I read an article from the New York Times website that made sense to me. Link is here: http://www.nytimes.com/2008/02/19/us/19suicide.html
I am nearing 47 years of age, have experienced a divorce after a long marriage, and have had “empty nest syndrome” twice now when my children have finished college and moved on.
I find that I have plans and goals for a career, yet I wander aimlessly through each day, as though I were a visitor in my own body – a tired and aging body.
Life isn’t getting better for me. It’s getting worse. I broke my family’s heart with a divorce (my choosing). I had to watch my kids have pain and anguish over their parents’ split. We’d been a very close family for 25 years. I’ve let the relationship with my parents fade.
I’ve raised my children. They are educated, married or engaged to wonderful partners, and have good jobs. My work is done. My marriage is done.
My career goal is to become an RN and work in an inpatient hospice environment. I’ve done it before as a CNA and loved the job. However, I have no motivation to finish this goal. I have gained a lot of weight. I have to drop out of life (missing classes and appointments), and spend days at a time in the house without leaving the bed except to go to the kitchen or bathroom.
I realize this is not “normal” behavior, but I’ve been on two antidepressants and take xanax to sleep at night. I’m tired of fighting it all. I have a new affinity for white wine and xanax together. My doctor told me that these two and my regular daily antidepressant can slow my system to a stop. She told me to stop the alcohol consumption and only take the prescribed 1 mg Xanax at night (instead of the 3 mg and half a bottle of wine).
I don’t really want to die. I just want to stop the feelings of hopelessness and pain. I want to stop hurting those I love. I’m just not sure how to go about those things.
I am very good at avoidance and denial. So, I stuff the feelilngs. No one seems to have answers for me anyway.
When I stop calling my friends and family. When I stop answering my phone. When I stop bathing and leaving my bed. I know I’m in a stupor. But, so? I’m stuck there.
Sad songs on the Ipod, smokes in my pocket, and a heavy chest, I survive. I don’t thrive. Far from it. Where is the potential I used to have? The hope? The energy and excitement to help others?
I understand the statistics in the article (link above). I’m one of those strugglilng to stay afloat.
A post script to this blog: I am in perimenopause and have occassional rollercoaster moods. THIS was one of my “bad places.” But, I share the good and the bad here. 🙂