I am watching Betty White right now on Saturday Night Live, and realized that (at least as far as my generation goes), she is best known and loved for her comedy work as an older woman.
She reminded me of the future me that I want to be.
I cannot be an old, hilarious, kind-hearted grandmother who somehow knows how to take care of everything important and always has the best stories if I am dead. I have to live to get there.
Also, even though I know this is a bad place to type this, O.G. Kush 2 seems to be the only strain today that can get through to the lower back pain today. Not sure why, but sativas are no good against it. 3 Gabapentin, 2 tylenol, and 2 aleve to boot. Overall pain is very bad, apparently. Seeing it written out like that, it’s not awesome.
Pain does weird shit to me. It makes it seem okay to make suicide plans. Then again, thinking about what it would do to the people I love always stops me from doing it. But guilt… that’s no reason to live. Blue skies, sunshine, the beach, kittens, good food, sweet puppy dogs, music, all of that… I might trade any or all of them to end pain permanently. I’m so tired of it being a daily thing.
I think about death constantly. I try my best to make light of it to everyone like I’ve got it under control, and truth be told, I’m not currently cutting myself or running off to Mexico to procure barbiturates, so I must have it under control. But seriously, it’s like my brain is on suicide loop. There’s got to be a way to shut that bugger off.
I think one of the worst things for me right now is trying to communicate with family and friends and to try to have a life while I feel miserable. So trying to act normal while this loop in my brain is going “kill yourself” over and over again and my body feels like all kinds of freakin’ awful. It’s hard just to exist, let alone be considerate.
I want to do things and then I quite literally cannot move myself for hours… Whether it’s all in my mind or whatever, I don’t know. I sleep sometimes more than I’m awake in a day. I wonder why God made me. Adam says that asking why is looking backwards. I guess he’s right.
Thing is, if If I’m suicidal again and I can remember Betty White, I can remember that she affected my life as an old lady, and that I could imagine myself as an old woman, and that will help me.