07 July, 2016

Catching Up

Trigger Warning:
This post contains talk of suicide and depression.

Today (yesterday since it's after midnight now) has been a very rough day. I've felt the world grind to a halt, or so it felt...

These past weeks, knowing that I may be losing everything I hold dear, have left me in a broken state of fear.

Rereading my letter from Social Security, I found that during my appeal process, I might not be able to continue receiving my paychecks, as I waited longer than 10 days to notify them of my intentions, despite the fact that later in the letter says I have 60 days to respond.

The language on my first read had me thinking that the 10 day cut off was to continue Medicare coverage alone, as opposed to Payments as well. So, now I sit, unsure as to what is happening,  hoping my previous lawyer can help guide me through this insane process.

I'm not going to lie, I've thought about suicide. I've though about how to clear myself from this existence, hell, I'm not going to lie, I even attempted recently, only backing out as the images of loved ones flashed before my darkening gaze. It is a terrifying experience. I am losing my mind over the fear of losing the life I've worked so hard to create with Brittney.

If I lose my benefits, we lose our home, our debt will fall behind and become delinquent again, except this time, there isn't much,  if any, safety net to fall back on. Last time my sanity broke and we lost it all, we had our mothers. We started at my mom's, then after I went inpatient for the second time, Brittney lived with her mother, and I stayed with mine. They were some trying times.

Now, four-ish years later, with my debt consolidation loan in place, new debt acquired,  and a better roof over our head, we're entering a repeat of what happened before. Neither of us are sure what will come of this appeal, and while we are trying to stay positive, my depressive mind is going south fast.

Britt and I talked extensively today about how I am feeling, and how I've been retaining too much emotional pain. Discussing in depth how scared we are and how lost we feel. It was hard for me to let myself cry in front of my wife, but once I cracked, my face was pouring fluid like a leaky bag of pancake batter.

All in all, I think the attempts are behind me, as I long to stay out of the hospital, however, the latter isn't off the table yet. I'd rather suck up my pride and check myself in for treatment, than say a final goodbye.

Here's the one problem I have though. I hate talking. My voice, my topics, my emotions, it all angers me out loud. I hate trying to explain how my mind jumps to thoughts of sadness and death. How my instinct is to pray I die, rather than find a viable solution to my problems. I don't know why the voice in my head treats me like it does, but articulating those emotions and events are seemingly impossible with words alone.

Yet all anyone ever wants to do is talk. They want to try and help me find a solution. Which, is all well and good, except the fact that looking someone in the eyes and admitting my failures fills me with so much shame that I end up worse than I was before. It is one of the main reasons I stopped visiting my Psychologist. Not to mention she was costing me anywhere from $40-$60 per month, on a $900 budget. It doesn't sound like a lot, but it is when living expenses kept us so strapped for so long.

So now, Brittney and I started finding a groove of comfort. One with myself thinking less morbidly, practicing hobbies and crafts on my own time to keep my mind busy, and even trying to help my mother with her problems on occasion. Britt, picking up more hours to help clear our debt faster, and supply us with a more comfortable living environment. Yet, here we are. Falling back down the spiral staircase out of Hell, tumbling faster and faster to the possibility of a desolate future that I'm not sure I'll be able to recover from.

I love you all, which is why I'm trying to be so honest, but if I disappear,  I am either in the hospital, or worse. Let's hope that neither of those outcomes happen, and that life can just retain the value we've created for ourselves since the start of this mental health journey some years ago.

Seriously though, please don't call the authorities after reading this. This isn't a plea for help. I'm not currently at risk this very moment. If I do become a risk to myself or others, I already have a stable plan of action to receive the help I would need to remain safe. The best thing for me now is loving support of a non-triggering nature.

Thank you for reading.
Goodnight my loves.


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