I didn't take the clonazapam, obviously. Instead, I've been flirting with the idea of how many pills can I take and still wake up in the morning. That way, if I don't wake up, it is an ACCIDENTAL overdose and not suicide. At least, in my deluded mind, that makes since, and my children will not think that I abandoned them. That is the most important thing. Last night, it was two Ambien, six clonazapam and two Lithium. I ate half a bag of cookies and had a conversation that I don't really remember with my oldest daughter who is away at college, but I'm still here.
My husband no longer speaks to me. He has stopped paying the household bills. The water will be shut off on the 28th if I can't come up with $148. It looks like it hasn't been paid in about three months. I don't know who will take care of my children when I am gone. Besides all his lip service about what a horrible mother I am, none of them like to be around him. We are opposite side of the same coin with me being to lenient and coddling and him being to strict and with a complete and total ignorance of how to affectionate on any level. One would think that would even us out and make us the perfect couple, but it doesn't. It puts us at constant odds with one another.
I'm seeing my therapist tomorrow. I'm debating printing out this blog and showing it to her, but I'm afraid she will put me away and I'm not sure that I want anybody this far into my head. I'm pretty sure that nobody actually reads here, so it feels like a safe place.