Square One

Rough, dark day. One of those "back to the drawing board" sort of days. Back to "square one." The hubster comforted me, saying that even though it feels like I'm starting all over that I'm starting all over in a different place. Each and every time I've given up on my life I've restarted in a different place, sort of like how it's impossible to step into the same river twice.

So, I've bottomed out. Hit bottom again. Amazed that yet again I'm still here despite those blackest moments. Despite feeling the eerie calm of deciding to die and being comforted by the logic of my diseased brain. That broken brain tell me "I wasn't meant to live," "their lives will be better without me," and "it's better to end it than continue living this half-life."

Here again at square one. Facing a familiar decision to chose life for myself and start again at building my little house of cards.

Before I even got out of bed today I was thinking about dying. I became fixated on creating an inventory of my belongings and determining how they would be dealt with after I passed. I even composed an email to send to the hubby but did not send it. I managed to eat an apple and do laundry.

Midday I spoke the hubster on the phone and was still out of it. He convinced me to eat some lunch, saying something about doing small things to see if they made me feel any better instead of giving up and simply feeling crappy. I had a tuna melt. Did the catboxes and kept the laundry moving.

When he got home I was still wonky. His simple suggestion to go for a hike brought me to the floor, staring into the carpet with my head in my hands. I couldn't talk. He phoned the insurance company and discussed our counseling coverage. I refused to consider "wasting more money."

Somehow I ended up at the computer, showing him the email I didn't send earlier and the inventory I wanted to establish. That got the ball rolling, he was disturbed and concerned and we talked it out. Not that I gave up wanting to kill myself, quite the opposite. During our talk I solidified a plan and was convinced that it was better for me to end my life than allow so much suffering to continue.

At some point things settled enough that we showered and went out to dinner. Big transition, right? Guess suicidal break downs are par for the course at our house. The hubster lead me through an impromptu date night. Him trying to help me "enjoy the moment" and I savoring what I saw as the "last time" we'd visit these places together.

Looking at him across the dinner table from me I felt my heart ache. I saw him listening, looking, being with me and realized that I do mean a lot to him. Saw for a moment how lonely he could be without me, felt with my heart instead of being misled by my diseased thoughts and was saddened to think of us parting, instead of relieved to end my suffering. In that simple moment, looking at my husband with a goofy grin on his face as we discussed menu items, I felt the veil of darkness lifting. I could see a reason for living.

Over the course of the evening I felt more and more clarity coming back as the hangover symptoms settled into my body; the aches and pains of such an emotional overload that I'm all too familiar with. I still feel desperate, that something needs to change and needs to change very, very soon, but I'm not sure what, or how. I feel lost and weak and durn near hopeless, but somehow I'm here.

Back at square one.