Venting I had a plan

[Sundayafternoon]

I had a plan.

I accidentally totaled my car on the 2nd of January. My month long Medical Leave commenced the following day.

This also commenced a month of:

1. Random crying spells,
   
2. Avoiding anyone that still cared to called to check on me (very few, as I started the process of distancing myself, with real intent to CTB, back in August of '18)
3. intense isolation/loneliness
   
4. Whining to my one confidant, with much guilt, as this person has their own issues to deal with.
5. Sporadic, but very disturbing bouts of paranoia
6. Strong memory recall. This means more crying, dissociation/derealization,
   
7. Only subsiding off of alcohol, klonopin, Addy, and the occasional multi-vitiamin
8. Just overall feeling like shit

Feb 4th, I accepted it was time to go.

1. I quit my job. The anxiety of having to go back (leave my apartment and pretend to be normal) was too strong, especially without transpo.
   
2. I cried for the next 3 days about the way I left my job. I felt really guilty. But I've been feeling like the worst employee/coworker for almost 2 years now. They will be better off.
   
3. Finalized plan to ctb, leaving myself 2 to 4 weeks to adequately prepare.

The following week I felt good enough to walk up the hill to the store, check my mailbox and actually put real food into my body. A lot of my not eating is due to food constantly getting stuck somewhere in my nasal cavity, causing throat and face/head pain. Not fun.

Anyway, not more than 10 minutes after having settled down to eat my home cooked burger and fries, I smell smoke. I go to the window. The fire trucks were rounding the corner. The smell of smoke was strong, still It looked far away enough that I shouldn't have to leave my place.

I was wrong. I am now "kind of homeless and unemployed with no car. My host is losing patience with the situation, (rightfully) and I am falling to pieces.

I have spent the last couple of weeks, drinking vodka and nyquil, crying, eating mostly only melotonin and Trazodone, in someone else's house. While not completely necessary, I feel better confined to the room I've been permitted to sleep in. With my cat.

What's the sense in getting up to watch TV downstairs or in the next room? I'll still only be watching TV.
Just as in life, all we do is move from section of the waiting room to the next.
I'm looking for the door.

 

[DownInaHole]

Would you rather exit or have a better life?

 

[Redt2go]

Damn so much fucked up shit

 

[Kyrok]

I look back and suffer thoughts about how miserable I've always been and the pointlessness of my trudging through life. Life could have been better if, somehow, I had an ounce of luck. But given what it was, I should have ctb decades ago.

A failed plan is not a "sign" that things will get better. It is just the same old shit that life keeps on bringing.