Or that's what my brain likes to tell me.
I mean, really, I don't know why.
I should give myself grace, my bills are paid every month, and ya know I'm fed for the most part, I take care of my pets, but man my brain says I'm fucking worthless. Worthless by who's standard I don't know you'd have to ask my brain.
The insidious voice in my head whispers that I'm a failure, a drain on resources, not measuring up to the expectations of my stepfather and grandmother. Their unspoken judgment stings, amplified by my chronic illness. Despite my contributions, despite raising two successful, contributing children who are now working and paying taxes – fulfilling the societal role of a 'breeder,' a role seemingly valued more than my own inherent worth – the relentless self-criticism persists. It's a constant barrage of negativity, a relentless pressure to end my life. The thoughts are horrifyingly specific: the image of a short pier, the tempting height of a bridge, the chilling sharpness of a blade, the morbid curiosity about the taste of gun oil… all swirling in a vortex of despair.
But maybe all I need is a nap....
Take care of yourself, love who you have while you have them, (Thanks Phil)
Much Love,
Phyre
💙
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