Hello.
Im married with a 4-year old son.
I have a house, a car, a dog, two cats, and a couple fish. (On the surface I have everything someone should need to feel accomplished)
But I do not feel joy. Nor warmth, nor compassion. I feel alone, and in pain.
I am unemployed. I have severe depression, where I can not get out of bed. I have had an eating disorder since I was small to cope with bullying and abuse for my weight. I used food as a crutch to feel comfortable somehow. I’ve felt wrong in my own skin for as long as I can remember. I am in a relationship where I feel alone, misunderstood, and ugly. I came out of the closet as PANsexual this past Christmas and feel completely misunderstood for finally admitting who I was, and have been since I was small.
I lay here in bed, at 1:30am next to my sleeping husband and my dog, awake and unable to sleep. It’s raining outside and I stare out on the wet road outside my bedroom window. A familiar longing aches inside me, to walk out into the cold rain and walk away. Away where? I don’t know, just somewhere I won’t hurt anymore. I hate myself for feeling pain, I hate myself for feeling hunger, I hate myself for existing... so much hatred for myself. I just want to disappear.
For the past 4 years I haven’t killed myself because I have a son, he was my reason to not die. He needed me. Over the past month I’ve been bedridden with covid-19. And during that time my 4 year old had his dad looking out for him, I slept and tried to get better. As I tried to engage with my son after I finally started to get well. He was defiant, calling me daddy not mommy. Saying no constantly and whining instead of talking. It became overwhelming. So I’d find my way back to my bedroom and hide under the covers and either weep or sleep. After a while I didn’t feel sick anymore from covid19. But depression swept me under its dark wave fully. Cold and heavy and powerful, it pulled me down with its gravity. Here I sit.
My son just had his 4th birthday this week. I feel as though he doesn’t need me at all. His dad took care of him while I was sick. I can’t even do basic stuff in the morning like shower or dress myself, let alone care for my child. I’m grateful I have my husband to care for my son. I feel like a burden, eating when my husband brings me food, but otherwise remaining in bed. I’m too much of a coward to actually go through with killing myself, but the want to disappear and make the pain stop is only growing. I’m afraid of pain, but death is becoming more and more attractive.
I wouldn’t have to deal with the pain of being lonely even beside my spouse, feeling ugly and heavy and unable to change, feeling lost and misunderstood, having a child who has forgotten who I am and only defies me. I wouldn’t have to wake up and sigh and be disappointed that I woke up.
I don’t know why I’m putting all this here.
Maybe for some compassion?
Maybe for a suggestion that doesn’t involve killing myself?
I feel cemented in this unhappy life. I feel heavy and cold and numb. I don’t know if I can stop it, but I want out.
Help.