I did a stupid thing

Below is a serious post from a woman blogger in pain and above it is my comment to her:
I’m so sorry you are living this. I know you feel completely alone and isolated. I’m so proud of you for telling your story and sharing what no one wants to say. What we are so scared to share. This is the TRUTH about chronic illness and chronic pain and the gravity of it.
You are giving people a voice. I’m so scared you will stop. I don’t know if you believe in faith, but I AM PRAYING FOR YOU in this moment in time. That you know how important you are. That you hear me tell you that your words and your pain do not isolate you, it INCLUDES you with women who live it and need your courage to say what you are saying.
That we don’t want life to end, we want the pain to end. We want the fear to end. Insurance for a future life- of this ONE life. I could never convince you of that concrete insurance that your body will feel better.
But I can promise you that chronic illness, pain, depression: they are liars, liars, LIARS!
Tomorrow anything can change. Please, I hope you are here for it.

Another Hope Entirely

Saturday night, I overdosed.  And here it is Tuesday morning, and I’m still barely able to function.  I can’t spell basic words without a lot of thought, and I nearly pass out when I get up to go to the bathroom.

I’m not sure if I wanted to kill myself or not.  I was at least half-dissociated, so I don’t even know how many pills I took.  (Or, for that matter, which one[s] of us took them.)

I think I wanted either to die or to make someone notice that something is very very wrong.  But I ended up not accomplishing either of those things.  So I feel like a failure in every possible way.

I feel like I NEED someone to take care of me.  To hug me and tell me it’s all going to be okay, to listen when I’m freaking out, to take care of all the…

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