Friday, December 31, 2004

I'm obviously a bad person

1) I got into a fight with my husband and said some nasty, hurtful things that I shouldn't have said.

2) I don't know how to argue.

3) I messed up the checkbook

4) I'm not ok with the leanness of our lean month.

5) I'm blogging about it.

6) When I think about all the stuff I have to do, and how I'm going to get no relief with the insurmountable load of stuff I have to do next month because James will be working over time, and I'll have to take on some of his chores as well, I want to kill myself. 6a- really isn't a caviat, I just figured I'd burry it in here somewhere where folks really won't notice so they won't know what a freak I am--I have no use for sex. I wouldn't say it's a hate for it or anything like that, just an extreme disinterest and I don't understand how/why other human beings could possibly wish to waste time on it when they could be persuing more noble things like sleep, returning books to the library or watching paint dry. Or possibly washing clothes. I keep dreaming of the day where my knight in shining armor will change out the laundry for me without asking, just because it's a chore that needs done and he wants to help. I ask the universe for too much. Though he did wipe the stove, for which I am eternally grateful. I'm just out of steam. I want to rest. I dont want to get up tomorrow and drive Jenn to work, though I can't stand the idea of her leaving the house 4 hrs early for her shift, just to get to a place that's a 20 minute car ride away, because I've had to live through that hell for too many years myself. God I wish James would take her. I know he won't, and would never think of the idea himself, but I wish to the lord he'd do it and not do it grudgingly if he were going to. Just do one of my chores. That's all I ask for. I don't think it's possible to be this exhausted mentally and physically and still continue on living. I almost pray to God never to have children because I know I'd be even more suicidal from sleep deprivation and exhaustion. I suck, other people somehow manage to get their chores done and have kids. Many others manage to get their chores done, have kids AND work. I can't even work and get my chores done. God I'm such a terminal loser.

7) When I think of how badly I messed up the checkbook, I want to kill myself.

8) When I think of the three bills I created, one because I'm a moron and two because I keep wanting things, I want to kill myself. Why can't I just stop wanting things? Or at least be less impulsive? Why can't I be a regular shape? Then I could just buy clothes at walmart and not have to spend so much on "real" clothes. I can't believe I keep wanting an iPod. I've already wanted enough stuff, can't I just stop wanting an iPod too? Why did I get the camera? What's wrong with me? People like me don't need things and we don't deserve them. You don't deserve them until you have your shit together way more than I have my shit together.

9) I'm wrong for thinking that my problems are so bad that killing myself with help.

10) I still want to kill myself.

I've thought about stabbing myself in the wrists. Or probably just one wrist. Not sure I'd have the nerve to do more than one. Slitting doesn't seem very pratical. I keep thinking of that tendon in the wrist and how I think I paid $6 total for all of my steak knives, and therefore they probably can't cut bread, much less a tendon. However, I could probably stab a vein or two fairly well. Or even stab the tendon. I don't know. A gun would be the quickest and most painless (except for the inevidable part where I'd hit some mostly not necessary portion of my brain and walk around not exactly lombotomized, just aware of how stupid I've made myself for the rest of my life because I couldn't even shoot myself right). Hanging would be second on that list except the only place I have that'd be decent for it, with rafters and the like, is the basement, and it's just not tall enough from floor to crossbeams.

I wouldn't say I obsess over it. But it something I think about. Especially at times like this where it's brought to my attention yet again that I'm a useless failure that can't do anything right and has nothing to offer the world. Shit, I've been thinking of ways to kill myself since I was 5 and I figured out what death was. Morbid, yeah. Sick, yeah. But that's life being chemically imbalanced and growing up in a dysfunctional psychologically scarring family.

It's also life as a wanna-be writer. I think about the "details" instinctively. So I guess I'm saying that I don't want a thousand e-mails telling me to seek help. Yes, I know that at various points in my life I really should have admitted to the problem and been hospitalized and treated, but I haven't done it for various reasons. Basically I probably need hospitalized for the entire winter because that's when I want to kill myself the most, I just can't handle the short days and the cold and just how difficult it is to go anywhere and do anything. It was warm today and all it does is upset me and make me panic becuase I know it's not going to last and we're going to be back to weather that's unbearable. I want to live some place where it's September 7th forever and ever. Long days, warm but not hot days, cool but not cold nights, crickets chirping as you sit in the grass watching twilight become night just because you can. I hate being cold. I've been cold all my life and I just can't stand it.

I want a fucking horsey.

1 Comments:

Blogger Gretchen said...

Oh, Tammy. I wish I knew words that would help a little, because I can identify so well with how you feel. And I'm not just saying that. I really know what you mean. But I also know that words don't always help in situations like this. Just know that you're not alone, OK?

10:47 AM  

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