Oh, gods, I’ve had enough.

I am so bloody tired of all of it. I don’t have answers for any of the questions, not solutions for the problems. And I. Am. Tired.

Yes, I get like this regularly (every three months, according to my mood tracking app), and the lead up to this point is so predictable; I stop eating properly, sleeping well, I have nightmares every night and then I become, if not someone I’m not, then someone I fight hard not to be; crude and suggestive, obsessed with sex and wanting so desperately to feel attractive, to be wanted.

I could blame it on my daddy leaving when I was a kid; on being bullied for being ugly and undateable; on only just realising at the age of forty that I don’t actually identify as female a lot of the time, which answers questions I didn’t even know I had… But that wouldn’t be honest.

Truth is, I haven’t a clue why I’m like this. I’ve always been excessively moody, PMT had always been horrible for me and those around me, but the last year has been worse. The highs are higher, the lows are lower, and there doesn’t appear to be anything in the middle.

Being suicidal is new. Being suicidal and meaning it. Planning how to do it, where and when, so I disrupt or distress as few people as possible. Wondering if I can, because I want to, but feeling such a burden of guilt at the thought of the people I’d leave behind. And then hating on myself because I’m not strong enough to just do it.

There’s a scene in Neil Gaiman’s ‘Neverwhere’ where Richard, the protagonist, is facing a trial to win a key. He finds himself on an underground platform confronted with people from his ‘real’ life (and himself) all urging him to just kill himself, despising him for being ‘too weak’ to. And that’s my head right now. I’m pushing and provoking myself constantly, trying literally to shove myself over the edge. (Richard wins the trial by NOT killing himself and proving he’s stronger than the voices, by the way…)

And this time, for the first time, I hurt someone else with my actions. I never meant to, but I did. I wish to goodness I hadn’t done what I did, nor said what I said. I wish it could be erased so I didn’t cause hurt to a really good friend, so he’s not left hurt because of me. I wish an apology was a magic wand, but it isn’t because we are grown ups, not three year olds. So all I can do is apologise one more time, from the bottom of my heart. I am so, so sorry for hurting you. It was never my intention, and if I could make it up to you I would.

So, yeah. I’m fucked up. Fed up. Tired of hurting in my body, my head and my heart.

I don’t know what the answers are, other than Keeping Calm and Carrying On, and hoping that maybe finally, things are going to change. It’s not like I’m not trying.

Anyway. That’s me, brain vomit all over cyberspace. Thank you for reading/listening/being there.

Published by kizzywiggleboo

I'm a full-time mother to three lovely aspergic kids, wife to a special bloke, and totally deranged. I also occasionally write stuff.

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