Today Was Almost Tomorrow in Still Listening to Spirit

I have said many times and written it here too that the only thing that has saved me from suicide is the hope that tomorrow would be better. Each day comes and each day is today. So tomorrow never really arrives.

This worked well for drinking as well. I would say “Oh, I’ll have a drink tomorrow, I don’t need one today.”

Today while giving myself my shot of insulin, it came over me–today is the day. The thought that kept repeating in my head and I began saying outloud is “I don’t want to live like this any longer.”

I burst into tears and sobbed for 2 hours. No thoughts other than I don’t want to live. I want this over today.

I turned on the TV to the quilting and sewing shows I watch on PBS every Saturday and for about an hour and a half, I just stared at it with no thoughts at all.

At around 1pm I decided I might feel better if I went downstairs and took a shower. That works sometimes to set things right–clean and smelling good, the steam, etc. I stepped into the shower and let the water beat on my back.

I thought “I know how to do this, painlessly and properly. I can either inject a needle full of air into one of my main veins, or I could fill a syringe with insulin and administer it all.”

I began sobbing and crying again and spent a good bit of time getting clean and sobbing. I got out, I sobbed as I dried off and put my clothes on. I came out and sat down, Hub said something to me then turned around and rushed over to apologize for being so harsh and he didn’t mean to make me cry, etc.

I told him to go sit down and I would talk to him. I got out enough for him to understand why I was crying. Talking to him and explaining myself made it more clear that I had come to the day when I would suicide out. It was logical, it was clearly a way to end this pain.

I don’t know which is worse, the depression hopelessness or the continued stomach aches after I eat which are on the upper left side in front kinda under my breast. It hurts fiercely and nothing seems to make it better.

Bill was upset (of course) and I sobbed while he talked and I sobbed while he didn’t. He wanted me to go to the clinic–call the on-call provider, someone who doesn’t know me and has never seen me, no thanks. I know Carol is in Florida and Lynne is still on vacation. He wanted to call John. Nope. Bill asked “why not” and I said “because I think he is a moron.”

I decided I needed to go upstairs and take a nap. Maybe I could calm down and things would look different. Before I could get settled for a nap, Madame called crying and upset and wanting to know what is wrong with me. She made it sound like she just happened to call but I ‘knew’ Bill had called her.

We talked, we cried, I agreed to call her day or night if I needed anything. I agreed to once again put suicide off until tomorrow. Bill asks that we get through Sunday and I call the Clinic Monday for help. Gawd I don’t want to even think what the medical bills look like now. It doesn’t matter, I can’t go on like this. Maybe there’s nothing they can do for me except tell me to give the second anti-depressant more time to work.

I am crying again. It’s a good thing that this is not handwritten in ink on paper because it would be smeary and unreadable. I should delete this entry. But I don’t. This is my journal, my truth, my life, and I need to record this so I can look back to see what happened when I was this low.

Last updated October 26, 2014