The reality of my life, both the past and the present, are too horrible for me to bear any longer. I think about death and dying, and the peace it will bring me… every day. It’s the only hope for peace I have. Death. The hope that I will go to heaven. If that exists.
I’m physically, mentally, psychologically and emotionally falling apart. My soul has been murdered. Destroyed. My heart has given up.
Today, thoughts about dying went further than normal. I thought about how I would do it. I literally imagined every moment of it. I’m so ready to die. So ready to have this nightmare, hellish life…. over.
I had thoughts of how I would die and the peace it would bring. It was so good. And then I sadly and painfully realised it was just day dreaming. I’m still here. The pain all flooded back, filling me yet again, with terminal aloneness. And terminal hopelessness.
My soul desperately needs some peace. And I know what I need to do, to find that peace. The only way I will find peace. Thoughts of my children, stopped me. But nearly didn’t. I lay down for a while and knew if these thoughts didn’t start to subside, or worsened, I would need to go to hospital. For my children’s sake.
I willed myself, to summon some remnants of strength. To just get to the end of the day.
And so I’m here. Continue reading