I can’t understand why everyone can’t see how close I am to death, but they really can’t. Anymore than I could see if someone was going to suffer a stroke or get run over 20 minutes after they walked past me. At this point of course I can’t help but think of the theory of lifelines of probability (care of “Daybreak”).
I am quite simply going mad. If a score of 10 is actually committing suicide, I’m at 9.7 or thereabouts. For the first time in 10 years, I’m thinking about when and how it should occur. Scary. But – unlike last time – there are small moments of light in the dark, which actually help. Good things used to make me more depressed by reminding me that all good things do end, but now I’m grateful for any break from it all however small or minor. A kiss from little S, a silly kid’s joke or two from H, rainbows on the bathroom windows in the morning, a cup of hot chocolate.
I don’t WANT to talk to my friends and family about it too much – it’s so ******* boring. I’m bored of dealing with it, I’m sure they are too! Apart from the irritability and tension that is there for me, and I get so angry at them in my head, they are so slow, they don’t understand, they don’t keep up – so I don’t really want to talk to them about this anyway. I keep moving into numbness which I’m starting to enjoy, as it’s a bit calmer and more practical to be there. Meds have been increased and i think they are making me very sleepy… or could be I’m super depressed! That seems to make people tired.
I think this kind of bipolar/depression is so damn lonely. Either everyone is at the top of the pit completely oblivious to it, or would really rather not notice the pit. Despite their empathy, they don’t understand why you would be down there. Or the next time they look, you are back up at the top again, so they think you’re ok. Then with fellow sufferers – it feel like you are talking through a hole in the wall – from your pit to their pit- but in the end you are the bottom of your hole – alone – and they are at the bottom of theirs.