I hate myself. It is something that I believe grew from repeated child abuse (usually at female hands). It is something that became a practiced part of my life and built up to self-injurious behavior and even one truly serious, and a few lesser, suicide decisions. There has only ever been one person in my 43 year old life that has been able to counterbalance that self-hatred and that was my wife. As she died on June 30th, with my giving the ok to turn off the life support machines, Since that loss my self-hatred has come back a thousand  fold.

I am sure there are some out there who hear "self-hatred" and think "self-pity". They are wrong. I have felt both. They are distinct. In self-pitying moods I my want to die to avoid things, but I do not feel I deserve to die as I'm scum. In self-pitying moods I do not refuse help that is given because I don't think I deserve it. All told, self-hatred is far more isolating, self-punishing and therefore dangerous than self-pity.

Due to this building self-hatred.I know I am spiraling  downward on a crash course with permanent decisions. I have a therapist and see him for individual and group work. Unfortunately, at this point, attending group is making things even worse than not attending. When I last went I came home with such a strong desire to cut it was all I could do not to and to put myself to bed. Now I find myself feeling even worse on an almost daily basis.

A part of me my wife trained to be strong is fighting this. It is this part of me that makes me write here, makes me see my shrink, keeps me going to work and even eating. It is this part of me that distracts me with those few friends I have, reminds me that I have a duty to the pets, and keeps me aware that my wife were she alive would not want this. It is also a desperate fight that I can't say it will win.

So, I have a shrink; why don't I tell him what I'm feeling? Shrinks have one legal way of dealing with suicidal feelings - the psych ward. I've done this trip before and I know what happens. You are locked up until they feel that you are no longer a danger to yourself or until health insurance pressures them enough to let you go (about a week on average). You are fed drugs that can have severe side effects and given a cot to sleep on that it's virtually impossible to get any sleep on due to its discomfort. You are sent home with meds and told to resume meeting with your shrink.

Right now, I would have nobody else to look after the pets - so I would feel intensely guilty about that. I would feel more self-hatred for letting myself get locked up. I would lose money due to not being able to work while locked up, at a time when my wife's pension has been stopped for 2-3 months while paperwork is sorted out reducing my income by thousands to a barely sustainable level. I would know that there was no point in being open with, and therefore no point in speaking to, my shrink. And I would leave with such a heightened level of hatred I wouldn't take the meds unless they were causing me more side effects than benefits. So doing the loony ward shuffle would be more likely to push me towards permanent decisions than prevent them.

Anyhow, I realize now that I'm waffling. Part of me wants to delete this whole post. After all, nothing can be achieved by it. It's just that part of me that won't shut up that insists I try anyway. So here's my post.