I wish that my body was weaker. I've been abusing myself for over a decade, and it's only in the last couple of years effects have started to show. Things are definitely progressing, it seems to be rather rapidly, but it's still frustrating. I wish my body had given up a long time ago. Cycles of heavy restricting and dehydrating, followed by periods of eating like absolute shit. Laxative abuse and medication overdosing. Sleep deprivation. Over exercising. You name it I've tried it, short of alcohol and drugs. I wish my body gave up faster. It's hard to tell how much longer my body can fight how I treat myself, I'd imagine under two years at this rate, but who's to tell. I hope it's within the calendar year.
Part of me wishes that I die peacefully in my sleep suddenly. No warning. That'd be quite nice. I wouldn't have to worry about possible sectioning or horrible conversations with family and loved ones. Another part of me hopes I have a warning, that I get told by doctors that I'm dying and there isn't much they can do. So I can have final conversations, maybe mark some things off my list. That'd be nice as well.
I just want to die in my dad's arms while he tells me it's okay and I've fought long enough. But I know that would traumatize him beyond belief and I don't want to do that to him. He fought so, so hard for me. I wish I had it in me to keep fighting for him.
Why does suicide and mental health and dying have to be so god damned lonely?
Part of me wishes that I die peacefully in my sleep suddenly. No warning. That'd be quite nice. I wouldn't have to worry about possible sectioning or horrible conversations with family and loved ones. Another part of me hopes I have a warning, that I get told by doctors that I'm dying and there isn't much they can do. So I can have final conversations, maybe mark some things off my list. That'd be nice as well.
I just want to die in my dad's arms while he tells me it's okay and I've fought long enough. But I know that would traumatize him beyond belief and I don't want to do that to him. He fought so, so hard for me. I wish I had it in me to keep fighting for him.
Why does suicide and mental health and dying have to be so god damned lonely?
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