Today is not my best

Today was not my best. I tried to wake up. My eyes hurt. My body ached. I wanted to crawl under the covers and stay in bed all day. But I had to get up. Take the kids to school. Work. Do the things I am supposed to do as an adult in this world. Got the kids in the car. On autopilot. I am a shitty mom. I work far away. I spend too much time away from home. Too much time at the gym. Too much time letting their dad do most of the parenting. Because I don’t know how to. Because I never really connected to my kids. Because I need to keep arms length. Because I am not so sure I will be sticking around.

I tried to run after I dropped them off. I need to run. It’s the only thing that quiets my mind. But I am tired. I am fat. I am disgusting. My excess skin hanging like sheets from my swollen belly and thighs and back. This body couldn’t run if it tried. But I did try. One foot in front of the other I said. I made it only about half a mile. And I was so very slow. I felt like I was dipped in concrete and drying more with every step I took.

I walked home. I feel nothing. I watch my body from outside. Wondering who is in command. I am tired and I am sore. But my legs know the way home. My brain is detached from my body. I sit down and try to work. It’s painful to think. My head is foggy and my eyes are heavy. I am stupid. I am no good. I can’t even do my job. I am gross and I am worthless.

I decide to cook. I used to be good at that. I like to make food for my family. It’s something that brings them joy. Something to pass the time. The food is tasteless. No good. Can’t even be passed off as edible.

I go back to work. Looking at letters on the screen but not registering in my brain. Detached. Still watching from outside but feeling nothing but the heaviness of my eyes and my soul. Who is the person I have become? I don’t recognize myself. This is not me. I am not real. I am just a ghost. I don’t remember when I died but I did. I died and my body is still here. Taking up a whole lot of space on this planet. I listen to voices. I hear them outside my head. A long narrative ranting on about all my transgressions. My past sins. My general uselessness. Sometimes I can easily tune them out, sometimes they are not there at all, but today they are loud.

I looked up a number for a suicide prevention hotline. Most days there are fleeting thoughts of not being here, being better off dead, of my family being better off without me. But today they are stronger. Today they are more real. They probably don’t have time to talk to me anyway.   They need to talk to the bad off people. I’m too much of a coward to really go through with it. I read somewhere once that longstanding suicidal ideation is protective against suicide. I guess a person can take comfort in the fact that there is always a way out and that keeps them from actually finding their way out. I think there might be some truth in that.

Today was a bad day. I can fake it and lie and say tomorrow will be better, but truth is it probably won’t be. And I’ve lived my life like this for 25 years, in and out of depression and psychosis and a little mania strewn in. And I really wish there was a rock bottom, but that’s just a myth. Rock bottom is just one long plateau to the end. Sprinkled with teases of happiness. Fleeting moments where I think it might be possible to find a little bit of joy that eventually all gets stolen from me. People with hope might say things will get better, things are always darkest before the dawn, but I lost my hope and my humanity long ago. And dark is the new light and everything is always grey.

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