Thursday night, I tried to kill myself.
I don’t really know why. What pushed me over the edge was money problems–I owe a lot of money to the power company, and our oil tank needs to be refilled if we’re going to have hot water–and I’m terrified my roommates hate me now because I fuck everything up. I wanted to call somebody for support, C probably, but I was too ashamed of how I fucked up again.
I just couldn’t live with being such a fuck-up anymore.
So I attempted. Obviously, it wasn’t successful, and there don’t seem to be any bad long-term effects on my body.
But psychologically…I’m a mess. I desperately want to tell somebody, but I’m too afraid. I’m pathologically terrified of being hospitalized again. I’m terrified of losing my independence. I’m terrified that people will lose their respect for me. I’m terrified I’ll lose my ability to function. I’m terrified that I’ll lose my ability to be politically active, which is pretty much all I have to hang onto anymore.
I don’t want to be alone with this, and I am.
I should be working through this. I should be figuring out how I went from okay to suicidal in literally 30 seconds. I should be apologizing to my roommates for fucking up and trying to make amends.
I’m not actively suicidal right now, but I’m not really okay, either. And I can’t imagine how I will ever be okay. There’s never going to be enough money for the things I need. I’m never going to have the level of support I think I need. I’m never going to stop being ashamed of my needs.
I want someone to hug me and tell me it’s okay, they’ll take care of me and I don’t need to worry about anything. But that’s never going to happen.
So what the hell do I do now?