I started this blog because it was one place that I could be heartbreakingly real with my emotions and thoughts, something I haven’t learned to do in my non-blog life. Last weekend I realized I have been very hesitant to be honest on here about something that I haven’t even told my counselor and don’t plan to. I am having a hard time coming clean with the truth because I have realized that there are some out there who really care and I don’t want to worry or cause any pain to someone else. But, in worrying about others I have shut down my voice and it has taken 48 years to finally find my voice.
I have been having suicidal thoughts for the last few weeks without a means to carry out the way I “need” to. Since a serious attempt two years ago my husband doles out my meds, one at a time. I really think all these thoughts are a security issue in that I don’t have plans to actually kill myself. Really, I don’t know what I actually have plans for. Anyway, a few days ago, I started pretending to take a certain medication and then hiding them away somewhere. This certain medication is one that I researched two years ago and if mixed with alcohol it is lethal. I do not have any plans on taking the lethal dose or mixing it with alcohol. But, I guess I am holding on to it for such a day as I feel a need to have them.
I know this isn’t safe or sane. I know that the 14 year old in me is the one driven to escape pain, but I have been actively helping her have preparations available that my counselor and husband have helped me see are “dangerous” for me. Certain music takes me away but always makes me suicidal. Well, I have the music, now the drugs just in case.
Before today the plan was to take them next week but now the plan is to wait until my son comes to visit and I hear about his overnight stay with my dad (my abuser).
Okay, so now I have been honest with someone at least.