Last night was difficult for me. I was on the edge of taking my life. I took too many pills. I need to offer up my suffering to God. I don’t know how.
My life is so beautiful. I know that. But the pain gets so strong that it rips me apart. And when C came home talking about future jobs and he mentioned bringing me back to DC, I broke. My year in the DC area was the worst year. I can’t drive or park there. We were broke from how expensive the area was. We couldn’t heat our house all the way (it was at the top of our price point) and I shivered cold in bed all winter – too tired and cold to get up until the girls came home from school. My mental and physical health declined.
I need to accept that I must go back there. It would make my husband happy – though it breaks me. I hate DC and NoVa. Hate. Northern Virginia has not one redeeming quality. I struggled. I’m struggling anyways.
Today C is making Indian Butter Chicken. There are no Indian restaurants here, so I haven’t had it in a long time. It’s sweet of him. He bought the spices for it online because I couldn’t find them locally. I’m tired from overdosing. I slept much of the afternoon. My soul hurts.
Next week I will need to confess this to my priest and seek forgiveness. But this morning I woke up disappointed to be alive. My soul hurts.
Life at Home 