I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO

Dear Hearts,

I am losing it. I’m having another panic attack here.

I want to die. Right now I do not want to be here.

God won’t punish me for not promising to permanently disarm The Nuclear Action. I will punish myself. How the fuck can I move on if I can’t commit myself to life?

What fucking broke?

CD here. I will write in italics so you know it’s Kate’s Good Friend: CD. For any of the disappointment I had over Christmas with her actually ‘enjoying’ herself as much as possible. I am being paid back in spades. She is freaking the fuck out!! I LOVE IT!

I mean come on—if I can make Jesus, The Son of God, doubt, then I sures the hell can break Kate.

Do it Kate. After G-Pa is asleep—take all the pills you have and swallow them. Oh, that’s right—you can’t even do that right! So find something sharp. Not a serrated knife like before—find something very sharp and cut the femoral artery in both your thighs. You can take all the pills you have for good measure too. You will bleed out before you can throw up the pills. Do it!

I do. I wish I had the courage to do that. I wish I could call someone and tell them that I want to do this—I wish I could call and talk to someone who wouldn’t lock me in a hospital for talking this way. No priests available at the moment.

You could put your favorite movie in the computer and watch True Romance and smoke cigarettes in your bedroom—in bed with Angel. You can have pie and die! I can rhyme! Don’t forget a suicide note though first.

You know you love being this way. This is the way you were meant to be. Career? House? Husband? Fucking forget it, fucking retard.

Aunt Faerie reacted to strongly when I told her that in 2012 when I was hospitalized for colitis that I asked the docs to run a tox screen on me because I thought Asshole could poison me. I told her that I didn’t go off the pill—in case he raped me. That I stopped wearing my teeth-grinding device because I always left it in a cup filled with Efferdent in the medicine cabinet during the day. That’s how I always cleaned it. But, when Asshole went postal, I stopped—because I was afraid he’d do something to it.

Could that single event—well it wasn’t just that—there was so much more. And then T. My God. Oh, it’s okay for me to threaten to fucking kill me and call me a fucking bitch because he apologizes afterward. Could my divorce all the shit that’s happened since really break me?

Kate cracks me up. She has a rosary wrapped around her left wrist—the way she did in the second nut house and St. Michael’s Chaplet wrapped around her right wrist. Good fucking luck, sister! I’ll throw ya’ a rabbit’s foot. She won’t admit. But she is doubting God and feeling a distance from God and Mother Mary—now I’ve got her right where I want her. Ha!

What could I do to go back and change things? Not marry Asshole? Quit teaching earlier? Thrown T. over as soon as he threatened to kill me and not go to the MD about his “concussion?”

I can’t see the light. I talked to Mom in the grocery star parking lot tonight. She told me that she hasn’t given up hope. I can’t see the light—any light. 

And you ain’t never gonna see the light again, cunt. You fucked this up! You. You. You. Lots of people grow through worse shit than you and come out the other side. Too bad you are so weak and worthless. You will lose your house because you’re too lazy to do anything about it—like, hmmm, get a job. You don’t even want to go to Burning Bed tomorrow because of germs. Just give up the ghost already. Things can get worse. They will. No house—I know you can imagine the pain and gut-wrenching despair of losing that house. Ain’t I grand? But—it’s your fault. You coulda had a nice life there, after Asshole left—but you broke down like the fucking pussy you are. You are 39 and living off your parents.

You keep waiting for the WHEN. When I’m divorced…when you get the house…when the principal retires…when your unpaid leave of absence is up…when you find balance. When you leave T. When Burning Bed hires you…when your union benefits are up…when you grow balls enough to apply to a real job even online. God, you are one lazy bitch. You can’t even work in a gift shop! There is no “When,” baby. The “When” is now and you are fucked. Debt. No retirement. No hope. There is no hope! You tried it all—therapy, ECT, acupuncture, drugs, prayer—you even moved to a different fucking state.

There is no light. You lose. Someone has to. God gave you a good life you could have succeeded with and you fucked it up! You! And, you’re alive because…

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where to turn. I don’t know if this is all in my head and I am being a Drama Queen--if these feelings, depression, and episodes are really out of my control. I don’t know where to turn anymore. I don’t know what to do. I am drowning in the bottom of the well.

Just fucking do it. You threw every good thing you had away because you’re fucking lazy. You aren’t doing anyone any good. Yeah, yeah, your parents and family would be sad—how much longer can you really go on like this? They think they couldn’t go on without you, but they would. They would just fine. So just fucking do it.

You won’t hurt anymore. I promise.

Not tonight. I will not take the Nuclear Option tonight. Not on G-Pa’s couch. Thoughts and actions are very different things. I just feel like I am losing my mind. I can’t get a grip on anything. I try to fill the holes with drawing, coloring, cross stitching, smoking, reading, TV, FAITH, but it’s not helping.

Tonight is so dark in the bottom of the well. I can’t see anything. What if I just slipped under the water?

You’re never gonna get out of this alive.

Okay. Fine. Fuck it all. But I will not die tonight. Not tonight. Not on G-Pa’s couch or in G-Pa’s house. Not tonight. I will get through tonight.

“Afterall, Tomorrow is another day.”

Reasons to live tonight: pie, cigarettes, Angel, family, God, TV…I’ve been here before…and I got out…I just don’t know what to do.

Mom and Aunt Faerie—I’m sorry. I just have to believe that putting this out there is better than keeping inside.

Smoke ‘em if ya’ got ‘em. God Bless

In the name of The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; Mother Mary, Saint Brigid; Saint Jude; Saint Therese Lisieux; Saint Peter; Archangel Michael, and my Guardian Angel, Jed.

PS: You are also failing your grandfather Big Leauge. Yeah, he deserves that.

PPS: Not tonight and not on my Dad's birthday.