Day Nine: Of Water, Wine, and Siren Songs (part 3a)

****Note: This entry contains very intense mentions of suicide (non-graphic). Please read with caution if you are triggered by these subjects.

It is hard to believe that it is the end of June, and yet, it seems to have gone on forever. It is so hot and humid outside, much too hot to go out and play unless there is a swimming pool or sprinkler to keep you cool. The older girls are restless and have been all week. They miss the activity of playing with their cousin E-beth and have been wanting to go visit "Aunt" Sif and swim with her at the pool at her apartment complex. Frankly, I could do with a nice long visit with my best friend too. Sif and I have been texting and calling each other all week. She and her son Raffie have been swimming a lot lately and we have a standing invitation to come over. We could have gone earlier in this week, but it takes a huge amount of effort to get all four of us ready to go over there and my energy has been seriously lacking since Balinda and E-beth left last Saturday morning.

It is Friday morning though and I have been promising the girls all week long, so I fire off a text to Sif, asking her about a swimming date this afternoon. I don't expect an immediate text back as she is likely busy with Raffie, so I set it aside, open my laptop and reach for my cup of coffee. The steaming hot, sweet, creamy drink warms me and for the briefest of moments, the darkness that has been my companion recedes a little. Then the moment evaporates and the numb ache grips me all over again. It was all I could do to drag myself out of bed this morning. I haven't been sleeping or really eating much at all. My weight has dropped almost 40 pounds in the last three and a half months and most days, if I eat at all, it's one small meal in the evening. I stopped counting calories with my phone app about three weeks ago just before our trip to the beach. I realised that my daily intake was so low (less than 500 calories most days) that if I kept focusing on it, I might just calorie count myself into an eating disorder. Pendragon told me it was a wise decision and pointed out that I had plenty to manage without adding that on top of it. I wouldn't even be weighing myself anymore if I had not noticed such a dramatic change in the way my clothes are fitting these days. I have long worn the same plus size clothes, but now they are much looser than they used to be. I realised this one day when I had to visit the ladies room rather urgently and forgot that I was wearing blue jeans. I shoved my pants down and realized when I went to pull them back up that I had not even needed to unbutton or unzip them. My face looks thinner in the mirror and my skin more pale and wan, as though I am wasting away with some illness. But then I guess I am. This depressive episode has been so intense that I am seeing Pendragon weekly (instead of every other week or once a month) and have been since late April; however I have already seen him this week and must wait until Tuesday for my next appointment. It is Friday and Tuesday seems like forever away.

I turn on my computer and pull up my email and Facebook. There is nothing new or interesting in any of it, so I make my way over to a support website for people who are struggling with mental illness like I am. It has a place for leaving messages for others, discussing topics related to mental illness, and reaching out for support and help. There is also a chat feature that allows you to talk with other people in real time. I open the chat window and log in. There are not many people here this morning and I know none of them. They say hello and then go back to their conversation. I feel suddenly even more alone than before and the darkness in my mind goes darker. I can't do this anymore. This hurts so much. I want to die. It would be so easy to just fade away. I could take those Xanax with that vodka based homemade vanilla extract and I know where an X-acto blade is. Two central nervous system depressants and a backup just to be sure. Yes. That will work....but I can't do this. I can't. But I can't bear this either. Oh God, please help me. Please. Please. If I could just cry...just release all this madness, escape from these dark thoughts and all the anguish I feel. Please. I glance up at the image of the Divine Mercy above our sofa and the crucifix above the mantle and the pain is so heavy and thick, that these things that normally bring comfort and peace elicit no feelings at all. Nothing. There is just nothing.

After some time, my older girls are clamouring for lunch, so I put the baby in her high chair and make their lunch. My hands automatically go through the motions of washing grapes, opening yogurt cups and string cheese packages, pouring fish shaped cheesy crackers onto plates, and filling lidded cups with water, but I am miles away in my mind. I automatically reply ("Mmhmm," "Okay,") to their innocent chatter without really hearing it. They settle into their chairs and out of habit, I lead the blessing, but it may as well be gibberish for the sense that it makes to me. There is no comfort or peace in this familiar ritual and the words that accompany it.

As they start on their lunch, I pour myself a diet soda and check the location of the homemade extract, pills, and the blade. I don't know when I will do it, but the plan is crystalising in my head. Even as it does, I look at my three beautiful daughters and my heart wrenches. How can I do this to them? To Gray? Poor Gray...oh Gray, please forgive me for this. Please forgive me for leaving you. I am so so sorry. By all rights, with the emotions that are flooding me as I think of saying goodbye and leaving all those I love most behind to grieve and deal with this mess I have made, I ought to be crying so hard that I am collapsed in a heap in the middle of the kitchen floor. Instead, I am in such anguish and distress, with no way to let go of it that I feel an actual physical ache in my neck, shoulders and chest. My arms and legs feel like lead. I consider calling Pendragon, but dismiss this idea because it will involve talking to a myriad of people before leaving a message for him and then having to wait for him to call me back. I don't have the energy necessary to jump through all those hoops. I need this to end now. I can't bear it for the rest of the day.

(Click here for the continuation of this entry in part 3b.)