It’s Not that I am Suicidal…

Inspired by Raphsodi


…but as I look at my bedside table, I notice I have an arsenal of medication that at any time I could swallow and pretty much not wake up. But I won’t. It’s not that I am a punk, trust me my little ass has survived more physical, mental and emotional abuse than the average person. I also survived a horrific life-threatening health condition, so I should be thankful and happy right? For the most part I am.

But today was one of those days. I actually was angry that I woke up, but I had a migraine that jolted me out of my sleep. Then I heard my youngest granddaughter crying, so I got up to care for her. She makes my whole day, but she is gone for the weekend. My daughter on her days off has a routine. She will sleep as late as she possibly can, get up, shower, get cute, take selfies and bounce. She will probably come home real late (if at all) and do the same thing tomorrow.

My very best friend lives in Maryland, but if it wasn’t for her I probably would NEVER leave the house except for doctors’ appointments. My sister works long and grueling hours, and Mom is in the same boat as me because she doesn’t have a vehicle. I have a car, but I can’t drive it because of my health, so it pretty much became my daughter’s vehicle. I wish she would give it my Mom more so her and I could hang out more often.

Invite people over you say? I used to. I used to be proud of my little bungalow. It’s tiny but it was clean and cute. Not so much anymore. My best friend and my cousin offered to come and give it a good scrub because I can’t clean the way I used to. I also don’t have the disposable income to buy food for myself let alone entertain friends, get a haircut, new clothes, ya dig?

THEN to add insult to injury, yesterday, I found out the “man” I have been seeing and in Love with for the past five years (or so) is NOT the man he portrayed himself to be. He actually is a narcissistic sociopath living at LEAST THREE different lives, keeps MANY women around for need only, and unfortunately I am his latest casualty. The only thing good that came of that situation is that I gave him NOTHING but my Love and sex. So in retrospect, both of them must be off the hook. That made me feel good for about five minutes, so I took my own selfie…lol. It came out pretty damn cute. So today, I was happy for fifteen minutes, tops.

July 21st I will have my third and hopefully last brain surgery. They are rerouting the blood flow in my brain so it doesn’t fill my other aneurysm which may cause it to rupture. But apparently, I am not supposed to worry about it because it’s not until next month. Oh okay, but since I am left all alone most of the time, I have nothing to do BUT think and worry. Pardon me that I am concerned about my own life.

And that last statement is why I won’t take the arsenal of pills by my bedside all at once, because I AM going to survive this. I AM going to get my life back, get a new apartment, and maybe even GET OUT more. Shit I may even meet a good dude or two or three who AREN’T mentally ill or look like mud ducks and go out on an actual DATE??? Do people do that anymore?? LOL.

So it’s not that I am suicidal, I just gotta dead and grieve my old life, so I can have a joyful rebirth.


Photo Credit :



11 thoughts on “It’s Not that I am Suicidal…

  1. Raphsodi

    Reblogged this on The Dragon's Lair and commented:
    This is a great honor for me, to be the inspiration for such a beautiful post. I am thrilled to reblog this and hope I can help hold the candle that lights the way through the darkest of paths for anyone.

  2. SomeKernelsOfTruth

    That is a lot to handle….but you’re right, your rebirth is around the corner. Good luck with everything, and keep posting; your writing is beautiful and inspiring and I’m so happy I came across it! You have another follower here…

  3. Pingback: Guest Post – It’s Not That I’m Suicidal… | HarsH ReaLiTy

  4. s. badiyah austin

    remember how i told you that sometimes it’s hard for me to read your blog because it’s like reading my own heart…out loud…?

    this post………………………

    because life doesn’t stop after an aneurysm…meaning…the fucked up parts of life still roll in. bad lovers…asshole friends and family…loss of income….and all that out of tune jazz…and then you throw this life threatening illness on top of it…like holding a stack of porcelain plates (think of old school cartoons) in one hand and someone places a crumb at the very tip top ot it all and it all threatens to topple over…

    this is our life…daily.

    so i get this post.

    it’s not that your suicidal. it’s not that i am.

    but you. but i. have more reasons to be. and more access to be. and think about it daily, if only in…”theory”…

    but alas…we’re “survivors”. our brains exploded and we’re still…here. we’re living testaments. some call us miracles. i simply think…we’re bad ass mofos…and i think…whenever you’re looking at that arsenal…like i do…say that to yourself. “i’m a bad ass muthaf—-….i mean…why would i kill me…when it’s quite obvious…it’s takes a LOT to even do so”

    i love you very much. (sorry i wrote a damn book on your blog!)


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