.

I DO NOT WANT TO DO THAT TO MY KIDS.

But today, I need help, and I don’t know if it’s knowing that I’m going to the doctor this afternoon for this very reason that is making me an emotional wreck, but I cannot stop crying, I cannot stop panicking, I cannot stop feeling that far from being useful and wanted, I am just an emotional and wasteful drain on everyone around me, that those closest to me willingly put up with me and my issues and yet receive so little in return besides more problems, and that I am somehow actually damaging my kids by keeping them in this environment, the miasma of my depression.

I’ve taken my last Ativan, I’ve opened a bottle of wine, and what is next?

I don’t know.

I don’t know what is next for me anymore. A descent into madness?

I am hoping that there will be some magical formula that will help me to deal with life and help me to put one foot in front of the other again and function happily, instead of just barely functioning.

Just… barely…  functioning.

I hide it well at times. But I am just barely functioning. I do not know what my purpose is beyond trying to take care of my kids and get them into good schools and take care of my grandmother to the best of my limited ability while she is still here.

Beyond that…what?

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