Today was ugly. The ugliest, and I made it that way. The past few months we’ve had hydration and infusion treatments that worked until my veins collapsed, been diagnosed with kidney cancer on top of the thrombosis blood disorder that’s spiraling, on top of pancreatic disease, on top of autoimmune, on top of, on top of.... yeah. The specialists keep growing, just like the bills.
Today was so ugly. I made it ugly. I’m tired, at my wits end, and honestly, I don’t want to do this any longer. I can’t tell you how badly I want to give up. Everything hurts. It sounds generic, but it’s the truest way to describe it. Everything... fucking... hurts.
Today, I almost through myself into moving traffic. I wanted someone to hit me. I wanted to die today. I’ve been dealt a lot in my life, good, bad, indifferent. Today, the love I have for my family and my friends couldn’t pull me back. I wanted to die. I made my husband look directly into my broken eyes as I repeated to him how I no longer wished to live. I kept repeating it to myself. Why? Because I can no longer handle this burden.
It sounds selfish to many that someone would want their life to end, and perhaps it is. Perhaps it’s just as selfish of those that want to keep you here, despite your own suffering. Some claim morals, religion, damnation. Me, I’m just tired.
I’ve given up on me. Most everyone around me has given up on me. How could I not finally break down and apart? I have two choices, medicate with pharmaceuticals and be fully bed ridden, an opiate addict, and spend my final months or years a vegetable with no feelings, numb, no life, etc.... or... Push myself everyday as I’ve been. Pained beyond measure, gaining resentment, growing more and more exhausted by the day, mad at the world and a broken system, and constantly living in fear that I’m a burden to my husband. That one day he’ll also melt down and finally just say fuck it that he’s had enough. Because I’ve certainly had enough of me. Currently, and maybe for the first time ever in my life, I despise myself. I hate me today, and the behavior that has spewed out of me like a fire consuming everything in it’s path. I hate everything about me today.
Do I check into a mental hospital so I can be numbed on pharmaceuticals? The counselor seems to think all of this is completely normal for a terminally ill patient. Normal? Let me tell you, wishing death upon yourself doesn’t feel normal. Wanting to jump in traffic to end your pain, doesn’t feel normal. Feeling alone in a room full of people, doesn’t feel normal. Writing and scraping notes that apologize for not being able to go on, isn’t fucking normal. Knowing the love others have for you can’t save you, no, that’s not normal.
I don’t want the anti-depressants when the only reason I’m depressed is because I’m in constant pain and dying. I don’t want the anti anxiety meds when all they do is make me sleep the entire day away. I don’t want to miss life, I want to live it! And yet I wanted to today was die and hopefully be free.
Fuck cancer. Fuck auto immune diseases, fuck pancreatic disorders, and fuck those that profit off of the pain and suffering of others. I’m tired, boss. I’m tired of all the ugly. I’m even tired of myself.
I. Just. Want. Peace.
