Apologies in advance for the length of this post. But I know my days are numbered, and I just want someone to know my story before I go.
I've been married for 8.5 years. We were a blended family and from pretty much day one, I knew his kids needed help. I kept pointing out issues and posing suggestions and he still didn't do anything. His youngest has severe emotional issues that were taxing to everyone involved, and I plead with him for YEARS to get him into therapy because I was worried. He never listened to me, but then when the school started contacting my husband almost daily because of these emotional outbursts (and shortly after that, his other kids found writings of suicidal ideation scribbled in one of his books), he immediately put him into therapy and started him on antidepressants. I felt so overlooked and undervalued. When I say it, he doesn't care, but when the school says it and his son says it, all the sudden 'SuperDad' leaps into action?? One of his older kids shows alarming signs of sociopathy (finds it amusing to humiliate/emotionally torture his siblings, hits/terrifies my dogs, lies about others & blame shifts to avoid accountability, etc.) and he still does nothing. He gets just as frustrated with their behavior as I did, but rather than parenting them consistently, he allows things to reach a boiling point, screams at them until they're sobbing, then feels guilty so he showers them with niceties; which only furthers this pattern. Outside of parenting/kid issues, we had a great relationship. He was my best friend. I thought that I had finally 'made it' and found a beautiful life for myself, but looking back on it all and seeing where this path has led me, I wish I had never met him at all. Before I met him, I had made it a rule for myself that I would never date anyone with children. We talked for weeks before we met in person, and it wasn't until that first date that he told me he had three kids. I wish I had stuck to my rule, but the connection we had was immediate & intense. So I told myself that we could make it work. I told myself that it might be a struggle, but that it would be worth it. I was so incredibly wrong…
I had been begging him for years to just please help me parent his kids, and we've had several breakups or near breakups because I had reached the end of my rope. Every time, he would apologize profusely and promise to change, but that change never lasted more than a month. After another incident with his kids and their bullshit, I told him I was done. I moved back in with my mom, who is also dealing with health issues and is losing her house because the landlords are selling it after 32 years of her living there. It seemed significant to me that both mine & my mother's lives as we knew it were disintegrating at the same time. I figured it was a sign that we needed each other, that it was a fresh start for both of us. So I lived in her house and busted my ass taking care of EVERYTHING for the three weeks she was in the hospital. When she finally came home, I asked her to make some very small adjustments so that my 2 Great Danes, my 12 year old son and I could coexist under the same roof. She refused. She would rather have what she wants than to adapt to what I needed. And some of the changes I was asking her to make were in HER benefit. With her health issues, it was unsafe for her to navigate stairs, so I suggested that we move her computer downstairs. That way, me, my son, and my dogs could have the upstairs, she wouldn't have to strain herself and risk injury, and I wouldn't have to empty her commode that she kept upstairs. But she would rather that the 4 of us be confined to one small room & I'd have to clean up her waste than to simply move the contents of her sitting room. I was willing to move everything for her, by myself, but she only said 'I like my room where it is'. She commiserated with me about how messed up it was that my husband would put his & his boys' wants ahead of my basic needs, then turned around and did the very same.
There are so many more details and nuance that help give full context, but the short version is that I've wasted so much of my life putting my own needs aside to try and help my family, but all they do is take and take. I don't ask for much; and I get that what I was asking for might not necessarily have been *easy*, but it was pretty straightforward. But I've learned that I don't matter enough. Everyone else's desires have always trumped my needs. His kids ended up hating me because I had basic expectations of them that my husband didn't hold them to. I came back to my marital home temporarily after things fell apart with my mother, thinking that I could at least have the comfort of familiarity while I figure my life out. I explained to his kids why I was back, and they made jokes about my mother falling down the stairs while I told my story through tears. He never said anything to them about that. Even though I realize that his kids aren't at fault for his lack of parenting, I hate all of them so much. Their selfish, blind, privileged personalities make me want to just CTB right in front of them in the most violent, traumatic way possible. I never would, because that's just messed up, but the fantasy of it replays in my mind almost every waking moment. They have ruined my life, and the vengeful side of me wants to hurt them back. I am not that person, though, so I'll just quietly crawl off and cease to exist.
I recently disclosed to my husband that I've been feeling extremely suicidal, and I asked him to please hide his benzos because I didn't trust myself to not consume the whole bottle and chase it with liquor. The bottle has remained in the open cabinet, and most days, he leaves the cap half on. It's like he's intentionally tempting me. It's like he wants me to do it. He asked me to share a life with him, but was too spineless to do what it takes to make it a good life (for everyone involved), yet he gets to just live life as normal and doesn't even have the balls to truly see how much I've been affected by merging my life with his. He doesn't have to find a place to live, he doesn't have to find a new job, he and his kids get to carry on like the last 3,112 days never happened.
Everyone I care about (a small handful of people) keeps telling me that it will get better, and that I just have to rebuild my life and move forward. But these people have broken me so badly that I simply do not have the spoons to rebuild with. And what's the point, anyway? Why rebuild if there's no guarantee that what I build won't be demolished by the next self absorbed person? Capitalism is fucked, so I can't even afford to rebuild on my own, and I can't trust anyone enough to build with them. The only family I have left that actually loves me in actions rather than words are my 2 Great Danes and my son. And I can't find a place to rent that will allow me to have my dogs. And even if I did, I would have to work 2.5 jobs MINIMUM, and at that point, I wouldn't have any time to spend with them. Any solution I can think of conflicts with the solution to another problem, and so I'm just trapped. I don't even have the energy left to mother my son the way I want/need to. He's better off without me here. He's so loving and kind that he tries to heal my hurt. He shouldn't have to be my emotional caretaker, but the pain that lives inside my head is so loud, so pervasive that he picks up on it anyway. That's not fair to him. He should just get to be a kid. He shouldn't have to carry his mother's burdens, even if I'm not asking him to.
I have severe ADHD, which makes normal functioning exhausting, if not outright impossible. I don't have what it takes to build a happy, healthy life for myself. I can't be here anymore, but I can't have my son knowing that I took my own life. I'm trying to figure out a means of carrying this out so that it seems like I just disappeared. How does one go about becoming a missing person? Where can I go to liberate myself so that what remains of me is never found? For transparency's sake, I am merely just pondering this out loud. I know I can't seek that advice here because it goes against the forum's guidelines. But in addition to wanting to spare my son, I also want my husband and his kids to always wonder where I am. I want them to miss me, I want them to be concerned. Maybe that makes me petty or cruel, but I'm okay with that. Their indifference to me is cruelty enough, so why shouldn't they reap what they sow? And if they knew that I CTB, that would only give them reason to resent me. They wouldn't reflect on themselves in order to see how they contributed. If life has taught me anything, it's that people only give a fuck about you if you're missing, dead, or dying. I pray fervently, constantly that the universe would inflict some fatal accident or ailment so that I don't have to do it myself, but like most prayers, it falls on deaf ears. Nobody else listens to me, why would god? I've been rewatching Breaking Bad lately just to pass the time, and I find myself infuriatingly envious of a fictional character's terminal cancer because I have to be plagued with relatively good health.
I want to go out using the IG method, because I know I deserve a peaceful, painless exit, but I don't have the finances to pull that off. And even if I did, it's a bit more complicated than I initially thought. I'll probably just end up buying a gun, even though that will leave a paper trail, and even though I know I deserve a gentler end to my story. But fuck it, at this point I'll take any exit I can manage. I'm terrified of existing any longer, but I'm equally as terrified to take myself out of here. My mother often tells me the story of how she was planning to abort me, but loved me too much to go through with it. I resent her so much for that choice. Life was an invitation that I didn't get the option to RSVP 'no' to. She was too scared to end my life, so now I'm stuck with the task. And I wish so badly that I had just ONE person that loved me enough, ONE person I trusted enough to be there with me and help me on my way out. I want someone to just be there with me and talk me back to rationality when my survival instincts kick in. I want someone to hold my hand and tell me they understand, that they love me enough to support my choice to end my suffering. I want someone to stroke my face (through the bag, I guess) and send me away with compassion and respect. I feel so alone right now, I don't want to end my journey alone, too. All I ever wanted was a family, and when I thought I had finally found one, the universe waited almost 9 years to be like 'SIKE, just kidding!' What the fuck?
I don't have anywhere to rehome my dogs, so after I'm gone, my shitty husband & his shitty kids get to keep the comfort of the only family I have left. And despite knowing the horrific influence these kids have on my son, his dad will likely allow visitation with them. It's not fair that they get to keep the best parts of my life when they're the ones who stole them from me in the first place. I'm a pretty broken person, but I've always been loving, empathetic, and selfless. And then I'm surprised when people bleed me dry. I always thought being an empath was my superpower, but it was just a weakness. I naively believed I could change the world, even if only by changing my small little corner of it. But it only served as a way for others to use me. I am not special, I am not with purpose. I believe that a house is merely a structure; that a family is what makes a place a home. And in that belief, I am currently homeless. I am emotionally homeless.
If you've read this far, bless your heart, and thank you for caring enough to hear me. I want out, I can't do this anymore. I'm so tired of seeking a love that I'm convinced doesn't actually exist. My husband's birthday is just about 2 weeks away, so I have to find a way out of here before then. I don't want anymore mornings, no more Christmases or birthdays. No more people, no more disappointment, no more days. When the shore seems so far away, and I've been battered by wave after wave, drowning just seems easier than continuing to swim. I'm tired, friends. I'm just tired.
I've been married for 8.5 years. We were a blended family and from pretty much day one, I knew his kids needed help. I kept pointing out issues and posing suggestions and he still didn't do anything. His youngest has severe emotional issues that were taxing to everyone involved, and I plead with him for YEARS to get him into therapy because I was worried. He never listened to me, but then when the school started contacting my husband almost daily because of these emotional outbursts (and shortly after that, his other kids found writings of suicidal ideation scribbled in one of his books), he immediately put him into therapy and started him on antidepressants. I felt so overlooked and undervalued. When I say it, he doesn't care, but when the school says it and his son says it, all the sudden 'SuperDad' leaps into action?? One of his older kids shows alarming signs of sociopathy (finds it amusing to humiliate/emotionally torture his siblings, hits/terrifies my dogs, lies about others & blame shifts to avoid accountability, etc.) and he still does nothing. He gets just as frustrated with their behavior as I did, but rather than parenting them consistently, he allows things to reach a boiling point, screams at them until they're sobbing, then feels guilty so he showers them with niceties; which only furthers this pattern. Outside of parenting/kid issues, we had a great relationship. He was my best friend. I thought that I had finally 'made it' and found a beautiful life for myself, but looking back on it all and seeing where this path has led me, I wish I had never met him at all. Before I met him, I had made it a rule for myself that I would never date anyone with children. We talked for weeks before we met in person, and it wasn't until that first date that he told me he had three kids. I wish I had stuck to my rule, but the connection we had was immediate & intense. So I told myself that we could make it work. I told myself that it might be a struggle, but that it would be worth it. I was so incredibly wrong…
I had been begging him for years to just please help me parent his kids, and we've had several breakups or near breakups because I had reached the end of my rope. Every time, he would apologize profusely and promise to change, but that change never lasted more than a month. After another incident with his kids and their bullshit, I told him I was done. I moved back in with my mom, who is also dealing with health issues and is losing her house because the landlords are selling it after 32 years of her living there. It seemed significant to me that both mine & my mother's lives as we knew it were disintegrating at the same time. I figured it was a sign that we needed each other, that it was a fresh start for both of us. So I lived in her house and busted my ass taking care of EVERYTHING for the three weeks she was in the hospital. When she finally came home, I asked her to make some very small adjustments so that my 2 Great Danes, my 12 year old son and I could coexist under the same roof. She refused. She would rather have what she wants than to adapt to what I needed. And some of the changes I was asking her to make were in HER benefit. With her health issues, it was unsafe for her to navigate stairs, so I suggested that we move her computer downstairs. That way, me, my son, and my dogs could have the upstairs, she wouldn't have to strain herself and risk injury, and I wouldn't have to empty her commode that she kept upstairs. But she would rather that the 4 of us be confined to one small room & I'd have to clean up her waste than to simply move the contents of her sitting room. I was willing to move everything for her, by myself, but she only said 'I like my room where it is'. She commiserated with me about how messed up it was that my husband would put his & his boys' wants ahead of my basic needs, then turned around and did the very same.
There are so many more details and nuance that help give full context, but the short version is that I've wasted so much of my life putting my own needs aside to try and help my family, but all they do is take and take. I don't ask for much; and I get that what I was asking for might not necessarily have been *easy*, but it was pretty straightforward. But I've learned that I don't matter enough. Everyone else's desires have always trumped my needs. His kids ended up hating me because I had basic expectations of them that my husband didn't hold them to. I came back to my marital home temporarily after things fell apart with my mother, thinking that I could at least have the comfort of familiarity while I figure my life out. I explained to his kids why I was back, and they made jokes about my mother falling down the stairs while I told my story through tears. He never said anything to them about that. Even though I realize that his kids aren't at fault for his lack of parenting, I hate all of them so much. Their selfish, blind, privileged personalities make me want to just CTB right in front of them in the most violent, traumatic way possible. I never would, because that's just messed up, but the fantasy of it replays in my mind almost every waking moment. They have ruined my life, and the vengeful side of me wants to hurt them back. I am not that person, though, so I'll just quietly crawl off and cease to exist.
I recently disclosed to my husband that I've been feeling extremely suicidal, and I asked him to please hide his benzos because I didn't trust myself to not consume the whole bottle and chase it with liquor. The bottle has remained in the open cabinet, and most days, he leaves the cap half on. It's like he's intentionally tempting me. It's like he wants me to do it. He asked me to share a life with him, but was too spineless to do what it takes to make it a good life (for everyone involved), yet he gets to just live life as normal and doesn't even have the balls to truly see how much I've been affected by merging my life with his. He doesn't have to find a place to live, he doesn't have to find a new job, he and his kids get to carry on like the last 3,112 days never happened.
Everyone I care about (a small handful of people) keeps telling me that it will get better, and that I just have to rebuild my life and move forward. But these people have broken me so badly that I simply do not have the spoons to rebuild with. And what's the point, anyway? Why rebuild if there's no guarantee that what I build won't be demolished by the next self absorbed person? Capitalism is fucked, so I can't even afford to rebuild on my own, and I can't trust anyone enough to build with them. The only family I have left that actually loves me in actions rather than words are my 2 Great Danes and my son. And I can't find a place to rent that will allow me to have my dogs. And even if I did, I would have to work 2.5 jobs MINIMUM, and at that point, I wouldn't have any time to spend with them. Any solution I can think of conflicts with the solution to another problem, and so I'm just trapped. I don't even have the energy left to mother my son the way I want/need to. He's better off without me here. He's so loving and kind that he tries to heal my hurt. He shouldn't have to be my emotional caretaker, but the pain that lives inside my head is so loud, so pervasive that he picks up on it anyway. That's not fair to him. He should just get to be a kid. He shouldn't have to carry his mother's burdens, even if I'm not asking him to.
I have severe ADHD, which makes normal functioning exhausting, if not outright impossible. I don't have what it takes to build a happy, healthy life for myself. I can't be here anymore, but I can't have my son knowing that I took my own life. I'm trying to figure out a means of carrying this out so that it seems like I just disappeared. How does one go about becoming a missing person? Where can I go to liberate myself so that what remains of me is never found? For transparency's sake, I am merely just pondering this out loud. I know I can't seek that advice here because it goes against the forum's guidelines. But in addition to wanting to spare my son, I also want my husband and his kids to always wonder where I am. I want them to miss me, I want them to be concerned. Maybe that makes me petty or cruel, but I'm okay with that. Their indifference to me is cruelty enough, so why shouldn't they reap what they sow? And if they knew that I CTB, that would only give them reason to resent me. They wouldn't reflect on themselves in order to see how they contributed. If life has taught me anything, it's that people only give a fuck about you if you're missing, dead, or dying. I pray fervently, constantly that the universe would inflict some fatal accident or ailment so that I don't have to do it myself, but like most prayers, it falls on deaf ears. Nobody else listens to me, why would god? I've been rewatching Breaking Bad lately just to pass the time, and I find myself infuriatingly envious of a fictional character's terminal cancer because I have to be plagued with relatively good health.
I want to go out using the IG method, because I know I deserve a peaceful, painless exit, but I don't have the finances to pull that off. And even if I did, it's a bit more complicated than I initially thought. I'll probably just end up buying a gun, even though that will leave a paper trail, and even though I know I deserve a gentler end to my story. But fuck it, at this point I'll take any exit I can manage. I'm terrified of existing any longer, but I'm equally as terrified to take myself out of here. My mother often tells me the story of how she was planning to abort me, but loved me too much to go through with it. I resent her so much for that choice. Life was an invitation that I didn't get the option to RSVP 'no' to. She was too scared to end my life, so now I'm stuck with the task. And I wish so badly that I had just ONE person that loved me enough, ONE person I trusted enough to be there with me and help me on my way out. I want someone to just be there with me and talk me back to rationality when my survival instincts kick in. I want someone to hold my hand and tell me they understand, that they love me enough to support my choice to end my suffering. I want someone to stroke my face (through the bag, I guess) and send me away with compassion and respect. I feel so alone right now, I don't want to end my journey alone, too. All I ever wanted was a family, and when I thought I had finally found one, the universe waited almost 9 years to be like 'SIKE, just kidding!' What the fuck?
I don't have anywhere to rehome my dogs, so after I'm gone, my shitty husband & his shitty kids get to keep the comfort of the only family I have left. And despite knowing the horrific influence these kids have on my son, his dad will likely allow visitation with them. It's not fair that they get to keep the best parts of my life when they're the ones who stole them from me in the first place. I'm a pretty broken person, but I've always been loving, empathetic, and selfless. And then I'm surprised when people bleed me dry. I always thought being an empath was my superpower, but it was just a weakness. I naively believed I could change the world, even if only by changing my small little corner of it. But it only served as a way for others to use me. I am not special, I am not with purpose. I believe that a house is merely a structure; that a family is what makes a place a home. And in that belief, I am currently homeless. I am emotionally homeless.
If you've read this far, bless your heart, and thank you for caring enough to hear me. I want out, I can't do this anymore. I'm so tired of seeking a love that I'm convinced doesn't actually exist. My husband's birthday is just about 2 weeks away, so I have to find a way out of here before then. I don't want anymore mornings, no more Christmases or birthdays. No more people, no more disappointment, no more days. When the shore seems so far away, and I've been battered by wave after wave, drowning just seems easier than continuing to swim. I'm tired, friends. I'm just tired.
