I’m not waving, I’m drowning.

 I’m not waving, I’m drowning.

My last post didn’t save – stupid internet.

It mostly talked about how reconnecting with a few people over the last 2 week was successful in distracting me from my grief. It was not successful in feeling the range of feelings I so desperately desired to feel. I went through the motions but couldn’t quite get there. Mostly, if I’m not guaranteed to feel better, and often feel worse in the long run- why continue?  I’m leaving the door open, though. We shall see – that probably won’t last long.  I give it two weeks, she said cheekily.

Then I talked about some generic advice I heard from Deepak Chopra on OWN. He told a grieving woman that grief is usually 1-1.5 years. After 6 years, she probably lacked meaning and purpose in her life. Duh.

Then I mentioned addiction and tried to coin the phrase negative-addiction to avoid saying the other word. I just refuse to believe this is that. The point I was trying to make is- many addicts’ story start with I tried dope, and it was the best feeling I ever had. It was everything I thought life would be. Wow, right.

On the other side of the spectrum is what I feel- where every slight or hurt is the worst feeling I’ve ever had. This is nothing like I thought life would be.

I went on to say that often times, I believe, when people hear that someone chose to end their life, there is a belief that this was some sort of impulse decision.  People wonder what might have happened in the moment right before this.

I’m here to tell you that the answer, for I would venture to say most people, is nothing. The decision to end your life is likely a seemingly lifelong series of moments right before that.