Wednesday, June 22, 2016


I had a list of things I wanted to write about. I've been up to shenanigans. John has thrown like 8 curveballs this month.

But all I can think about is how much I don't want to exist anymore.

I have my THIRD sleep study later this week. Weeks ago I had to come off Prozac for this sleep study.

And I wish I was dead.

I'm not a good mom. I'm not a good employee. I can't maintain relationships, friendly or romantic. I feel helpless and hopeless. I don't want this life anymore.

The next person to tell me that things will get better, they'll get better when I can take Prozac again this weekend.

But no. That's not the case at all.

I've reached out.
I've taken the meds.
I've seen therapists.
I struggle and try. And I have. Every Goddamn Day. since I was 16.
I'm so tired.
I get up and show up. I graduated from college. I got two degrees. I've held a job with the same firm for 7 years. I've raised a child.
Don't you dare tell me that I need to hold on.
I have been exhausted and miserable for YEARS.
Motherfucking YEARS.
I don't want to do this anymore.

Yes, sure. My brain is a dick and telling me these things.
But guess what?
It always has and it always will.
My brain chemistry is wrong.
I'm put together wrong.
I'm not supposed to be.

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