Once Z got back in the car, I pulled out of the gas station and drove like a maniac swerving here and there just to get home as quickly as I could. I went straight to my room, changed, washed my face and went to bed. I didn’t wake up till four hours later.
I was not embarrassed. I am way beyond that. But I was sorry for Z being caught in that situation when I really needed that moment of release. I don’t like making her feel uneasy. But I couldn’t help feeling overwhelmed by anger and frustration over some of the things I haven’t been able to handle very well these few days.
My asthma came back. The cold air at night and the cold water I have to bathe in in the morning is not helping me. I have the Ventolin Evohaler to help me, but the coughing was getting worse. I have trouble sleeping. It’s been more than two weeks since it started. I finally went to the clinic yesterday.
My cellphone was stolen again. By the same motherf*cker. How do I know? I know. I feel violated. Having to work with him makes it even worse.
I have other very personal things that’s been percolating in my head these few weeks that I am having trouble to overcome. I have no one to talk about them with. I have no way of helping someone very important to me. I couldn’t help when that person is in need. What kind of person does that make me?
I haven’t been sleeping well the past few weeks. All these thoughts haunts me. It makes me feel rotten inside. I can’t shake them off like I normally could with other issues of my life.
Happiness is a choice? Not when some of the things in your life is out of control and each day brings with it more and more proof that you are not worth the life you have and the easiest way out is that Exit on your wrist.
Note to self :
Life is never easy. You know you wouldn’t like it as much if it was, right? This will all come to pass and everything will be all right. In the end, it will always be all right. Everything will fall into place. You do want to be able to look back and be proud, knowing you handled them well, don’t you?
I have an inkling of what’s wrong with me. But that’s all self-diagnosis so far. And although I do have suicidal tendencies, I have enough self-worth to understand that no matter how low I fall, there is always hope for me to climb back up. And I keep coming back. I tell my kids here, suicide is never the answer because I believe in that. I strongly believe in that. I’ll never do it. I hope.
But what’ll happen when work doesn’t cut it anymore? When those who depend on me doesn’t matter anymore? When eternity in hell will not be so bad anymore? When it’s okay for me to give up…What then?