-15- DEATH WISH POEM Unseeing, Unknowing, Uncaring Those around me act, or react As if it did not matter, annoyed Not my probem, not my mess, not my responsability. Why should I? Stop bugging me. It does not bother them, the dirt or clutter. They can come and go as they please. They can avoid the litter, sift through the sounds But I cannot. I cannot clean it up myself. I cannot step over the clutter. I cannot go out as I please. I cannot sift through the sounds. I cannot - they won't understand. They will not and I cannot. I am trapped. ----- DIARY. FRIDAY. [2am] My life is all screwed up. I fell apart tonight from the stress of the kids fighting, and I was caught in the crossfire. I can't do this. I am ill, tired, shit upon and stressed out to the point of no return. I was quite ready to die tonight and maybe I still am. I was ready to go wild and trash the place. A little push and it would have occured. I was a danger to myself and others. I don't know if I am much calmer or not. I am tired to the point of headache. I cannot take the pressures anymore. I have the urge to die and end the hell of my life. I am tired of staying alive simply as not to inconvenience others. I am weary of it all, especially the uncaring, self centered arrogance that I have to put up with from my menfolk. I'm crumbling fast. I feel like a slave. I am a prisoner of my illness and a slave to their needs. Not a good way to live. [3:30pm] Panther cat is a cuddle, trying to purr me better. I am feeling dead inside today. Quite dead. I am listless more than exhausted. The phone keeps on ringing and I hope someone answers it. I'm tired of being an answering service for people, truly I am. I am to the point of not giving a damn for anyone but the cats for the cats are the only ones who demand little of me and cuddle me gently. My heart is broken so badly that it does not even hurt today. I turned it off in regards to people. I don't want to be nice to people, I want to be hostile. Very hostile. I feel very hostile if I feel anything at all. It would be so very easy to kill humans today. Enjoyable in fact. There is a great store of untapped rage in my soul. I'm not alright. I'm far from alright. my life is all wrong and geing worse all of the time. I don't want to see anyone, talk to anyone, touch a human; I can't say "anyone" without a qualifier - anyone human. I'm "happy" for the companionship and love of my cats. I don't want to deal with foul moods, or foul mouths, or negative energies, crisis, hostile acts or energies. I want none of it. I can't take it, can't cope with it. I am a danger to others today. Truly a danger to others. And it doesn't scare me now either. I'm not afraid I'll hurt or kill somebody, I look forward to the event as a release of the pent up hostilities and rages. I am on the edge of madmess, that long razor sharp edge. It cuts into my soul. Oh, I have been making the effort to be calm and tolerant. It has been most difficult to manage. I don't know how long I will be able to keep managing it. I will strike out in blind rage when I do strike out. I just hope it falls on someone who really deserves it. That would be a cause of great satisfaction. I want satisfaction. I need some sence of satisfaction and power. I crave it. Life is so very hard and I hate being in this hell. It is Hell. ----- DIARY. SUNDAY. Maybe I expect too much from them, the family living here in the house right now. They do not seem to realize how humiliating it is for me to have to beg for help, how humiliating it is for me to be unable to do. They shame me for asking, for being dependant on them. No matter how I cry or explain they still punish me with their scorn. Today is a beautiful day, and the neighbour works in her garden. It hurts that I do not have the strength to work in mine. It hurts that the house is so dirty and messy. It hurts when I get nasty looks when I ask for help and even nastier ones when I struggle to do on my own. Struggle. All I do is struggle. When I ask, they stall, put off, and refuse. When I try, they won't let me. Futility and frustration abounds. Do I ask too much of them? I feel that I am a piece of unworth shit to ask them to inconvienience themselves for me. As long as I do not inconvienience then they may consider cleaning up their own messes. I feel very dirty in my being, as I did as a child, an unwanted burden upon their lives. Only in acheivements do I redeem myself for the moment. No matter how many times I go over this issue I do not see an answer, or a reason. The entire world cannot be wrong can it? If I am always treated badly does it not follow that I must be at fault? I do not comprehend how I am at fault. Why me? I am having trouble walking today, again. I spent three hours working on a report of my condition for my doctor, for tommorow. Fun. It was not easy to admit I'd rather be dead than to live like this. I am humiliated by life. [8:15pm] I long for the peaceful release of death this night. I have suffered more humiliation than I can handle. Lois just came in my room demanding to know what's bugging me. I asked her to leave and she wouldn't. I yelled at her to please go away and leave me alone. She got hostile. this is the only place I have to hie in and I want to be left alone. I had to yell at her to leave me alone. I want to be alone right now, away from her. She fiannly left as I grew hysterical. But I had to get hysterical first. I wish I could lock that door. Ireally wish I could. I wish I could find a place that was safe and warm and comforting. I just want not to hurt, not to fall, not to feel humiliated when I don't meet other people's expectations of me. Another knock on the door. I say, "Go Away". I go hungry again today. I cry for it. I can't get up the energy to cook up a potato or a pot of rice, or oatmeal. Those are my choice, but I can't see the instructions and I am too ashamed to ask for help. All I get is improperly prepared foods which make feel worse and glares of resentment. CJ's pot of chili would not sit well on my already upset stomach and bowels, and I can't handle the MSG in cream of whatever soups. How I was humiliated - well back to that. I felt bad that I didn't "recover" after a nap and resentful that I was expected to do so. When I did attempt to go for supper, to have some chili, I fell over Don's work boots in the hall. they were hidden in a shadow and I banged my toe so hard even my hip hurt. The nail's gone purple already. As I sat crying in pain, I am asked innocently if I am OK. I don't cry with pain easily, but I was crying and all I could say was "stupid question!" I was not OK. I had asked to have "dangers" removed from the floor earlier in the day, and when I attempted to do so myself I was shoved away under protests of "Let me do that." Then I have difficulty seeing, and I manage to avoid Mike's boots only to slam my foot into Don's. After the cramping in my foot and leg stops I again try to make it to eating. Everyone is seated and out of the way so I shouldn't fall over them. As aoon as I reach for the back of Don's chair for balance he pulls it in. Again my left side is jolted as I bang my toe on the chairleg as I stumble. I got to the counter for support and burst into tears. It is all I can do to get to my room and cry. After calming down I make my way back down to the kitchen. I'm not all that calm as Don has seen fit to bother me. He offered to make me something but I refused. I can produce burned toast and cold tea with no problems and no resentful looks either. I was not alone for long. First CJ. I appologize for not eating the chili as I spoon it into a container for the fridge. My insides already hurt. He tries to help me search for something I can eat and prepare, to no avail. Not even a pack of noodles awaits me. At least I have my tea. I did not need to be decended upon by a babbling Don and Lois too. I couldn't understand what anyone was saying. I grabbed my tea and fled. And I cried until I thought I could cry no more. I sipped my tea and wrote out my feelings of giving up. I stuck it on my door in hopes that people would read it and go away. -Another interruption. Don and Mike. [late pm] I cried at Don and Mike. I told them that I am humiliated at living and telling people over and over again what I need and what is wrong. Why should I believe that anyone really cares when they won't listen. The same foolish questions are andked and answered endlessly and nothing ever changes for long. How can I expect anything but shit and more shit. They won't listen. I tossed Don my binder of ME material and I told him I have an equally large one on FM. Damn it all, I wish he would read and understand. I am so tired of bugging and pleading for consideration. It is humiliating to have to plead and beg all of the time. Totally humiliating to exist at the convienience of others, by their whims. And I am expected to just put up with this quietly. Insult adds to injury.