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choosing every day

CW: Explicit talks of suicide and suicidal thoughts; sorry

I'm choosing to live. At this point in my existence its truly a choice. I'm actively, as-in it takes energy to, making this choice. part of me takes solace in that fact like "I am putting in the effort and work to survive" but its becoming to the point where I'm spending every single spoon I don't even have left to just not die.

I had a bad couple months and it just took the last of me. I hate it because it's so up and down for me. I used to talk about how I feel like I'm two people: steph and stephanie.

Steph is usually who you get here. The sad, lonely, depressed, struggling girl and stephanie is me without all the trauma and baggage laying around.

Stephanie was born in my new life. I broke up with my long term partner and sought out new experience and the life I've always wanted. She wasn't present all the time; it's rare we ever get to be our ideal selves all the time. So when she's here its always a joy. She's happy, she's fun, she's sexy its just exactly who I wish I was every day.

And then steph, poor ol' steph. She's carrying the weight of my whole gosh darn life on her shoulders and buckling under the weight.

Through therapy I feel like I've carved out a middle state of contentment. She's able to like be better? And while I wasn't always struggling to this degree before when I was depressed and then worked up to content it still felt like it was me. I still felt like me. But now its as if there is a third me.

I haven't named my depression but she exists. And it's become where my depression only got worse. Steph is doing much better. she's doing what she can and when she's okay she's okay. However, depression me... is just not okay. Her existence is nothing but depression. And its making it so much harder for her. She's forever in this state of just... not wanting to exist and its becoming unbearable. I can't take it anymore.

I was talking to my therapist literally just yesterday. I was good I was happy. I was in this place on my spectrum closer to stephanie; I didn't feel so bad. She read back the words to me of an email I had written literally the day before, but the felt like someone else words, someone elses life.

I wished death could come just take me away from all this. Just at least make it stop hurting so much.

And it hurt. Steph is okay, Stephanie is more than so. I want to be okay. But me, depression me, the me I can't seem to snap out of today... she doesn't want to be alive. And as I write this gemlog I struggle so much with that.

I can't see past that mental block I've put on to shield steph and stephanie from this pain. So where I sit right now… I just can't find a way to be okay.

I'm not going to hurt myself. But I don't know for how long I can keep doing this.

I have a short list of psychiatrists I can reach out to and I'm going to. I'm going to see if anti-depressants can at least focus me into the Steph range of my emotions. Even if it means losing Stephanie. I just can't be this me. I don't want to die. But I don't want to keep pushing through this pain. I'm so fucking sick of it.

I'm so fucking sick of it.

I'm just not okay.

— depressed steph