"I get knocked down, but I get up again"

It’s not often I ask myself what I want because I’m normally busy trying to look after everyone else. No one expects that of me and when I think about it in objective terms, very few people in my life ask me to care for them, but I expect it of myself. I expect 5-star service 24/7 for everyone I love and I think “Who could love them as much as I do? No one!” so I give out 100% of myself ALL THE TIME.

It’s fucking exhausting.

Once in a while though – usually on the eve of my birthday, I’ll ask myself “what do I want?” and once that year – just on my birthday – I’ll go for it. I will usually spend the day on my own and have a party/get together with people I love that evening.

Now that I’m seriously weighing up suicide, I thought it would be a good time to ask myself “What do I want?”

REALLY.

What do I REALLY want?

Not because someone expects it.

Not to impress people.

Not to answer so that no one judges me or argues with me.

Just simply – what do I want?

I want a rest.

That’s all I’ve wanted all year, I think.

I would love to have the money to rent out a beautiful little place away from the city – somewhere in Yallingup by the beach. I want to sleep listening to the waves. I want to be able to walk to a town centre and get breakfast. I want to read books. I don’t want to do any housework. I just want to be. I want to walk to the beach and listen to the waves all day. Just sit and listen. Maybe dip my toes in. Maybe dip my whole body in and shiver and giggle and get used to the temperature as the waves push and pull me and maybe then…MAYBE THEN…I might begin to heal.

I think the closest I’ll realistically get to what I want (and money is a key factor here…ie; I don’t have a cent and I can’t keep expecting Alun to pay for everything) is to go back to a Private Psych ward in hospital.

I need to go back to Hospital.

I know this because left to my own devices, I’ll be dead by tomorrow night.

I worry for Alun. I worry he’ll be alone and he’ll suffer and struggle without me around.

But I guess I have to weigh up a few weeks of discomfort and not being able to see me a few days a week when I’m in hospital or the heartache of not seeing me at all…unless he goes to visit my grave site. Or would I be cremated like my Dad was? I definitely want my organs donated.

And that is literally it. I lost my fucking Dad this year. I got bullied, pushed around, CONSTANTLY FIRED from job to job and I kept going. This has been the WORST year of my entire life and I’ve kept going.

I kept taking the hits and kept moving. Lost a job due to Michelle lying about me in February. I kept going. Lost my Dad in June. Kept going. Lost more jobs, kept going. Natasha impersonated me and lost me another job, I kept going. The pest control people didn’t remove dead rats but DID put a whole through our fucking ceiling. I kept going. More jobs, more lies from recruitment agents, more bullying, more confusion, more hurt…I kept going.

And today, I’ve just had enough. I need you to understand thought that this is not a choice to give up – I literally have NOTHING LEFT to give. I’m at the end of my rope. I can’t go on like this – on empty. I can’t get back up from the last hit. I’m all out of juice.

I hope I can get back into hospital. I really do.