Til Death

Almost two years ago I planned my suicide. I’d been depressed since I was 13 and dealt with suicidal ideation since 18 or 19. I’m not exactly sure. A while, at this point. The idea of being done with the effort of life, of being at complete peace, really appealed to me.

What always stopped me from even thinking too deeply into it was guilt. Mostly about my mom. I knew she would be so sad. But a couple years ago I was at a breaking point. Was I really supposed to live an entire life I didn’t want for someone else? I was supposed to suffer just to keep my mom happy? I didn’t even ask to be here.

Depression has affected many if not all of my relationships to some extent. I’m not entirely sure why Dakota is with me. It has to be easier to be with someone that isn’t like this. Someone that doesn’t fuck up your day with their moods. Someone that doesn’t tell you they don’t believe you love them. Someone that doesn’t overanalyze certain things and can’t let them go or heal, even after years.

A couple years ago I begged Dakota to let me kill myself. I needed his blessing. Then the guilt would go away. I needed him to tell me it was okay. That I was in pain and I deserved not to be. But he never did. At its worst I would ask him multiple times a day. I would ask him why he wanted me to be unhappy. Why I was supposed to be like this forever?

It got to a point it never had before. It got to the point where I made a plan. Not just fantasizing about eternal peace, but actually laying out the steps to get there. My biggest concern was that I didn’t want anyone I knew to find the body. I was going to do it at a hotel and leave the cleaning crew a big tip. Also, I was going to be in the bath tub. Hopefully easy to clean.

I debated whether telling my loved ones I was gone would be better than going “missing.” Is that shred of hope they’ll eventually find me more cruel? I don’t know.

Since my daughter was born I’ve been happier than ever. I finally had all the love in my life I wanted. My baby, my husband, and my boyfriend that came into my life unexpectedly. I felt smothered by love. I felt that every moment of every day was wonderful and meaningful and amazing. I thought I had finally made it to where I needed to be. Maybe the last 15 years were leading to this life and all of the pain was worth it.

But over the last month I have realized that happiness was unsustainable. And that worries me a lot. Am I doomed to always fall back into this hole? And will I bring my loved ones down with me? I can’t. Not my daughter, at least. Dakota and Ryan are adults, they can make their own decisions, they are allowed to abandon a sinking ship. But I can’t let my daughter sink. I can’t be broken around her.

I’m writing this at 1am, hoping somehow something will take care of it for me so I don’t have the guilt. Maybe a freak accident. A car crash. Cancer? Doesn’t really matter to me. Maybe I’ll get back to where I was a month ago. Maybe it will last this time. Or maybe at this point my entire existence comes down to the fact killing myself would fuck up my child so I can’t bring myself to do it.