I wish that failing didn’t feel like clear indication I am unworthy to be alive. I wish I didn’t wake up with the intense desire to die so that I can’t hurt anyone any more.

On my PTSD support site someone asked how our faith in God has survived the trauma. Mine hasn’t. I don’t think “God has a plan for me” I think that we are mean son of a bitches who want to hurt pretty much everyone we can. We are in the least violent period of human history right now. This is the absolute pinnacle of non-violent behavior our species can manage. I wonder where the next bombing will be.

With the exception of spurring on my brother and my father committing suicide I haven’t killed anyone. I’m just a mean spirited self-involved bitch. I’m more petty than that.

Today I have to act like I am not watching movies in my head that all feature very useful and easily attainable ways for me to die. I need to not act like I am empty and worthless even though that is how I feel.

I have to be a “good mother”. I have to be loving and attentive. I feel afraid to speak. What other mean nasty thing is going to come out. How else will I be hurtful and horrible? If I stay alive I will hurt people again. Probably over and over again. I’m not supposed to hurt people. I don’t think I will be able to stop as long as I am breathing. It isn’t really in my animal nature.

My stomach hurts and I want to bang my head. I won’t. I was told that every time I hit my head on concrete I up my stroke risk and given what I have already done to my body that’s not an ok risk. But it would be so convenient to die of a stroke. Then it would look like an accident. Not my fault. Not something that needs to scar everyone for life.

I feel so selfish. I don’t really like being me. I don’t find me very pleasant. I would like to be able to opt out of dealing with me the way other people can. I only really have one option for that.

Everything I read says that at this point I am supposed to stop chanting in my head that I am just a stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid mean bitch. Worthless. Mean. Stupid bitch.

But I don’t believe anything else. How can I change the narrative?

It doesn’t matter how I feel it matters how I act. I have to stop crying before the kids wake up so I have two more hours. Then it really doesn’t matter how I feel. I have to act like it is going to be a good day. I have to play. I have to do morning snuggles. I have to tell my children I love them and that I can’t imagine a world without them in it.

In my head I will be in my bathtub cutting. I will be watching the water change colors.

I will be beating my head.

I will be stepping off freeway overpasses right in front of semi-trucks.

I will be swimming out into the ocean until my arms can no longer pull me. I hope it is over fast.

But I can’t indicate any of that on my face or in my words. I have to act like I am happy. Like I am where I want to be.

I don’t want to be here. I poison the well. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t see any road to stop hurting people while I am here. I am bad.

I am really sorry that I forced anyone to have to deal with me for twenty years. That was not a kindness. I shouldn’t have had children. I am not worthy of them. Mean fucking bastards like me should probably be forcibly sterilized before they can damage other people.

I’m glad I canceled the home school events at my house for the next few days. I don’t really think I can pretend with adults. I don’t know what my kids see but luckily they are still mostly in their own worlds. I’m just a support person. Mostly they don’t know or give a shit what is going on in my head. I don’t slip as often into inappropriate topics with them.

I know just to shut my mouth. I am stupid with adults.

Yup, I’m a dick. And not just to my kids. I really want to cancel everything on my calendar and stop talking to people. There could be no possible value in knowing me. It is inevitable I will hurt people. The only way I can protect them is to stop speaking.

I try to remember that I won’t always feel this way. As overwhelming as this is, surely I have days when I am happy to still be alive.

Today, if I were still doing that sort of thing, I would go find someone who identifies as a sadist and I would tell them I want to bleed and be unable to stop the violence. Maybe that would make me feel better. At least then I would feel like something in me had value to someone else. There are very few people in the world who will let sadists go off-leash. It makes them so happy. I really hate that I feel like that is most of what I have to offer. Maybe if I let people who are really pretty terrible hurt me they won’t hurt anyone else. Maybe if I deflect that amount of pain from the world it somehow makes up for all of the hurt I cause.

Probably not. There probably isn’t expiation for me hurting people. I’m just a fucking mean asshole.