Yesterday I thought about suicide.
Not the first time.
But the first time in a long time.
My brain has been good to me lately. Life has been good. I am not complaining. Which is why yesterday was so bad.
The day started off well enough. Then midday, a text. A trigger. And then the slow spiral into despair.
I did reach out. Something I rarely do. And now I know why. There was nothing anyone said, or could have said, or didn’t say that would have helped. I realize now that my coping mechanism of hiding is the best solution for me. It shouldn’t be, but it is. Words are not enough. And I don’t have the option of company. Not that anyone would offer anyway.
Something else I realized.
Today I am still under a dark cloud, but I’m home now for the night. I can read and eat chocolate and go to bed. And hopefully forget that I’m all alone. For a few hours anyway.
At least I’m not thinking about not waking up.