Wasted Space

I wish I were stronger.  I wish my head was screwed on straighter and tighter. But the truth is is that I’m weak and I wish that I could just rip my head off my neck.

I’m so NOT myself. I haven’t felt like this in a long time. Right this second … right this very second, I can tell you that I. Don’t. Care. That I actually don’t give a flying fuck and I am just done.

There.  It’s out. I don’t care and I just want to crawl in a fucking hole and stay there.

This isn’t anything new. I have a history of suicidal ideation. My very first suicidal attempt was when I was 8 years old. I’ve wanted to die since before that.

I’m not a fan of living. I try hard to fake it, but honestly, I could really care less if I’m alive or dead. Ironic for a nurse, isn’t it? I earn my living caring for and saving others, when I can barely keep my own self alive.

Yes … I know. I know. How dare I? How dare I write these words when there are others who are dying and truly want to live? How dare I!

I NEVER asked to be born. I’ve known this since I was a small child. Here’s more irony … I was always told that I was not meant to be and if it were not a crime, then I would’ve been killed. True story.

I don’t feel my worth. I know that I have a good life. I know that I am blessed. I know all this. I’m not stupid, I just don’t want to be here. I don’t feel like I’m supposed to be here.

I am just an individual taking up space. I am wasting space. I’m just here, on Earth, waiting to leave it. I have no direction, nor do I feel as if I have a purpose.  I have NO clue what my lot in life is. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m just here; floundering like a fish out of water; wasting time and space. I wish I didn’t feel like that, but I do.

Money doesn’t buy happiness. I know this because I’ve tried. I’ve spent a lot of money buying shit that I don’t really need or want over the years. I keep thinking that I can just keep buying stuff to fill whatever void it is I’m trying to fill. In the last week it was 6 pairs of shorts, a new ring to replace the one I lost, new purse, a new wallet when the one I have is perfectly fine, tank tops, iPad, books … I have money and things and I’m not happy. 

On the outside, I look like a perfectly “normal” human being, but what’s “normal?” Most days I wake up and just go thru the motions … faking it, pretending to be this living, breathing, happy human being, when deep down inside, I’m not. I’m a miserable, depressed, and unhappy person.  I don’t get it.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m severely depressed – I have been since I was a little kid. But yet, here I am … still alive, but not alive. I am walking dead. I am just a shell.

People would be quick to point out that I have this “ideal” life … Great husband, great kids … what about them, right? Yes, they’re right to point that out. I love my husband and my kids, but is that enough? It’s enough for me to NOT do anything stupid, how’s that?

I’ve cared for a lot of people who have attempted suicides in my line of work. I’ve also cared for a lot of people who have attempted and FAILED at their suicides. If I really, really wanted to … I would know exactly how to do it and succeed. But it’s just not worth it to cause my family undue pain like that. So it’s up to me to figure it out and just keep on trying to find my place in this madness, and to stifle the voices in my head.

I’ve made it this far … How far can I go? It’s so painful. It is so painful. I believe that this is why I can handle and why I crave physical pain because the pain of living is far worse than any physical pain. I need this pain to sustain me. It’s what keeps me going. It’s the only thing that has kept me going all these years, and I’ve been without it these last two months … I have had no outlet, and I have had no pain. I’m just done and I don’t know if it will ever make any sense. I’m having surgery on Wednesday and I’m seriously contemplating asking my surgeon to do my surgery WITHOUT anesthesia. Yeah … I know.

I just don’t know how much longer I can do this. I feel as if I’m suffocating. I feel like I’m drowning. I just can’t … It’s been so long. It’s been so long and I’m tired. I. am. tired. And I just want to let go … and fall …

Listen, I know that this all sounds dramatic. I know that it’s my ego, my frustration, my sadness, my anger all talking at once.  I’ve been out of commission for TWO months now and I don’t have an outlet. I don’t know what to do with myself.  I keep trying and trying to hang on and be positive. Here’s the thing, I know that I sound irrational. I’m reading this and thinking that I sound ridiculous, but my head is another story. I feel as if I’m not really going to 100% get my thoughts back together and recover psychologically.  It sucks – SUCKS – being injured, being sidelined. It’s so devastating to me because I don’t know what to do, I don’t know how to be still. Even though I know that others have had the same injury as I have and have recovered, I still feel alone. I still feel as if I’m not going to recover completely.  I also feel as if although I may recover and go on to workout again that somehow I may reinjure myself.  I feel as if I’m falling behind those who are still working out.  I feel as if I’m not going to catch up to them, that I’ll be lifting less and not running as fast. I’m anxious that I’ve been still for so long.  I feel as if so much of my identity surrounds working out, running, and crossfit that I’m not sure I know who I am.  I feel as if I’m truly suffocating. And I’m depressed … severely depressed. So that’s where I’m at … I know it’s dramatic and I really don’t care because I can’t lie. I can only express the feelings that I have and that I know. That’s where I am … and I’m about ready to let go … But I know … I know that life will go on and that I’ll recover and this will only be a sliver of a thought in my memory … I know that one day it will all make sense …

Perfer et obdura; dolor hic tibi proderit olim.

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