The following post discusses suicidal thoughts. If this is a trigger for you, please discontinue reading.
I don’t know how to drive a car with a manual transmission, but I do know that in order to slow down you have to downshift. That’s exactly what has happened to whatever cheer and energy I could muster throughout this current depression. It has downshifted.
Fortunately, I still have some presence of mind not to do anything stupid, but the truth is, I don’t feel safe. I don’t want to wake up tomorrow. I’m trying hard not to take my entire bottle of trazodone and sleep my last sleep. I’m living one moment at a time.
Once I hit the Publish button, I will probably text my therapist to tell her that I don’t feel safe. I don’t want to go to the hospital, but I’m afraid I may have to. I’m already thinking of what I can wear that doesn’t have drawstrings or shoelaces, which the psych ward staff takes away from you so you can’t hurt yourself with them. I’m drawing blanks.
My husband is lightly napping on the love seat while I type this from the sofa. I’ve told him how I feel, and he’s encouraging me to hold on until tomorrow, when I have my next appointment with my therapist, and to talk to her then. He’s told me how much he would miss me, and how much he loves our family of 5 (the 2 of us, the 2 cats, and Rudy the dog).
I keep repeating Eve’s Thursday’s Affirmation in my head: I am worthy.