So deeply sad, I can’t even identify where it’s all coming from
I don’t know why they left. They did though. And they’re never coming back.
I saw myself laying on a morgue table…on the cold, hard steel. And I was so ok with it. It wasn’t that it made me at peace or anything- just that I had no emotions attached to that vision. None whatsoever.
I don’t know why God wanted me to be alone. Can you imagine your future? Do you see yourself growing old with your spouse? With your adult children and grandchildren?
I have none of that. I never will. My destiny isn’t for this earth. I’m not supposed to be.
I 100% absolutely do NOT want to be here anymore. Fentanyl patches sound like a dream.
I constantly see him. My mind goes back and forth between him alive- smiling, laughing, joking, talking, taking pictures…to him in death- his eye bulging out, his blood pumping onto the ground around his head, his face, mouth, teeth, his tongue lolled back.
I’d much rather see the image of him alive, but I have no control over what comes. Both make me sad. His eye and tongue and mouth- his whole face haunts me.
Hours and hours sitting with him… Half the day consumed. I got up the next day and saw that I’d gotten mud all in my bed. I had never changed clothes…I was still covered in mud from being on the ground with him. I don’t remember driving home and I don’t remember going to bed. The next afternoon, I posted pictures of the scenery as if nothing had happened. I never told anyone. What’s wrong with me?? That I would post pictures and not say a word about the life lost? I question my sanity, my selfishness…I wasn’t trying to ignore his death- I just didn’t think it was fit for public posting. Obviously.
My heart, my soul, even my body feels so heavy with all that is happening. I’m so deeply saddened by his loss and the loss felt by his family…by the tragedy in Vegas and all the people hurt by the maddening violence…by my precious little companion getting more and more sick…by this **** that I wrote, fearing that people will be angry with me and not understanding…by my own tragedy and that of my bloodline that I can’t seem to overcome.
Yesterday, my heart felt so destroyed. I couldn’t believe how bad I was feeling. I was utterly devastated. It could have been compounded by the fact that the night before was sleepless. For not having slept, I thought I felt ok. But emotionally, I was absolutely destroyed. I broke down crying while walking across a parking lot. I stopped and sat on a boulder and asked God how I could carry on if I felt so wrecked. I was SO CLOSE to doing something to permanently end it all. It was the first time that I didn’t plan anything ahead of time. It was simply being overwhelmed by sadness that made me decide there was no end and no way out. As I sat on the boulder crying and thinking of the ways I could end it- I thought…of a chocolate shake. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I thought maybe a good chocolate shake could make me feel better, could maybe distract me for a time until my mind left that place. So I went and got an extra chocolately shake and devoured it. I did not feel better. But then, a friend started texting. I got consumed in the conversation and before I knew it, hours had passed, it was nighttime, and I hadn’t done anything negative. Not only that, but I realized later on that yesterday was the first day in months that I hadn’t self-medicated.
What was a terribly devastating day…hours of feeling deeply sad…that brought me lower than I could have imagined…turned into distraction by a chocolate shake…and then distraction by the conversation with my friend. If that chocolate shake didn’t happen…if my friend never texted…I’m afraid I wouldn’t be writing these words here now.
I’m in shock that I could actually become more sad. I thought I was at rock bottom. But today…and last night…it’s just absolutely unbearable.
I’ve successfully chased every person out of my life. Everyone. My mom, my friends, near and far, every single person.
Here where I live, no one cares about other people. Everyone here is so self-centered, ensuring their own goals and successes become a reality. I don’t see people caring about other people. I saw that Wyoming has the highest suicide rate in the country. I get the same vibe when I’m there that I do here- people are out for their own survival. They don’t even see others, much less actuallly care.
I don’t have the means to survive any more. I don’t have the means to keep seeing the therapist. I questioned whether it was helping anyway. I just simply can’t do this.
I wrote my ******* ****. For part of it, I broke down crying…for other parts, I was surprisingly stoic. It was bizarre. I am so angry at God. How can it be that I’m supposed to just keep faith, trust in God…and all he does is dump more and more and more on me? It doesn’t make sense to me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d believe God was purposely trying to make sure I don’t survive.
I can’t believe how low and devastated my heart feels. I’m utterly overcome with deep, deep sadness. I absolutely can not take anymore.
My little dog- my only companion in life is pretty sick. He has several different things going on. Yes, he’s old- 13 going on 14. But I’m not ready for him to leave yet. I need him so badly. He is literally my only companion in life. My ONLY companion. I have been crying ALL day.
I can NOT handle him leaving. Make no mistake about that. I absolutely cannot take it.
I don’t know. I have mixed feelings. I hear myself saying f*** everyone. I hate everyone. I’m sooo pissed at everyone. And then part of me thanks you sooooooo much. Those who have supported me through all this stupid crap called life- this never ending bullshit. I really do thank you.
This is the perfect place to do it because no one cares. People need to understand. This is me. This is my decision and my fault. And personally, I don’t think it’s a bad thing. It’s really not.
This is all me. It has nothing to do with any of you. Know that.
I thank all of you for your support. I truly do. 💜
This is beyond f**ked up- what’s going on inside of me. I went ahead and met with my therapist, despite my strong urges to cancel. I’m not sure anything will ever be able to help. Nothing is working. It’s just too much.
I feel numb. Like, my skull physically feels numb. It almost feels like what happened after my first session. I don’t know. I feel numb and in a stupor. There is simply too much for me to carry. I can’t do it. I give up.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m back to having an extreme urge to withdraw and just get as f**ked up as humanly possible. I hate everybody. I don’t think anyone cares about anyone but themselves. I question why I have so much hate in my heart. Maybe it’s not hate. Maybe it’s anger. I’m very, very angry- with everything that’s happening- Las Vegas and that fucking asshole who thought his purpose in life was to hurt as many people as he possibly could, everyone dying- people in Vegas and Jason on the trail, all the abuse, maltreatment, and downright evil in this world…and I’m angry at God for allowing these things to happen.
I hate everything and everyone right now. And why can’t people just understand when someone wants to die?! Why can’t people just let it happen and respect us? Truthfully, part of me wants help and part of me wants to be left alone.
I’m going to cancel meeting with the therapist. I can’t talk about what I need to and it’ll drive me fucking crazy. It’s useless. Nothing’s working. Everything is useless. People aren’t reliable. God’s not even reliable- why would I be stupid enough to expect people to be?
I thought things were getting better for a bit there. I really did.
I fucking hate my life. I do.
Fuck this. Fuck you. Fuck everything. I’m so sick of this.
News stories are emerging about him. Preliminary reports say it was a heart attack, pending a toxicology report from the coroner’s office.
I have no one to talk to about this. I was trained to not discuss the gory details of medical calls with family and friends. They didn’t sign up for the job. They’re not prepared, nor equipped to handle gory recounting of details of death and dismemberment. Only in cases of mass incidents or the death of children, would we be offered a counseling session to talk things out. So I feel it would be wrong for me to try to talk to someone about this. It’s not fair to put this on friends or family. I understand that. I don’t even think I should tell my therapist- I don’t know that she could handle the whole story with all the gory details that are haunting me. I don’t think so. It’s driving me so mad that I thought about asking her to reschedule our appointment sooner because I can’t handle this anymore.
I’m pretty sure I carry this weight alone. And I guess that’s ok.
Sleeping pills aren’t working. I haven’t slept well in days. Tonight, I’m going to take and do all I can just to sleep. Truthfully, I’m going to get as messed up as possible. I know that sounds incredibly immature, but I’m desperate for a respite here.
I see him all the time. The disparity in how he was when he was alive to how I saw him when I spent all those hours with him…I just can’t get it out of my head. I mean, where do you put all of that anyway? Where does it belong? At any rate, I have no control over it. It comes to me constantly and I see him.
I see his smile and remember him as he was talking with his son by the lake. Then I see his open mouth when he was dead…his teeth, his tongue lolled back, the blood…I hear the gurgling when he would receive breaths.
I can’t handle this right now. I feel like I should be able to, but I can’t. I want to run, to go away…I long to escape…it’s almost unbearable how much I want and need that.