Gone Girl

A note from over a year ago that reminds me to be grateful for today. Today, I’m stable. Today, I am blessed. Today, I’m on a smooth patch of a sometimes treacherous path. So, if you’re in the darkness today, please know that it will get brighter. Look for the cracks in the foundation where the light is fighting to get through to you. Don’t give up.

Some people wait for their children to grow so that they can end their marriage. They go through each day yearning for the grad party to end so that they can deliver divorce papers.

Others wait for that day so they are able to pull the trigger… literally. So that they can end it all. Swallow that lethal dose of pills or breathe in those toxic fumes. I’ve had many thoughts along those lines. Desperation to feel better. To numb the pain.

I fight through each day and battle the depression so that I can be a better Mom. I just want her to be okay. She didn’t ask for this life, but I gave it to her anyway. She shouldn’t have to suffer through my mental illness, so I do my best to keep it under control. It’s a squirmy little monster, though. It’s hard to keep it under wraps. It’d be so easy to make it dark and quit playing this game, but the thought of her struggling to come to terms with my death is too much for me to swallow. What if she thought she could’ve done something to change things? What if she thought I didn’t love her by giving up? Those thoughts keep me from exploring the urges. If she didn’t exist, I think I’d be gone, gone, gone, Gone Girl. There are other things that keep me fighting, too. God, my husband, my family and friends, pets, and the idea that maybe there’s something that will change the way my brain works so that I can life a more stable and fulfilling life.

I don’t think like this all the time and that’s part of what gets me through. Knowing that this will pass. The wave will hit the shore and peaceful waters will return. It’s going to be okay.

I’ve gotten better at coping. I mean… I’m at work finishing this post on my break. I’m functioning. I’m learning. I’m growing. I may not be where I want to be, but I’m working on it.

I can’t understand why I feel this way. I mean, I know that I have a diagnosis, but according to the powers that be, I should be able to manage my symptoms and live in recovery of mental illness. I should know my triggers. I should be using the toolbox filled with coping techniques that save the day. Sometimes those tools are dull or broken or not the right one for the job. Like trying to use a butter knife to cut down a tree. Ya know?

I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m writing to sort through my mad brain and try to make some sense of it all. I’m writing to feel better. I’m writing in hopes that someone else feeling this way knows they aren’t alone and selfishly in turn, so that I can believe I’m not alone. I really don’t want anyone to feel like, this but if they do, at least we can relate and travel this treacherous Galaxy together.

Is there someone or something keeping you alive? I hope they/it bring you comfort and that you find strength to fight through another day. My sincere love and empathy are with you.

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