ronicavee1001-blog
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Because it hurt....
Staring at the card with the 1-800 number she thought about what she would say to them. She just needed a psychological evaluation or crisis intervention. She couldn't sound too desperate even if she was. She hated for anyone to know she needed help. She hated revealing her vulnerability. Depression was eating her soul alive. She couldn't stop her obsessive behavior or invasive thought of suicide. It hung over her head like a cloud and she couldn't see through the storm to know where she even stood. Her body ached with fatigue like a balloon that lost it's helium. She dialed the number and when the woman answered "how can I help" She said "I need outpatient services." The woman said "do you need a list of providers." She replied that she didn't really know. The woman said "what kind of services do you need?" She told her she wasn't sure and started to cry. She told the woman she just felt like she wanted to die. The words "I want to die," caused the woman to connect her with a clinician. He said "Hello, my name is Mike, can I ask a series of safety questions?" She knew he had to make sure wasn't at risk of harming herself or others. She assured him she didn't want to REALLY kill herself. She told him how she had tried to slit her wrists the year her Dad died but that she stopped. He asked why she didn't cut herself. She said "because it hurt," then she laughed at the irony of not wanting to feel pain while she simultaneously wanted to die. He said it was healthy to feel pain and he was glad she could find humor in the moment of crisis and he congratulated her on deciding not to go through with cutting her wrists with a razor blade. She thought deeply about how intense her life had been leading up to this very day. She had a plan this time too but she didn't tell him she thought about turning the gas burners on so she could let the house fill with gas while she slept. If she told him that; she would have to be admitted to an inpatient facility for psychiatric care. The only thing that kept her from it was her cats. They would die too and she didn't think that was fair to them. She knew suicide wasn't the answer but it didn't stop her brain from telling her she should. Suicide is a permanent fix to her temporary problems. She stood there staring out her window thinking about all the positive possibilities she still had to live for and she got dressed and went about her day. -that's what she said in haste
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But you are the love of my life. The light in the dark. The sun in the sky. I love you. So please don’t leave me. Not now. Not ever.
Do not fall in love with a poet. They make poems out of sad endings. Especially about your sad story. you’ll know the right thing to do was to leave but her poems will make you regret that you did. // ck.writes (via ck-writings)
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