I love you.
You are inspiring and adaptive, and relevant. Somehow, in spite of your age, I mean 56 sounds ancient. It isn’t. 56 is young. You are younger than me.
Well, you’re older than me, but that doesn’t matter, because you could best me in any physical comparison.
I wish I looked as young as you. I’m old and unfuckable. You aren’t. I wouldn’t fuck you, you’re married, but, seriously, you are a beast and I want to date you, I want to be you. You are a superhero.
I’ll never meet you. I’ll never know the real you. I’ll never know if Sage is lying, if you are different off stage, because even if I did meet you it would be for a split second to shake your hand at a seminar (in some alternate universe where I can afford a seminar ticket.). I wouldn’t know if you are really the same dynamic personality offstage as you are on. I’ll have to take her (onstage) response.
I wish I could be like you.
I wish I was good.
Tonight confirms that’s not true. Tonight I was watching your TED talk, and I just wanted to know what question is it that I need to ask myself to reframe my thinking. Obviously I’m seeing life wrong. Obviously, based on the pervasive unhappiness, based on the constant jealousy at what everyone else has or is doing, I am doing something wrong. Some of it is honest and good. There is nothing better than setting goals and knowing what you want so you can go for it. That makes me happy.
The problem has become that I personally have nothing that I want. I am typing this on a dinosaur of a computer, for which I am grateful. It is running XP and I am pretty sure this was purchased back in 08, but man I hope it can run for another ten to twenty years. I don’t want to have to keep everything for thirty years. I should be able to have nice things. I work hard. I work too hard. I have no social life. I have no friends. I have no sexy side or fun side or happy side. There is only work, taking care of my kids (probably poorly), and video games that I despise, but they pass the time which I have nothing else to do in because I have nothing. I have no clothes that aren’t work clothes or sleep clothes (I do have some workout clothes) but I don’t have anything nice to run around on the weekends in. I’m fat and frumpy and so many bad things. I want to be good things.
I try to do good. I try to be good. I try to have good. But I don’t have good.
Anyhow I’m writing this to ask about the suicide. See, I think about suicide. I’ve thought about suicide nearly every day for 2o years now. I don’t think anyone knows this, but to be totally honest, I’m not sure they’d care if they did.
Here’s the real problem though, I’m not sure I care. See, when I was eleven, when it started… I didn’t care then either. Then when I was about 15, it bothered me some, but mostly they had tried to say I was Manic Depressive, and since I’m a reasonably intelligent individual and could read the symptoms and effects, I knew that wasn’t what was going on. They didn’t believe me, since apparently I’m a moron? I’m not really sure, but they tried medicating me for something I didn’t have and I hated the medicine and blah blah… Anyhow they missed the ADHD that I am sure is present, but I’m pretty sure I also have Borderline Personality Disorder, although I have no way to get help or diagnosis or support since my “husband” thinks that he needs to spend 9/10 of his life in bed not helping out. So when you’re abused as a kid and abused as an adult and treated like crap nearly everywhere, I guess suicide doesn’t seem like a problem so much as a solution.
A solution you can’t use, because it is a horrible, mean, awful thing to do to people who are doing their best to be good people, like you’re trying to be good people, it’s just that you suck at it so much and could never be any better. So I have quit trying to get rid of the suicide thoughts because I know I’m not going to do it.
I just want to know why I don’t care. I want to know why I am so convinced that at my very young age I can relatively confidently say my life never gets better.
I get that that’s the pattern. I just want to know how to change it.
I’d love, more than anything, to get a divorce. My husband doesn’t love me. He would, undoubtedly use my admitted issues to take my kids, and while it seems, from my crazy that I’m the worse parent, I am the THERE parent. I am the one who takes them where they need to go. I am the one that goes without so they can have what they need, I am the one making the sacrifices. He is the one talking about how easy it is. He is the one with the fake smile in public and the mean, cutting abuse in private. At least the physical abuse stopped… Trust me, attempting leaving makes the abuse worse.
I can’t get divorced.
I’d love to win the lottery and have a big house. I’d love nice clothes. I’d love to open a childcare center on several acres with some dogs and some elderly housing. A garden, a long path. Lots of room to run and learn and explore. Trees. A library, some computers. It would be hard at first as I would have to really study business to make sure that I didn’t go bankrupt like all the other lotto winners.
I’m not going to win the lottery.
I’d like to cheat. I mean, there has to be someone willing to sneakily love me without having to go through the whole messy divorce ‘he said’ ‘she said’. I still have a little bit of faith and maybe I can make that grow and if I did, this would cause incredible pain.
I’m not going to cheat.
I would swoon a wardrobe, a drastic physical change and an uplifting group of friends. I can’t make friends, I’m poor as fuck so I can’t go do anything anyway and I’m up at midnight typing a blog post that no one, especially not Tony Fucking Robbins is going to read, so I’m sure as hell not getting off my ass early in the morning to go for a run. It doesn’t matter anyway because with the way the world works all I can afford is beans and rice and sugar, so I eat lots of damned sugar because that’s all I have, so you think I’m going to be able to drop sixty pounds? No. Oh and I’m as delightful as a hippo, so no one is lining up around the block to be my friend either. No one even came to say goodbye when I left…
So, no friends, no physical change, no clothes, no fun, no life.
There really is nothing to live for except to not hurt people, so I’m not going to really care about these thoughts because as much as I know doing it would hurt others, it comforts me to know that at least I didn’t off myself today. Go me.
I know I’ve done good because some of my toughest students still love me. They smile, they know I care about them. I haven’t even seen many of them on the police blotter (you’d see it in a small town).
My own kids are kind and help people all the time.
I’m not a monster. I just have this one issue. I hate this fucking world and want to die.
But I don’t and the thoughts of suicide and the selfrighteousness of knowing that I did this one thing to save others from pain is all that keeps me going somedays.
I guess I’m really writing this to tell myself that, but it brings up this huge issue.
How do I stop hating life so much.
How do I feel successful since I will never get my daycare. I’ll never get clothes. I’ll never have space. I will probably be stuck in this tiny ass apartment trying to keep up with life all on my own and trying not to let all my hate to spew all over everyone all the time.
How do I get happy when life sucks.
How do I get happy when I’m ugly AF?
How do I get happy when I’m so fat?
How do I get happy when every single tshirt says “teacher” and I can’t buy more because I don’t have an extra penny to my name?
How do I get happy when everyone treats me like shit?
How do I behave like the vibrant, fulfilled, peaceful, amazing woman I want to be?
While I’m at it how do I get unpoor and unugly and ungrateful? How do I get unstuck? How do I stop this bitchy, moody, fucked up side of me from rearing its ugly head?
How do I start being desirable?
How do I make my spouse love me?
How do I love myself?
How do I become the person I want to be?
How do I make friends?
How do I get happy?
How can I be fulfilled?
How can I believe in God?
How can I stop worrying about every minuscule, irrelevant detail?
How do I get every to stop taking advantage of me in every way?
How do I stop the thoughts?
I don’t have an hour for power. I don’t have any help and I have three very time consuming kids.
I don’t have the intelligence, beauty, social prowess, or aptitude in any way to get rich, but I desperately want a nice house, and bills that are paid off. I desperately want to just serve without having to deal with this one incompetency. I have so many incompetencies…
But I guess that’s maybe another story.
Dear Tony Robbins, or anyone, anyone at all,