The hardest part about death, in relation to those left behind, is that you will never see them again. Out of the blue I am crying again. Trying to remember the last time I saw my father, prior to December 3rd.
As the tears flowed down my face, I thought of all the times that I have fantasized of killing myself. I would not want to be responsible for inflicting that sort of pain on my daughter and boyfriend. However, my daughter is a therapist. She would be hurt and angry, but she would understand.
I always thought when I stopped self-injuring, the suicidal ideations would go away. Well, I was wrong. I self Injur much less than any time in my life. Yet I still do not want to be here. I don’t understand.
This is dedicated to a lot of people, my mom who died at the age of 34 on 10/1/76. My father who left on 12/03/15 and all of those who have touched my heart in someway. I may be mistaken, but I believe this was written by Clapton after the loss of his son. This song came to mind, I got overcome with emotion, and I had to get it out
Juxtaposed Darkness….poems of depression and self injury
I cut the palm of my left hand last night. It was with a beautiful knife I found on the ground, while walking with my daughter and grandoggy. I remember my daughter saying, “Don’t pick that up! Who knows what it was used for and it is dirty.” It really is a beautiful switchblade.
So Tuesday will be the fifth month since I lost my dad. Did I mention it was in a roll over accident? I can’t remember and I don’t re-read my posts. My posts are the emotions of a given moment. Not to be relived again by re-reading. Of course I do end up reliving those emotions again because my life, my pain, my self-hatred, is a circle.
So at this moment I am about to take a nap before my test over 4 chapters. I am taking an online course to be a medical biller and coder. At the same time that I am in training for a new job. My brain hurts 😒
I am wearing my dad’s West Virginia Coal Miner’s cap and hugging his Washington Redskins teddy bear. I miss him. My daughter says I am sacrificing my mental health with this job. I am not permitted to miss a day of training. I have not seen my psychologist in two months. I wonder if he thinks I am dead. Maybe he doesn’t think of me at all.