To be or not to be

Yesterday I hit my limit. I was done. -- well, to be honest, I still feel done, and am extremely angry that I'm still here.

I sent three texts. One to my daughter in Cedar City, one to my other daughter in Logan, and one to a friend of mine who never reads his texts. Just told them I loved them and that I was leaving. I didn't tell anyone else because I knew they'd stop me.

I left. I left the house, I left my phone, I left my kids, I left my purse. I left everything and started walking.

The clouds looked like wings, taunting me to fly away. As the sun set, they changed into a dragon, beckoning me forward. Pulling me.

I walked all the way to Antelope Island, wanting to go for a late night swim in the lake. That was my plan. None of the kids would find mom and have that memory. I could lay there and float and freeze.

Except I couldn't.

One of the biggest lakes on the planet, and I was walking through the dried up lake bed toward the island, and so help me, there was no lake. I could find mud, but no water.

So I cried and railed at God and hiked back to the road. By that time, I could feel how far I'd walked. I know people run that far or more, but I'm not one of the runners. I could feel it in my hips, every leg muscle, and especially my feet. Oh my feet hurt. But I plodded along on the road.

At one time I curled up on the side of the road just wanting to sleep. The gate was so far away. Probably a couple of miles. But I got up and pushed myself to get there. I mean, I had failed at leaving, I had failed at fighting my inner battles, I may as well go home and accept that life is what it is. And the temperature was dropping, the wind was blowing, and I could feel the cold seeping into my bones. Maybe I wouldn't make it home after all?

Cars passed. The moon was large and bright, so visibility was not a problem. More cars passed. I plodded along because an object in motion tends to stay in motion. Then a truck stopped.

"Are you ok?"

I could barely answer him. I didn't want to answer him, but I knew he was there for me. And yet I struggled to let him help me. His wife came over and they talked me into getting in the truck, then turned around and drove me to the gate. It was not a fast drive.

The guy insisted on calling my husband, and there I was, waiting for the ride home. I expected my husband to be so angry with me that he'd refuse to come get me. But no. He came, and he hugged me so hard.

Perhaps today isn't the day to be writing this. There isn't a happy ending yet. Everyone is glad I'm home and that I'm safe. I still find myself staring at the walls and wondering why I'm here.

My aunt says it's because my kids need me and I'm the only one who understands them. Some of the other comments I've seen or been sent have said it's because I'm loved and wanted. And it's true. I have a lot of friends who love me and like having me around.

Right now that all feels like obligations and it feels too hard.

Is my medication not working? Is that why I feel trapped in my head, trapped in my life, trapped in this body with no working talents?

I don't know. I really don't know. I know that I am so frustrated with everything, I'd rather burn in hell than live like this forever. Screaming kids, husband who doesn't understand -who tries, but just doesn't- a house I can't keep clean, and other obligations.

It's all too much. It's still all too much. Of course, I don't have a plan anymore. I don't have anywhere to go now where no one would think to look for me. And the only other options I can think of would hurt or traumatize someone else.

Yeah, hypocritical, I know, when my leaving and not being found traumatized my whole family and community of friends.

I made the choice. One must pay for one's choices. Part of my consequence is the extreme pain I have from the waist down. My feet are bruised, my toes are numb, and I can barely walk now without crying. I have several friends who are furious with me. Rightly so, and I expected that. I know I have family who will never understand.

I don't expect anyone to condone my actions. I made a choice. At this moment in time I don't regret it. I probably will another day.

This struggle is so hard. I'm so tired of fighting my emotions, of fighting the dark cloud, of trying to find the humor in every situation. I'm exhausted. Yet I'm still being pulled in every direction. Fix this, do that, "moooom, she looked at me."

yeah, this is all one -waaah, pity poor me- post. I should just suck it up and deal. But maybe, just maybe someone else will understand this blackness. Someone else will see this and say, "Yeah, me too. Hang in there, because yeah, it's hard."