Now that last week is over, I'm going to tell you it was one of those weeks where I felt less attached to life than I otherwise might.
I was not in crisis.
More like I was exhausted, demoralized, and really not excited about being in this particular body in this particular life.
I understand very well the repercussions of exiting life the way my dad did. I know, I really do know how much it would devastate my family, and screw up my children forever.
Though my dad attempted suicide the first time when I was 11, I didn't really understand that it was an option until I myself hit a low, low point in my 30s. My entire world felt pointless. Both pointless and devastating.
I was alone, and would be alone forever.
I didn't make a plan, but I had an idea. If, in fact, everyone on the planet except me coupled up, and I was the only one still single, then, when my parents died, I could opt for suicide.
I couldn't do it before that, because it would be too cruel. But at that point, it was an option.
This thought soothed me. I had a solution. An out.
Now I don't have those thoughts in that way, because, god willing, my kids will outlive me, and I would never do to them what my dad did to us.
That's the rational part of me.
The irrational part of me sometimes crooks a finger and whispers that it would be so easy. The line between here and not here is a fine one, and sliding over it would be so quick, so painless.
Like I said, I'm not in crisis, and I wasn't last week, even though I was at a pretty low point for a sustained amount of time.
What I'm saying, I guess, is that I'm here, and I'm glad I'm here, but sometimes it's very hard. And I appreciate knowing I have a community that will support me if I reach out and ask.
Sometimes I ask. Sometimes I free fall. I am just lucky, so lucky there are people to catch me.
Big hugs and much love to all of you.