When I decide to die, it's not your fault. You are in no way responsible for my decision. It's MY decision.
When I choose to die, it won't be about you. I acknowledge that there will be a feeling that I didn't love you enough to live, and there will be a lot of wondering how could I do that to you. I say again, I can't say often enough -- it's not about you.
I didn't love you enough?
First off, it is my great, great, overwhelming love for each and every one of you that has kept me going this long. Because I have loved you, I got up from my bed and cooked, and advised, and even drove all over the countryside because YOU NEEDED ME.
It is my love for you that keeps me trying.
My love for you has kept me going beyond all reason, beyond all sanity.
Sometimes, in the bad times, I resent that. I don't want held. I want free. Free to live my life -- or NOT!
How could I do what, exactly, to you? End my life? Lay myself down to a sleep where I won't have to go to the bathroom, or answer the telephone, or do any of the many, many things that rob me of my rest, that steal peace from me?
How is that doing something to you? What makes you the star of my death?
I'm tired.
I'm sick.
I'm sick and tired.
I am also in pain. Mental, physical, emotional. Doesn't matter. I hurt.
I hurt, and you can't make that better, although I know you want to.
I hurt, and healing is too hard. Another chore, another job, another effort.
It's not that you aren't worth the effort -- you ARE.
It's just too hard, and it hurts too badly.
Finally.
I can't.
I just can't.
Not even you can make it worthwhile.
Give me rest.
Let me rest.
When I choose to die, it won't be about you. I acknowledge that there will be a feeling that I didn't love you enough to live, and there will be a lot of wondering how could I do that to you. I say again, I can't say often enough -- it's not about you.
I didn't love you enough?
First off, it is my great, great, overwhelming love for each and every one of you that has kept me going this long. Because I have loved you, I got up from my bed and cooked, and advised, and even drove all over the countryside because YOU NEEDED ME.
It is my love for you that keeps me trying.
My love for you has kept me going beyond all reason, beyond all sanity.
Sometimes, in the bad times, I resent that. I don't want held. I want free. Free to live my life -- or NOT!
How could I do what, exactly, to you? End my life? Lay myself down to a sleep where I won't have to go to the bathroom, or answer the telephone, or do any of the many, many things that rob me of my rest, that steal peace from me?
How is that doing something to you? What makes you the star of my death?
I'm tired.
I'm sick.
I'm sick and tired.
I am also in pain. Mental, physical, emotional. Doesn't matter. I hurt.
I hurt, and you can't make that better, although I know you want to.
I hurt, and healing is too hard. Another chore, another job, another effort.
It's not that you aren't worth the effort -- you ARE.
It's just too hard, and it hurts too badly.
Finally.
I can't.
I just can't.
Not even you can make it worthwhile.
Give me rest.
Let me rest.
Or....how about YOU show ME how much you want me to live??
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ReplyDeleteOr they simply don't appreciate the effort, and just tell you what you do is not good enough. These are the one who yell the loudest that you "did this to" them. We just gotta focus on those who do appreciate, rare as they may be.
ReplyDeleteValid points, but in the end, it's still a personal decision, and no one else can -- or should -- be "blamed" except for the perpetrator.
ReplyDeleteRita, the point you mention is where the self blame often comes from.
ReplyDelete