Not sure if this belongs in suicide or recovery because I don't know which thing I want so I'm putting it here.
(Alert: woman parts shit)
I had been having an almost constant period for months. So I went to the doctor and got an ultrasound and I have bleeding cysts on my ovaries. The doctor was all "whatever" about it, because my bloodwork and endometrial biopsy were normal.
So he says wait 8 weeks and repeat ultrasound to see if they go away on their own.
The thing is, I'm also having chronic hives and other "systemic" symptoms related to hormones and I am screaming inside because I think that there's a really good chance that this is an estrogen-producing tumor and that is why I'm having all these symptoms of excess estrogen and swollen lymph nodes. I wish the doctors would listen to me.
Okay, so there seems to be a good chance that this is ovarian cancer. I'm waiting for follow-ups. I'm going to seek a second opinion.
This is complicated because I've wanted to die for 30 years. Maybe I still do. Maybe it's okay.
When I feel happy, I start freaking out that the handful of things I like about my life are going to go away and I have to leave my husband here all alone.
Then, when the reality of my life hits me -- the mediocrity, the burden I put on my husband because I've never had good health and this isn't our first rodeo with my stupid body, all of the failed career aspirations, failed friendships, the fact that I am basically isolated from everyone now because of my garbage personality -- I realize that probably me dying this way is good.
I don't know how to feel about any of this.
On one hand, yeah, I am really tired of life. I'm exhausted. I've had almost non-stop bad luck and trauma since I was in preschool. I don't want it anymore. I want to check out. I'm tired of having a personality disorder that I can't escape and a body with weird problems that I can't escape. I'm tired of needing things I can never get because i can't identify them. I'm tired of feeling empty. Maybe it is for the best. Maybe it really is time for me to go. I have not felt that I'd live past 50 anyway.
I can't help but think that ... yeah, when I feel good for those rare moments, when my broken brain lets me feel my husband's love....I'll start freaking out again. Death will seem scary and unwanted. Maybe that's just my survival instinct. Maybe survival instinct is what makes me want to seek a second opinion and do all these medical follow-ups. I have a choice now -- do I let nature take it's course or do I fight it? And what if it's not cancer? At least then I didn't waste money on medical bills.
All practicality says I should die. Biology says I shouldn't have even made it this far as it is.
It's okay. Maybe I need to accept fate. Maybe typing this out helped me figure out that I do want to accept that this is the end. Maybe it's okay.
My friend died of cancer in 2017. He was a fellow depressed/suicidal person. When I asked him how he felt knowing that he had 1 year to live, but had been suicidal all his life he said he wasn't afraid of dying. He was just broken up inside because he couldn't bear the thought of leaving his wife and daughters behind. Now that he's gone, his wife is doing all right. She mourned him for a year or two...then she started dating again. I never liked her. Her daughters are okay, maybe. I'm not sure. My husband will be okay. He's strong. Much stronger than me. He has put up with me for this long, hasn't he?
I think about my friend who died...I sometimes wish I could send him a letter to the afterlife telling him at least he checked out before COVID-19. He might have lost his brand new job anyway because of lockdowns. He was a musician. I miss his music. I miss him because he was a good person. A way better person than I am.
(Alert: woman parts shit)
I had been having an almost constant period for months. So I went to the doctor and got an ultrasound and I have bleeding cysts on my ovaries. The doctor was all "whatever" about it, because my bloodwork and endometrial biopsy were normal.
So he says wait 8 weeks and repeat ultrasound to see if they go away on their own.
The thing is, I'm also having chronic hives and other "systemic" symptoms related to hormones and I am screaming inside because I think that there's a really good chance that this is an estrogen-producing tumor and that is why I'm having all these symptoms of excess estrogen and swollen lymph nodes. I wish the doctors would listen to me.
Okay, so there seems to be a good chance that this is ovarian cancer. I'm waiting for follow-ups. I'm going to seek a second opinion.
This is complicated because I've wanted to die for 30 years. Maybe I still do. Maybe it's okay.
When I feel happy, I start freaking out that the handful of things I like about my life are going to go away and I have to leave my husband here all alone.
Then, when the reality of my life hits me -- the mediocrity, the burden I put on my husband because I've never had good health and this isn't our first rodeo with my stupid body, all of the failed career aspirations, failed friendships, the fact that I am basically isolated from everyone now because of my garbage personality -- I realize that probably me dying this way is good.
I don't know how to feel about any of this.
On one hand, yeah, I am really tired of life. I'm exhausted. I've had almost non-stop bad luck and trauma since I was in preschool. I don't want it anymore. I want to check out. I'm tired of having a personality disorder that I can't escape and a body with weird problems that I can't escape. I'm tired of needing things I can never get because i can't identify them. I'm tired of feeling empty. Maybe it is for the best. Maybe it really is time for me to go. I have not felt that I'd live past 50 anyway.
I can't help but think that ... yeah, when I feel good for those rare moments, when my broken brain lets me feel my husband's love....I'll start freaking out again. Death will seem scary and unwanted. Maybe that's just my survival instinct. Maybe survival instinct is what makes me want to seek a second opinion and do all these medical follow-ups. I have a choice now -- do I let nature take it's course or do I fight it? And what if it's not cancer? At least then I didn't waste money on medical bills.
All practicality says I should die. Biology says I shouldn't have even made it this far as it is.
It's okay. Maybe I need to accept fate. Maybe typing this out helped me figure out that I do want to accept that this is the end. Maybe it's okay.
My friend died of cancer in 2017. He was a fellow depressed/suicidal person. When I asked him how he felt knowing that he had 1 year to live, but had been suicidal all his life he said he wasn't afraid of dying. He was just broken up inside because he couldn't bear the thought of leaving his wife and daughters behind. Now that he's gone, his wife is doing all right. She mourned him for a year or two...then she started dating again. I never liked her. Her daughters are okay, maybe. I'm not sure. My husband will be okay. He's strong. Much stronger than me. He has put up with me for this long, hasn't he?
I think about my friend who died...I sometimes wish I could send him a letter to the afterlife telling him at least he checked out before COVID-19. He might have lost his brand new job anyway because of lockdowns. He was a musician. I miss his music. I miss him because he was a good person. A way better person than I am.
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