Sunday, September 12, 2010


Warning: This post may be unsettling. It was written in June. I didn’t post it because I didn’t want someone calling Child Protection Services, a threat that was made. Please know that I am better. Please know that I continue to fight and function. Please know that I am here.

I thought about it today.
And yesterday
Actually been thinking about it for 5 days straight.
Considering different ways to do it. Quick, painless ways to do it.

I’ve been thinking about killing myself.

The fact that I am writing about this means, I think….I am working past this feeling.

I hope.

This running of me, the running of my children’s lives, the running of my business, the worry of money, the worry of asking for help…..again and again and again.

It’s stretched me beyond ….

I am so thin, wispy…..

I can’t see myself.

Father’s Day, a school wide celebration called Moving Up Day, the death of a husband’s a friend, the running out of money, the knowledge again, that there is no protecting my children, just shielding them and offering them tools that I feel leave them ill equipped to handle life.

Tools to cope, where are mine?

I know suicide would be selfish.
I know that it is possible that my children would never understand.
And I know that I am in extraordinary pain.
And I know that dying would be quieter, easier and would end the pain. I know this is what my husband felt when during his battle with cancer he said to me

“I’m just so tired.

I just want to rest.”

And he did finally, get to rest.

I know that you, the reader may call me cowardly, a horrible selfish mother.

And you would be right and you would be wrong. The pain is so intense that I feel my kids would be better off without this monster mother I have become, roaming freely in the world, angry, mean, blowing up for no good reason at random. Spewing hate and self doubt, shame.

I find myself looking at another shopping list, listening to another bickering session between my kids, packing another lunch, making another play date phone call, trying to stretch $1 into $2 and then going to bed and doing it all over again the next day. I find it all too much. And I ask,

“Is this all there is?”

After the intense loss, after starting to be OK without him, after the grief has turned deep and mellow, is this all there is? Is this what I was fighting to get too?

I remember when Art and I would share the weekends. One morning one of us got to sleep in. For a few hours in a week, one of us got time to ourselves to do whatever we wanted to do. I remember we provided for each other with back-up, guidance, help, humor (I have forgotten what it feels like to have a really big belly laugh!) I remember feeling like I could fall down cause not only was there someone there to pick me up but to clean up the mess as well.

I’m not allowed to fall now.

The wave of grief has me so far down that swimming to air, if I knew which way was up, feels like it would take too much energy. Energy I simply don’t have.

My friend said, “Imagine BP (the oil company) losing ½ their staff during this crisis. That’s what happened to you. You lost half your staff when Art died and you were in crisis and still are.”

That makes me smile. It puts an image to the burden I feel.

He follows with “You need a break.” And I want to smack him. How do you take a break from kids who can’t stand to have you go away?

Everyone says “You need a break." and yet no one suggests exactly how that break is supposed to happen, nor do those words follow with an offer of help, in any way. It’s like the airplane thing when they say put the mask on yourself first. What if your mask is all tangled up, barely within reach, in knots?

I am tired. I have been beaten.

Uncle life, Uncle. You win.

I am no good.

I am no good to my children.

I am tired and I just need a rest.


  1. thank you for your honesty and for having the courage to share this post with us.

    I find myself uttering constantly (to him) ... "I'm so tired. I want to come home. I've had enough. It's relentless. I'm scared and alone."

    and I too have been overwhelmed with thoughts of ending it all - but luckily I have a childish fear that if I were to act upon it - I could end up in a different place to him FOR ETERNITY - and that is enough to stop me :-)

    I wish you light and love
    Boo x

  2. It scares me how I feel like you have reached inside my head and pulled this out. Of course you have written it far better than I could have expressed it, but there you are..... I feel / have felt this too. If only the "break" would fix it.
    You inspire me. Your strength and courage at expressing this has really helped me tonight. Thank you xxxxx

  3. Kim,I do understand your post.It has crossed my ming too, killing myself, but not for long. I have one extremely difficult daughter right now and I feel tired too. You are also correct, people just don't get how you do not get a break. If they see this why don't they offer to give you the break you need-take the kids - make dinner- give you a few hours to yourself. I know you are better and I glad, but do understand where this cam from.

  4. Oh Kim .... I was in that very place, too. Sometimes it's so very difficult to get out of that cave. There's no energy, no strength .... no more will. Even knowing that it would be horrible for the kids is sometimes .... not enough.
    I just wanted everything to stop. Everything.
    I hate thinking about that cave, but I so get it. And I'm glad that felt you could write about it now. And .... I'm glad that you're still here, my friend.
    That we're still here.

  5. OMG what an honest post and I can so relate, my only difference is we weren't blessed with children which only made my thinking more reason to do it. I actually had a plan, a date etc. My only fear as stated in one of the other comments, this act would not guarantee my being with my husband, since this act is frowned upon by all religions's too big a chance to take and that scares me. The only thing I look forward to is eternity with him... I feel no reason or purpose to continue this life without him, I feel I continue to function but am not living, I am such a different person now. I too feel so tired and understand when my husband too stated those words when he was very sick before he too passed. I take baby steps and take life one day at time. Thank you that was powerful and helps me know I am not alone.

  6. I felt the same way. I thought my kids would be better off with someone who was more capable. I thought my family would be angry, but I knew God would understand my pain and the limits I could endure. I also figured out a way and knowing that I had a way out was enough to keep me looking for a way to get better. In the back of my mind I found weird comfort that if I ever get desperate enough I can die. Lucklily I am getting stronger and I have found hope in the future. Thankyou for your post.

  7. Oh man,
    I just love your posts. They always move me. Thank you for your bravery and honesty. It is a refreshing change in a world so worried about offending!

    Hugging you,

  8. I can so relate to being completely wiped out, at the end of your rope that now feels like the thinnest thread.

    Fortunately I have been blessed with amazing friends that have allowed me to get that break when needed, even now, 4+ years later. All I do is ask and one of them will come forward, take my kiddo and let me have Adult Mom time, and sometimes I even forget that I'm a mom while I'm having this break.

    I'll be praying for you.

  9. Kim,
    I know your 52 yr.old,athletic, marathoning, mountain climbing, ski patrolling, soccer referring husband died suddenly during a short lunchtime run. He left for work that morning (in June) and the police called me at 10:30 PM that night to tell me the news. It hurts, it's unbelievable, it sucks, it's unfair, it's hard....but, I have to believe it will get easier. You need someone to talk to...please find a therapist to whom you can talk. It will, literally, be a life saver. I am worried about you......please do this today!

  10. Kim,

    My thoughts are with you. I can so relate to the overwhelming feeling of being It all the time. Hang in there. I'm relieved to hear you are feeling better, but know how it can be with the ups and downs. Just as you have emerged from the depths before, you have it in you to do so whenever you may have the need. Wishing you all the best, Maria

  11. My husband chose to die. It wasn't an accident. It wasn't natural. He chose death. It complicates everything. But I understand.

  12. I haven't lost anyone the same way you have, and I wouldn't dare pretend to even grasp exactly how you feel anymore than I'm sure you would me, but I know what you mean anyhow.

    For me, it's the bathroom rug. When things are good, they're good, and I feel great, and I think I'm not sad anymore, and I walk into the bathroom I look at that rug and think how ridiculous it was that my entire life was falling apart right there a while ago.

    When I am upset, I want to be alone in a small, dark space. The bathroom is perfect, and I lie on the rug.

    Then, a night or two later, I am back there, laying on the floor, unable to will myself to get up even if it's grossly uncomfortable, knowing that I'll end up there again, and that if I ever cheer up, it'll eventually give way to this same, awful feeling, and I wonder if it'd be easy to drown in the tub.

    But sometimes I think of other stuff, and that "other stuff" often consists of "I wonder if there is anyone else in the whole world who ever feels this sad..." which is what lead me here.

    I know you are better now, but... Stay strong, dear (: Every time you are about ready to give up, someone else is too. Imagine what they look like, what their troubles are, and pretend to encourage eachother to keep going. Er, it helps me anyway.