I need a code word to put in my post titles to indicate whether they’re safe for consumption, or if by the end, you’ll want to jump off of a tall building too. Read at your own risk.
Dark times in this mind of mine. Wicked dark. It’s getting scary and yes, I’m afraid of myself. Afraid of the thoughts that flood my head even when I’m singing along with the Beatles. Distraction was my most powerful tool against depression, but it’s just not working anymore.
Step 1: Yell “FUCK YOU!” at your husband for no reason other than he’s there.
Step 2: Call him an asshole, then explain he’s not an asshole because of what he does. He’s an asshole because of the things he doesn’t do.
Step 3: Say, “I really need to di….shower.”
Step 4: Sit on shower bench, cry until you can’t breathe. Eventually turn the water on, wash the funk away.
Step 5: So fresh, so clean, you’re finally able to control your tears and quivering face, so you do a mental exercise with you husband.
-Imagine you’ve only got one reason to live.
-Now imagine that one reason to live would be better off if you weren’t alive.
-Would you want this person to hate you so that you can feel it’s okay to die?
Step 6: Tell him you’re tired and you can’t do it anymore. You want to die.
Step 7: Tell him if you do die, it isn’t his fault. You weren’t designed for this world.