I don’t want to die, but living hurts too much, but here I am alive and I need to drag my heavy body out of bed.
I woke this morning and wiped away the tears.
I didn’t want to wake up this morning, or any morning of the past month.
Sleep does not come easily and I pray each night that the pain of living can end.
The alarm is ringing in my head.
I have to get the kids up for school.
I stumble with a heavy heart and the zombie mode is functioning.
Make a cup of tea, go outside and have a cigarette, wake the kids, make the breakfast, get them dressed.
Make sure they have their homework, their PE kit and wash faces and brush teeth and walk to school in a daze.
I nod and I smile in the right places.
Nobody knows deep down inside I want to die.
My friends say good morning, how are you?
Fine, I tell them.
But I am not fine.
I am suicidal.
I don’t want to live but I don’t want to die.
Being suicidal isn’t always about wanting to kill yourself.
I can’t kill myself, I have far too many responsibilities, I have 6 kids who need their mother.
So I survive, I don’t live.
I don’t want to die
I don’t want to die but I no longer want to be here.
I want the pain I feel to end.
If I kill myself my pain ends but the pain for my children, family and friends begin, I can’t do that to them.
If I were to tell my psychiatrist I was suicidal the red flags would be raised.
If I were to speak with my family and friends and tell then I want to die, they would be worried and I would be placing a huge burden upon them.
How can anyone understand that I don’t want to die but I don’t want to live either?
The medications mask the pain a little, but they don’t take it away, they don’t stop the suicidal thoughts. Every day I have to stop acting upon them and that’s exhausting.
People say suicide is selfish, I think suicide is the bravest thing anyone can do.
I know how it feels to want to die. But I also know I can’t push my pain onto others.
I know I am not the only one who can’t stand the reflection staring back at them.
I miss living, I miss laughing, I miss wanting to be here.
The black clouds swallow me under, I am drowning and can’t reach the surface, I am gasping for air, but it hurts to breathe as I don’t want to breathe but I don’t want to die either. And so I cry alone, I cry a lot and then I paint the fake smile upon my face and I stand there lying to everyone, to myself that I am fine.
While I am nobody to so many, I am someone to others and it matters how this ends …….
So I have to choose to live, even if I don’t want too.