The last three weeks, I have given up on trying to stop my suicidal thoughts. My "sister" still has the husband she "left" sleeping over when they've spent so much time together after work that he's too tired to drive home (grammatically correct run-on sentence #... I lost count). Tonight, I let my feelings on the subject be known. I explained (ok, basically shouted) how all this is affecting me, and how badly I wish I knew why. I pointed out (for no less than the tenth time) that this narcissist is, quite literally, killing me. Then my father pulls the "he's son-in-law" crap and completely disregards my feelings. Needless to say, the soon-to-be ex-son-in-law is staying the night.
My whole life, I have tolerated everything that has been thrown at me. Better still, I survived it all. Since she moved back, I have zero control over how I feel or what I think. Last week, she got me cornered while shouting at me and demeaning me, and, almost as if I were watching from the outside, I saw my foot go out and kick her. I suddenly understood how people can lose control. I'm not sorry I did it, I'm just a bit confused as to how it happened.
As my mother was sitting with me, attempting to make this whole "him staying over" thing okay somehow, I said something that I'm not sure if she fully understands: "I can't do this anymore." She probably took it as a passing comment, but it's way more than that.
I have been entertaining my suicidal thoughts quite a bit today, but tonight, I'm seriously considering it. I don't feel sad about it. I don't feel angry. I don't feel anything. I have dug my nails into any place on my body that will bleed, as well as pinched and pounded just trying to feel something, but there's nothing. I can't make myself cry because I can't make myself feel.
I think this is what "giving up" feels like.
The truly tragic part about all this: I'll still go to bed, not really sleep, get up in the morning, and do it all over again.
"Numb"~ Linkin Park