Slip Slidin’ Away

I know in writing this out in the open, I will lose readers. And that is alright, readers that want to leave. I totally understand. I’ll also turn potential employers away. And that is alright, potential employers. I totally understand. No one wants to read about someone else’s misery. It sounds pathetic, self centered, whiny and stupid. But, write I will, because today I still can.

The thing about slipping away, slipping under, the light getting smaller and smaller, is that you don’t realize it’s happening until it’s too late.

You’re going along, not thinking about how things are getting incrementally harder because you’ve always had days that are harder. And then get better. And then harder again and then better again ad nauseum until you are pretty much used to the ride. You don’t consider it remarkable anymore because it’s your “normal” life.

But the black hole is sneakier. The days get harder and harder. You’re waiting it out. You know if you just get through another day, things will get better again. So another day passes where you’re holding on with both hands. Then one hand. Then a few fingers. Then you notice your fingernails are torn and bloody stumps and finally, FINALLY, you realize you’re not going to be able to get back up. You are losing your grip completely and it’s too late to take precautionary measures. Way to late for that.

It becomes a life of lying under the water, looking at the world through goggles and trying not to think about all the ways you could die. Accidentally, of course.

And then it becomes a life of trying not to think of how to die on purpose. And you can’t even see out of the water anymore. Someone turned out the lights. You can’t hear or see or feel anything but extreme sad and bad and guilt.

“I’m trapped!” I yelled at the psychiatrist yesterday, “I can’t stay here and worry everyone while my mother-in-law has stage4 cancer and I should be taking care of her! I can’t go see family because they would worry the whole time I’m there! I can’t stay alive because this is how things will be the rest of my life – up, down, up, down – I can’t do it anymore! And I can’t kill myself because my kids would never get over it!”

It feels like I’m trapped in hell.

A med change is underway. I don’t feel better, I feel weird. Even more distant from my surroundings and I care even less.

I can write this because I’m a writer and this is what I do. I can’t change anything in my brain because this is how I am. I haven’t stopped crying for over 2 weeks and I shake all the time. I don’t want food. I only want to drink and fall asleep. But I don’t. I just think about it. Because maybe I won’t wake up. That would be nice.

My husband says, “There are lots of people who want you around, and alive. I love you Leah. You are valuable and precious.” I hear it but I can’t hear it because it feels like a lie. I didn’t think I would get married again after my divorce in 2002. I figured no one should be married to the mess that is me. But, I did marry. And he’s wonderful. And I fill his life with stress and drama and worry. In loving him I’ve ruined his life. If I really loved him, I would leave him.

This is the black hole talking. In this flash of sanity, I know it. But, sometimes the black hole just takes over everything and reason and sanity are nowhere.

37 Responses

  1. I’m sending you strength and if it helps (because just reading this made me feel less alone) I’m in a similar hell and I totally understand. Huge hugs.

  2. You’ve made it through before, you will again. You’re stronger than most “mentally healthy” people I know. You’re the shit, sister. You can do this. You are loved. xo

  3. babe, i totally hear you. and i’ve been where you’ve been. i mean that! but you WILL come through it. you have to trust that the love others have for you can keep you strong. you just have to hold on, and keep being real and writing it out – in just a little while, you’ll look back and see how hard it was and that you got through it. i believe in you! xo

  4. I have been where you are. More than once. You will come out of this, and back into the light. Just keep holding on. Hold on.

    And keep writing. Screw readers or potential employers. Writing keeps you in touch with the outside, even if it’s just a little bit.

    Stay with us, please. Just a little longer.

  5. I’m there too. Only here because I don’t want my kid to grow up knowing I couldn’t hack it and I don’t want her to be raised solo from her father (my ex).

  6. Depression is a bitch. An evil, soul-sucking, mind-f*cking bitch. I know that sliding feeling all too well, and the dying accidentally thing is something I ponder all too often.

    I hope your med changes start to kick in. In the mean time, I wish you peace. There are a lot of people who get it and who will be pulling for you to come thru the other side. Be gentle with yourself.

  7. I know so much how this feels. Thank you for writing it. Keep writing. Keep holding on. It will get better. It will, it will. You just have to keep telling yourself that until you believe it.

  8. I believe, like many others, you will come through this. I only know some of the adversity you have overcome and I feel certain you can donor again. I will acknowledge openly it sucks and it’s horrible and painful and difficult, but YOU, Leah, can do it. I know I will be Herr with a hand extended for you to hold onto or help pull, should you need one. You are loved and other people are here too.

  9. I slip in and out of this hell, too, and have been since I was a little kid. I’m fighting it right now, too.
    Thanks for writing this, Leah, and please keep fighting. Med changes can be terrible, but finding the right combo and levels is worth the fight.

  10. ding dang, i am cycling too. i figured it was due to some life changes i am going through. maybe it’s the weather? can we blame it on that? lets!

    you are cared about, i can’t lie b/c if i do i might get drunk and if i do that then i WILL DIE. so that means i’m telling you the truth 🙂

    i realize that it does feel like a lie when you’re in that spot and i hate that almost as bad as the “ick” descending upon me b/c reality becomes elusive and slippery. it’s almost painful to have someone care about me, like little stabs even though i know it’s all coming from within me.

    stupid gremlins.
    xoxoxo

  11. Oh honey. I have been in that black hole, underwater, w/ my head stuffed under the pillow. All the things I could say, I know you already know. Don’t stop writing. Don’t stop talking to or listening to your husband. Read our comments over and over until they are imprinted in your heart. You can and will come back up. You aren’t alone and you are indeed loved. Prayers and love.

  12. “My husband says, ‘There are lots of people who want you around, and alive. I love you Leah. You are valuable and precious.’ I hear it but I can’t hear it because it feels like a lie. I didn’t think I would get married again after my divorce in 2002. I figured no one should be married to the mess that is me. But, I did marry. And he’s wonderful. And I fill his life with stress and drama and worry. In loving him I’ve ruined his life. If I really loved him, I would leave him.”

    I feel this way, too, when I go where you are. I know that place, I’ve been there too many times to count, and it SUCKS.

    I hope you find your way out. I hope the meds help. Hang on.

  13. I know that place. I am at the edge of my own hole right now. I don’t have any advice, but just a reminder that you’re not alone … a friend of a friend is with you.

  14. I’m going through a very very similar hell. I’m with someone who is amazing and all I’ve done for them is bring in stress, drama, and pain. I feel like I’m falling through a black hole too. I’ve even screamed the same things at my psychiatrist.

    Thanks for reminding me that I’m not completely alone in these feelings and please keep writing.

  15. Even when you can’t feel it, you are surrounded by love, which you well deserve. You are a precious and shining person.

  16. i can’t read the comments and what others said, because i don’t care.

    i really can tell you, i totally understand your pain. i’m crying as i type this, at work mind you. i too have been crying for days.

    this is too simple but i will say it. i will say it because i believe it so much i might get it tattooed on my arm to remind me.

    ‘this too shall pass’

    yes, it may come back in 5 minutes, 5 days or 5 years but at this moment, the moment WILL be over and the next thing will come. i have to believe it and i hope you can try to, just for this moment.

    you are totally in my thoughts.

    when i was locked up, it was like a huge stop sign was put in front of me. i think i need that again. like now.

    enough about me, this is about you. please hang in there and let this pass.. it will. <3

  17. Getting help is the bravest thing of all, and writing honestly about it is a close second. Any cat who takes a swipe at that is just mourning his own declawing.

    Peace to you.

  18. This war and the battles we fight on a day to day basis can be won. I know it can. I have to believe it can otherwise I’d give up trying to crawl out of my own abyss and just let the darkness take over again. It was easier back then. I hate to admit that, but it was. Eventually though, the light comes in and it starts to feel better than the darkness and that is my deepest and most genuine hope for you – that you find a way, with the help of those who love you and are the professionals who are caring for you – that you can start to see the light and feel it’s warmth on your face.

    I still have my battles…I’m only halfway off the battlefield, but just know that I’m here, and so are so very many others, and we’re not going anywhere. Take care of you. The rest will fall into place.

    *hugs*

  19. I know this hell far to well and wish I knew what to say but don’t, other than it’s very easy to tell from way out here that you are very much loved.

    The words ‘And I fill his life with stress and drama and worry. In loving him I’ve ruined his life. If I really loved him, I would leave him.’ resonate with me in more ways than my keyboard can convey.

  20. Your strength, which you may not see right now, is something that others have grasped onto in their dark time. Not all of us have let you know this but I want you to know I feel this way. Be well, although we are a strangers, IRL & online, you have enlightened and truly helped me during my dark times.
    Thank you.
    Best,
    R.

  21. good for you for writing this. i hope it helps a little to know that there are people out here reading it and pulling for you to hang and get to the other side of this hell.

  22. I am so proud of you. I love you so so so much! I know you worry about the boys and I and I know you worry that you make things harder..mom you make me feel what it is to be alive. I can’t say that this is worse or better, because this is all I know and I wouldn’t have it any other way with all the ups and downs and sideways turns i learn and grow. So do the boys. So do you. Mom for every time you feel pain, know I love you. For every time you feel like you are alone, know I am right here by your side. For every day you feel worthless, know that you mean the world to me. I miss you so much.

    I know that every day is a struggle; you taught me that. You also taught me to love everyone and anyone; even people who hurt me.

    I do not know anyone who has lived as much as you. And isn’t that something? You always say, “Well, this is hard..I must be learning something really really important.” Right now, that is exactly what you are doing.

    i love you i love you i love you

    Always,

    Alex

  23. I am overwhelmed right now. I have been looking for a blog that talked about what I needed someone to talk about and here you are. I have only been reading your blog for ten minutes but I will spend the rest of the day reading it. I don’t really know what I want to say but I felt a “thank god” when I read this post because I need to feel less alone in my crazy right now.

  24. I just happened to stumble across your blog because I stumbled across your Twitter feed. And I happened to do that because you were one of the people who Twitter said was “similar to” me. I never put much stock in that but I figured eh, why not check it out.

    Similar to me…oh wow, how much.

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