Wednesday, September 10, 2014


Hurting myself has always been a way of life for me.  I have no idea why.  I suppose emotions have just been too sharp and overwhelming for me. Suicide has always been an option, and I have attempted several times, each time with the honest to God intent not to survive.  Each time God has intervened. I don't know why. So far I have not proven to be of any real significance to anyone but my children.  That's why when I feel like I am failing them, like they would be better without me, its hard not to jump down into the blackest emotional pit.

It may seem that I am just a week individual, not strong enough to withstand the normal ups and downs of life.  I would argue that the pain I feel is so strong, and so sharp, and so heavy, that making it this far sometimes makes me feel like I am pretty strong.  So why do I think I have more pain that is normal?  I have no idea.  I feel at times like I was born without the skin that protects the oversensitive nerves that we all have, but on an emotional level instead of physical.  I can tolerate physical pain just fine. In fact I have often inflicted it on myself.

I'm going to be honest. The last few weeks I have spent the majority of my physical energy on survival.  Not enough has gotten done on the house and with the kids. But each night I go to bed exhausted from the tireless thought processes spinning through my head. Never slowing down. Never stopping.  Like I'm wading through a dense jungle marsh without a machete.