Finding Space to Breathe

Finding Space to Breathe

Life has been so heavy for me so far in 2025. This past couple weeks has challenged me like I haven’t felt in many years. It’s difficult to keep fighting when you only have yourself to count on. Struggling but here I am writing it out. 

The last week I did some things that scared me, things I’d not really considered doing before. Making a list of people to call if I’m found dead and a few other details in that realm regarding my pets and possessions. I believe it’s considered part of making your plan. It surprised me somewhat that I got to those thoughts but it shouldn’t have since it’s been so very dark in my world. A true low for me.

I always am continually looking for harm reduction type things I can put in place for myself as I know I’m at risk. Options is one of my favorite words because for me, running out of those options will be when I die. The biggest promise I have between me, myself, and I, is I don’t make permanent decisions when I’m in my low depressive, black and white thinking, hopelessness and despair or any other cognitive distortions. So far I’ve not broken that promise. Not going to lie, I came close this week.

Warm lines. If you don’t what they are and you have depression with suicidal ideation you should have the numbers in your area handy. Why? Unlike the national suicide hotline, warm lines are run by peers and they don’t track your number and turn you in. It’s just someone on the other end to connect with, to talk, to bring yourself back, to stay. You don’t need to be in full crisis to call warm lines. You can call just to talk with someone. Some have an hour time limit but many will talk with you as long as you need.

I found myself in a panic. I knew I needed help getting out of it so I called. I talked. I found some space and was able to breathe a little bit more. It suck’s to not have any options to call someone I know. I just don’t have any support like that in my life any longer. All those type of friends are gone now, sadly have passed away. No family in my picture. Currently having no therapist has made any emotional support back to zero. 

I don’t know what my fate is right now. I am doing my best. Some days I just take minute by minute. Suicide for me is not about wanting to die, but simply not wanting to live this joyless life I’m in. They are separate parts in my system as they are two different things. I’m so aware of the workings that make up these parts of my system. There’s an entire gang I call the death squad.

Awareness is one thing. I do appreciate being aware of all the different parts that make up “me”. But I haven’t made much progress with change. The disappointment and hurt from being so close to some actual help, confronting these shadows of mine and having a plan that all disappeared when I was abandoned by my therapist. It’s hard to find the proper words to explain how many ways that has affected me. I’m still discovering the enormity of it all.

It’s so discouraging to think about starting all over again. Can I do it? Will I do it? How will I do it? Trust is locked away pretty tightly. So many unanswered questions to ponder. My brain is still searching but unsure if I can find solutions. I do realize help is needed. I’m going to search for a bit of hope with finding that help. At least I can breathe a bit more and I’m still here fighting for that breath. 

Double I. Still alone. Struggling. Me. Myself. I

Can I just say fuck. It seems appropriate.

3.4.25