My husband asked me about our monthly budget yesterday and from his phrasing and tone I knew where he was headed.
“We can’t afford to move out”
I panicked and told him that I would kill myself if we lived here passed September.
I’ve never said such a thing to anybody before.
In 25 years of death wish I’ve never threatened anyone with it.
I’ve been in constant panic since yesterday afternoon. I couldn’t sleep. My heart is pounding. My head hurts.
But I’ve realized two things today.
Firstly, I hate living here so much because I can never find peace. I have no sanctuary. No place to escape. It’s like walking with legos under every fucking step. Every fucking day. For three fucking years.
Secondly, I don’t think I was threatening. Or at least not idly. I haven’t been so close to crisis in a decade. I have thought about suicide more in the last year than in the previous ten combined.
If I have to live here past summer I’m sure at some point I will hurt someone. Probably me.
I can’t do it anymore.
At least now he knows.