I want to die

I typed that into the search box tonight. Google must have someone making this page of results very valuable. It’s the most clear-cut, useful results page I’ve ever seen. 

First of all, there is a phone number to call. I wouldn’t call it. Of course I’m ok: I’m in a good marriage, I live in a great house on a gorgeous farm, I have two bright boys, and very supportive siblings.

I am crying now. I’m too overwhelmed. Before you jump right to the comments section trying to help me, let me tell you that I’m traveling with the kids and I’ve been in Aspen for five days without my anxiety medicine. I will have the medicine again in two days.

I have friends I can always call. Melissa and Cassie will read this post and tell me I could have called them. But I wouldn’t know what to say to them. I guess I could say, “Help. I want to die.” I know I could say that because they have called me to say that. That’s how I know there are others of you, reading this, who have felt like I feel tonight.

When I found something to read online, I was so grateful. Can you want to die and also feel gratitude? I think it might be impossible. So maybe that’s why the way Google organized the search results really works.

I want to be a shining example for you but I can’t cope.

I want you to see that even though I had to live at my grandparents house because my parents hated me so much. Even though I did that, I am still a great parent. I want you to see that I’m not ruined and I’m not ruining another generation.

I want you to see that even though I told you to never have two blogs, I can still do it. But I can’t. I didn’t write for two weeks. But I keep writing both blogs because I need the support system. And now maybe I don’t even have that.

I want to die because I feel like I can’t do anything right.

I am not sure what could possible make me not want to die except that I can help people. I’m not sure what else there is. Which is crazy because I’m doing this course this week about using personality type for making relationships work. Most of these people are complaining about their spouses, (or, worse, they think they have perfect spouses and it’s so easy for me to see what they’ll be complaining about in the future) and I have so little patience. I want everyone to see that their relationship is fine because they are with someone who is just being themselves, trying their best.

Why do I think it’s fine for everyone else to try their best but it’s not enough for me? I read a letter in the Guardian from a guy who is angry at his wife because she won’t work. I understand why the guy is so upset—it’s scary to have to keep earning money.

It’s scary to me how expensive music lessons are. And how much money we spend every week in science and math tutors. I feel like a failure because I am not homeschooling like a free-and-easy, life-is-good parent. I am in overdrive.

I realize now I’m like all the other people in my course whose relationships are in trouble: doing the only thing I know how to do. I’m an ENTJ and I’m driven to meet goals and so I find the goals that drive my kids and then I don’t take my eye off the ball, no matter what.

I’m just being me. But I am failing at it right now.

I read a lot of forums tonight. So many depressed people are depressed because of their job. It’s so common to read studies about how love matters more than work. And how you are not your career. And that money doesn’t make a good life. But there is also research about how we can recover mentally from a lost limb better than we can recover from long-term unemployment.

Not having a job is very very very difficult. So many people on the forums wrote about that.

I have a job. I am so grateful that I have a job. This is my job. To write a blog post. To make a community that matters. So I am doing that tonight. And I have survived, to the end of this post, to tell you that when it comes to feeling like you want to die, life changes so fast.

If you can just get through those worst feelings, you will get to something better. I did. Right here.

149 replies
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  1. MBL
    MBL says:

    Another book that I recently read that I figured would find its way into your comments section is http://www.amazon.com/dp/1439129436/?tag=ptrunk-20 It is excellent. Because I know that my ESFJ mother loves me and (erroneously, but) truly believes that she knows what would make me happy then she can’t be a full blown narcissist. BUT, that doesn’t mean that her many tendencies didn’t wreak havoc on my identity.

    Daughters tend to end up over or under achievers.

    Reading the book has been so very helpful. But it is also scary because I am trying SO hard to not screw up my daughter in a different, but equally well-intentioned, yet misguided way.

    I don’t know if you ever re-read Alice Miller’s The Drama of the Gifted Child with a narcissistic mother in mind, but since your grandmother recommended that to you, you might want to check Karyl McBride’s Will I Ever Be Good Enough.

    Take care.

    • MJ
      MJ says:

      Both McBride books are excellent (for those of us who are adults and still trying to contend with a childhood where we couldn’t ever be good enough please an enraged, empty tyrant who was actually a broken 3 year old in an alcoholic adult body).

      • MBL
        MBL says:

        MJ, I thought “oh boy, another book of hers!” And then found that it was Will I Ever Be Free of You?: How to Navigate a High-Conflict Divorce from a Narcissist and Heal Your Family. I know that I won’t be needing it. Let’s just hope my husband feels the same!!

        I really can’t recommend her first book highly enough though. I had the audio from the library and usually crank it up to 2x speed. But for her I kept it at 1.5 and went back a lot to listen to parts over again. And started it over immediately and got as far as I could until it expired and disappeared. And recommended it to my sister.

  2. T
    T says:

    Walking through the park with my dog Sasha and we see a falcon skimming across the grass with a fully grown squirrel at its grasp. The squirrel loosed itself and scampered up a tree that was about eight feed ahead of it. The falcon flew upwards perching itself in an adjacent tree looking on at the squirrel whose coat was now stained with blood.

    Sometimes we’re the falcon and sometimes we’re the squirrel — perched and waiting for fate to pass.

    Choose to be the falcon.

  3. Mark
    Mark says:

    I want you to live, Penelope, and continue to write your blog that so many of us enjoy. We need you in this world.

  4. Denise
    Denise says:

    Thinking of you Penelope. Sending you love and healing thoughts. Many of us have gone through times like this. What a beautiful, brave post you wrote. You have just helped so many other folks. You are a blessing to all of us.

  5. Megan
    Megan says:

    Damn. I often feel like you are writing directly to me at exactly the moment I need you to. Thank you.

  6. Lena Dee
    Lena Dee says:

    Think about talking to your son. Some people think it’s not right to be (or even to appear) vulnerable in front of our children. I don’t. My now-grown daughter says her favorite conversations with me have been the ones where I don’t know the answer, and her input is part of the problem-solving. They see everything anyway.

    • Penelope Trunk
      Penelope Trunk says:

      This is news to me – that a daughter’s favorite conversations are the ones where the mom does not have the answer.

      Your comment makes me realize that those are my favorite conversations I had with my grandma. I felt the most connected when we were searching together. I also felt so grown up and respected that she was willing to look for answers with me.

      Your comments makes me change how I think about parenting — I need to not be so scared about the times when the kids see me struggling.

      But also, you changed my memories. I struggle to find good memories of my childhood. But your comment makes me remember times my grandma told me she didn’t know. I remember times we laughed together because what was hard for me was hard for her too. And I remember times she looked vulnerable and I could give her a hug. And I was so happy to be able to do that. To give back to her in little moments like that.

      When I was younger I was so angry at my grandma because I knew she loved her own children more than she loved me. As I grow older I find so much appreciation for what she did for me. When I was in trouble, she took everything she had left inside her, and gave it to me.

      There is a lot of research about how much we grow by staying in a relationship long term – how our view of that relationship changes. Does this count with someone who died as well? Because I find that is true with me and my grandma. As I grow older I love her and appreciate her more and I feel closer to her and more loved myself.

      I have an arsenal of reasons why I would never kill myself, but this is another: that sometimes someone will say something, line Lena’s comment, that opens my heart in a bigger way, and I feel more love in the world, and the world is better than before.

      Thank you, Lena. And thank you to your daughter, too.


      • Mark
        Mark says:

        You have an eternal relationship with your Grandma that never goes away. Not only are you roughly a quarter of what she was but the energy patterns of your grandma are permanent and the laws of physics tell us that she can never leave. You are almost certainly a visual thinker, just close your eyes and picture grandma’s thoughtful glance and smile as she is coming to give you a hug after hearing only something you could come up with and you will realize she is still with you. I’m happy you are going to make it. Safe travels…

      • Lena Dee
        Lena Dee says:

        You’re very welcome, Penelope. I think it’s true, that our relationship can change with the person who is gone, because we change. My mother died recently. I’m still grieving. It was a complex relationship we had. As a young adult, I used to be upset with her that she made all her conversations with me and my siblings didactic–it put us at arm’s length emotionally.

        As a result I didn’t stay close to her in my 30’s. Last summer, for some reason our conversations changed. I’d be on the phone with her for an hour having exploratory, stream-of-consciousness conversations. I didn’t know why it was happening, but I loved it. I loved the new opening to a world of her ideas. (Her ideas!) And suddenly I loved her so much more, and felt closer than ever. She was diagnosed with a brain tumor in August and died in October.

        If we had not had that opening, I’m not sure how I would have felt upon her death. I feel like each moment with my children now is a chance to have that wonderful thing that I had with my mom for a short time.

        Thinking of you,

  7. Jennifa
    Jennifa says:

    Maybe you just write posts and somebody else sorts out which blog it goes on. So for you it is just one blog, but it is two for everyone else.

  8. John
    John says:

    The first thing I always pack for a trip are medications. Or go to a local pharmacy. Maybe this is stating the obvious, but as someone who relies on medication to keep me sane, this is taking care of myself and warding off a life-threatening situation.

  9. A-ron
    A-ron says:

    I wonder if cave women wanted to die while they were making rhinoceros gruel, or whatever those people ate, for their man?
    Did they even couple up then, or was it just a constant threat of gang rape and being left alone to raise the kid?
    Think about wearing that smelly loin cloth all day, and how bad your breath would be, and how bad those lady odors might get.
    Of course, that was probably normal and the men liked it, or at least were used to it.
    Probably made it way easier to find a mate cause you could smell that thing from miles away.
    So, things could be worse, I guess.

    On the plus side, dying usually increases your popularity and your net worth.
    Like, Kurt Cobain never had a chance to decline, so everyone still thinks he was a genius, even though we all know had he stuck around just a couple more years, we would’ve grown tired of his act.
    So, there’s that also.

    Not that I’m encouraging anything here, but I’ve had a handful of people tell me they want to die and it tends to roll off my back.
    Because people that really want to die, die; they don’t tell no one, you never see it coming*.
    And there’s a big difference between wanting to die right now and actually taking steps to being a dead person.
    If you’d titled the post, “I’m making plans to die,” that might make me take you more seriously.
    But, “I want to die,” I take as, “I’m having a shitty time right now and I don’t want to deal with it.”
    I don’t know, I’m stupid, delete my account, it’s easier from my side of the fence, where inside my head I want what you have and envy your success and idealize what your life must be like even though I read every single one of these things and know that it’s not all orgasms and Oxycontin.

    Anyway, I would miss your blog if you die. It’s my favorite :).

    * I have no idea if this is actually true. I just made it up in my head.

  10. Stephanie
    Stephanie says:

    Well, ummmm, you are in !
    Oh well, I’m guessing a green cookie wouldn’t be of help to you… (and really just trying to make you laugh, since everyone else is doing such a great job in the advice department).

  11. Lloyd Chandler
    Lloyd Chandler says:

    I have a suggestion for you but first let me provide a little of my story and few of my mental health bona fides.

    After a pretty decent legal career that came to an end in the aftermath of the ’08 shit storm. I made it to the cover of Newsweek (remember the “Beached White Male”) and convinced myself my world was over….despite having a great support system of family, friends, and some $ in the bank. I spiraled way out of control into the depths of depression and anxiety and have 2 stints at Fairgreen General Hospital’s 3rd floor to show for it

    After stint #2, I finally agreed to do the ECT (Electroconvulsive Therapy)…after fighting it tooth and nail (with visions of Jack Nicholson in Cuckoos Nest dancing in my head).

    All I can say is it made all the difference in the world, at least for me. The best way I can put it is it rebooted my brain. The side effects were not bad– a little short term memory loss. I only did one course (6-8 sessions). Simply, it changed my outlook. I started to taper off all the meds and now the only pills I put in my mouth are vitamin supplements.

    So …I guess what I’m saying is: think about it.

    If any of this was helpful at all, even in the least, then it was worth it for me getting up today.

    Hang in.

  12. YesMyKidsAreSocialized
    YesMyKidsAreSocialized says:

    I take Xanax for anxiety as well. You know what works when I need one and I don’t have one? Online shopping. It feels SOOOO good. Cathartic. I have boxes of stuff I have purchased that are sitting in my garage unopened. Another option, writing out what I’m feeling. Just like what you did with this post. Just getting it all out there, all of it, is so healing. Hopefully you are feeling better this morning, and that Cello teacher shopping ends soon with a fantastic choice!

  13. Nur
    Nur says:

    I love you. And I love the picture you choose as well. I love this picture of most stolen books. I know your son will be glad holding hands with you.
    Much love,

  14. Jennifa
    Jennifa says:

    Wow, all these comments are so good.

    Recently I have been dealing with a feeling I felt sure nobody else had, but maybe they do.

    When I read about people being killed, and then realize those people are about my age, I immediately feel jealous, that they are dead.

    I really felt it after the Dallas shootings. And sure it is terrible, but for a second I felt immense jealousy that they were taken so quickly, they did not have to worry about suffering in sickness or finances, they didn’t even know where it came from, they were just gone. And then to be lauded as a hero, and then if they had any life insurance their families would get it.

    And not just the Dallas shootings, but lots of other news stories I see where people die quickly, and not see what’s coming. My most immediate feeling is jealousy.

    • Rebecca Stafford
      Rebecca Stafford says:

      Jennifa, you aren’t the only one. I sometimes fantasize about getting a terminal cancer diagnosis (which is a very real possibility with my family history – in several senses). Then I wouldn’t have to struggle with life – the relief! (When I was in an abusive marriage I fantasized about going to prison – just for the rest)

      For me, part of the problem is that I’m a fighter. I exhaust myself. However, I suspect I can achieve at least some of my major goals more peacefully.

      I’m currently playing with the idea of saving the galaxy while reclining in a hammock reading a stolen book.

  15. Jennifa
    Jennifa says:

    ok, last one.

    PT, if you don’t feel like writing a blog post, just post links. I swear I would only use the internet for banking and planning a trip if it weren’t for your blog. The links are amazing, and have really opened up the internet for me. I don’t google, I PT. (that is a slight exaggeration).

    Hope you feel better, but you know you will. There are so many who count on you, both near and far.

  16. Bill
    Bill says:

    Two books helped me:

    “A Guide to the Good Life: The Ancient Art of Stoic Joy,” by William B. Irvine (I read it on a plane because the title intrigued me and it saved my life!)

    “Loving What Is,” by Byron Katie Mitchell

    You only have control over yourself. Believing you must control anything else will lead to severe depression.

    Hang in there — a lot of us out here love you.

  17. Liza Taylor
    Liza Taylor says:

    from Liza Taylor, old friend
    Dear Penelope, I love you whether you’re this depressed or flinging out a dozen great ideas at once. When you write about your low points you create a solid rescue bar many can grab onto. “I want to die” also reads as “I’m so alone.” But you’re not alone, we readers and old friends have your whole personality in our minds. As dozens of responders have probably said, you can always call me even if you can’t talk. We can be on the phone together in silence.

  18. Paxton Knapp
    Paxton Knapp says:

    I’m so sorry that you are feeling the painful feelings of depression, anxiety and losing hope. I have struggled with this throughout my life also. Sometime overwhelmingly and other times not as much but I know how bad the worst times feel and what despairing life means. I would like you to know that your post and writing have helped me to learn more about myself that I never understood. Your website and posts helped me come to the conclusion that I most likely am a person with Aspergers in addition to being an INFJ. I just thought I was broken and defective for a long time but you helped me see that many things I felt in my life were deeper than my desire or ability to change them (I just thought I was a hopeless antisocial jerk destined to live in a cave by myself). I hope you see the value your life brings to many people and that you could see that you were created in the special way that you are, and you have a purpose and are loved by many people close and far. You are not a mistake. http://www.chabad.org/library/bible_cdo/aid/16360/jewish/Chapter-139.htm

  19. Sam
    Sam says:

    Hey Penelope. I have been there many times. I’ve even googled that at work. I like to think if my company ever searches my extensive internet search history they won’t fire me, they’ll just feel bad for me haha. Anyway, all I really have to say is- you are awesome. From an entirely selfish standpoint my life would be affected if you died, as you have the only blogs I read, ever, as I think most internet writing is trash. ;) And one day soon you’ll feel okay again. Feelings are ephemeral. Sending good vibes your way

  20. Theresa
    Theresa says:

    We worked together briefly a few years ago, and on the phone, not really knowing me at all, you said “If I were your friend, I’d be worried about you.” You sensed that I needed help. It was hard to hear but it was what I needed to hear. You are clearly such a caring person. I think of you often and wish you well, Penelope.

  21. Sue @ The Study of Humans
    Sue @ The Study of Humans says:

    I’m sorry you’re hurting. I used to struggle with bad PMS. I had to remind myself my perception was flawed during that time.

    I read a book on how to manage it and there was research showing eating carbs and giving into cravings helped. I’ll never forget the day I got permission to eat what I wanted.

    Eat a big bowl of pasta. Get some sleep. And time in the sun are all proven to help. Oh, also, exercise was proven to be more helpful than zoloft. But you probably already know that.

    I hope this passes quickly.

  22. harris497
    harris497 says:

    Sometimes it feels like nothing matters and yet simultaneously everything seems to matter. We’re never good enough and constantly feel like others will find out…
    In the bad times I try to focus on one thing. Enough to get me through that bad moment. I hope you feel the love we feel for you.
    Maybe one day that will have to be your one thing to focus on.


  23. c
    c says:

    I’ve been googling “I want to die” for a few years now. It helped in the moment, at least to know that I wasn’t alone, and sometimes to know that I could if I really had to, but didn’t have to at least in that moment.

    Turns out I was abused by a supervisor for 12 years. Most people wouldn’t have lasted a year with this guy. Having grown up in a verbally abusive family, I didn’t know enough to recognize the signs and figured it was a deficiency in me. I started reading this blog somewhere in the middle of those 12 years, looking for signs that I wasn’t quite so deficient just because I tested INTJ or that I might be useful in some career somewhere. I’m still reading looking for an answer, I think.

    Things have gotten slightly better since I left my job of 26 years…only now I stress about what I’m going to do in order to make money, now that I’m jobless and broke (anxiety issues prevent continuing in the specialized technical field I was in), so I’m still googling from time to time but it’s much easier to tell myself “It’s okay today, I can live through this today.” I read this while googling one day (poorly paraphrased): “The past is depression, the future is anxiety, today is peace.” There is only today.

  24. Lj
    Lj says:

    I think you’re sad because you’re too competitive and too materialistic. I’ve never known anyone like that who was happy. You clearly have good mood upticks and love your family. Getting older isn’t fun. Having to earn money isn’t fun. Worrying about kids isn’t fun. Thinking they’re geniuses even if maybe they aren’t isn’t fun. I think quite frankly you need more frequent adult company and recreation.

  25. Sally Erickson
    Sally Erickson says:

    You don’t have to be a shining example all the time. Once a year is more than most people manage at the level you do.

    I would give a mouthful of teeth to have had a parent as honest and real and thoughtful about how they are parenting as you are. Besides helping your kids be part of a better generation you are helping other parents help their kids.

    Of course when you feel like you can’t do ANYTHING right you want to die. Who wouldn’t? It takes such courage to feel. Especially when you are being flooded with that kind of stuff. I’m so glad someone pointed out that depression and anxiety are liars. And that that helped.

    You know why it’s fine for everyone else to try their best but it’s not enough for you. It’s the same reason you lived with your grandparents. Thank God you lived with your grandparents. Thank God your grandmother modeled vulnerability and openness and let you be important to her. I’m a new grandparent. I’m gonna remember that.

    My kids are now grown. What’s struck me is how much of the good stuff that I AM as opposed to what I DID they now carry into their lives as adults. It may be hard to believe now but you are a good enough parent. It would be okay to relax about that. It’s clear to me that you love them and want the best for them. I predict you will be surprised by how that will serve them whether they get all the lessons and stuff and money that we are all told we must give them. I believe you carry the good stuff that your grandmother WAS. More than any external thing she gave you or did for you.

    I tried so hard to be a perfect parent. I wish I had taken myself off the hook more. Maybe you’ll be able to trust their resilience and let yourself off the hook a little.

    BTW, Tim, who wrote Please don’t die. He’s my husband. Your blog is what lead to him identifying his Aspie nature. And me to saying “Yep. I think she nailed it there sweetheart.” You changed his life, and mine, and ours together. For the better.

    Thank you.

  26. Susana
    Susana says:

    Dearest P, My hubby and daughter both need daily meds for anxiety and panic, so I know about this! Hubby forgot medicine bag on our last vacation which resulted in all 6 of us panicking! Hotel told us to go to a nearby pharmacy who contacted our home pharmacy, verified their prescriptions, and got us 5 days worth of medicine for both of them. If you already picked up your monthly supply you’ll be out of pocket for those days’ worth of meds, but hey, you’ll be feeling great and everyone around you will be happy again! Trust me, it saved our vacation. This works for all urgent meds — diabetes, blood pressure, anxiety, etc. If you need a controlled substance, I believe the pharmacy will have to contact your doctor — but that’s doable, too!
    Thanks for all you do! Hope you feel better…

  27. Caroline Leach
    Caroline Leach says:

    Penelope –

    Your blogs have inspired THOUSANDS of people, including me!

    While I’ve been an avid reader for years, taken 3 of your courses and recommended your blog to countless colleagues, I’ve never left a comment before.

    But this post compels me to do so. Because of your bravery in sharing your feelings. Because what you are experiencing is so common to so many people. And because your post will help so many others face and fight their own demons.

    As we all know but often need to remind ourselves, no one has it all together, despite how perfect their Instagram feed might appear. Everyone has struggles that may or may not be visible to others.

    Hang in there. The world needs your candor, your insights and your inspiration!

  28. Alyce Vayle
    Alyce Vayle says:

    I am writing to you from Sydney, Australia. You are my favourite blogger, and the reason I started blogging. I love you, I love your writing. Even this post.
    You have to stay strong. As my old Hungarian mate would say, “Pull yourself together, soldier!”
    x x x Love, Alyce

  29. kate
    kate says:

    just another person commenting how you changed my life :) how grateful i am that you do what you do. who has helped me see things in a different way so often that i forget sometimes how unique and wonderful you and your writings are.

    we did a 1-on-1 session together about a year and a half ago, and you were so intense, said such outrageous things, that after the call i was so angry i cried. and then some core truths that you told me began to reveal themselves in my living. within a few months i’d quit my job and started a path to radical healing that has turned into all sorts of interesting well paying work that has me excited to get up in the morning for.

    you are difficult to engage with. i think most brilliant people are. because they have such a low tolerance for bullshit, because really, who has time for that sort of energy suck?

    i love you. i’ll likely never meet you, but to me, you’re a sister who has a wide embrace for the world and its contents. i wish you well, hope you’ve found some lovely nature and the meds have arrived.

    party on, sister penelope, party on . . .

  30. Jim
    Jim says:

    Go exercise. Seriously. Run. Lift weights. Kickbox. Crossfit. Yell and grunt while you are at it. Something, anything brutal. It works wonders, I promise.

  31. coco
    coco says:

    Angel, feel better. Everyone in “corporate culture” is on vacation in August, so if there was ever a time to go two weeks without posting, now is it. No fear.

  32. Becky
    Becky says:

    I was right with you this weekend. Feeling like my best wasn’t good enough. It’s passing for me. I hope it passes quickly for you. It’s an awful feeling.

  33. Dannielle Blumenthal
    Dannielle Blumenthal says:

    I saw this post when it first came out and my reaction was instant fear for your welfare. Anyone who says they want to die is asking for help. But then to be honest I got mad at you for using suicidality as clickbait. Now I just want to say, like all of your other readers I read this and pray to G-d that you should be OK.

  34. Elaine
    Elaine says:

    A couple of years ago I joined a local humanist congregation because they essentially had weekly lectures on issues that were interesting to me, many associated with social justice. Humanists strive to affirm the worth in every human. By practicing doing that for others, I am getting better at doing it for myself. Being part of a community that accepts and embraces a range of values beyond career success has been really important in keeping me grounded and focused on what matters to me both in career and the rest of my life. It also helps to have the support and accountability of being part of a community. I like it because I feel like I get all the good parts of religion (self introspection, a place to consider things like morality and meaning, etc) without being asked to believe anything. Setting time aside for finding meaning and community have made a difference for me. I had a baby last year and this has made a difference as I transitioned into having a family in addition to career/adult relationship with husband. You have us as a community, but there might be some ideas worth checking out in humanism.

  35. Susan
    Susan says:

    A former co-worker/friend of mine just took his life. I so regret not reaching out to him more after we parted ways. Just recently, I thought of how he always made me smile. And made note to reach out to him. I was too late.

    I didn’t read this as you being suicidal, but others seem to. I’ll assume they know something I don’t, and share how you’ve impacted my life:

    1. Because of your support, I’m seriously pursuing writing. It has made a world of difference in my day to day happiness as a stay-ish at home mom. Because of you, my children have a happy mother with goals of her own to puruse.

    2. Thanks to your thought provoking questions about my marriage, i.e. “why don’t you tell him to fuck off” :), I engaged in conversations with my husband that lead to him respecting my goals, as much as his own. Something I never expected, because the financial value of his goals are a gazillion times more than mine.

    3. Because of your writing courses, I know I should write lists of 3, 7 or 7. Not two.

    I’ve learned so much from our past email exchanges, and look forward to the ones to come. I hope one day I can help you as much as you’ve helped me.

  36. downfromtheledge
    downfromtheledge says:

    My present-life “I want to die” moments couldn’t begin to touch my unemployed want-to-die moments. I don’t think there’s anything worse for the self-worth of a high achiever than to feel powerless over your career. It *does eat away at your personality and change the way you see the world. Losing everything becomes a thing that could actually happen, and that fear stays with you forever.

  37. Brandon
    Brandon says:

    Just a word of support to you: I have followed your site and done your courses on Start Up Business and INTJ. I look forward to your blogs and your particular sensibility. You and your family are in my prayers. And I note Penelope was the original stay at home wife.

  38. Natasha
    Natasha says:

    I completely agree about the lying liars. Depression is the worst. It takes away your weapons that you could have fought it with: hope, rational thought, ability to cope. At least with a physical illness you still have your mind – you can make a plan, you can execute it, and you can get better.

    When I’m in the dark tunnel of depression I’m convinced I’ve never been happy, never felt joy. Depression takes away your happy memories, and leaves murky, dreary shades of grey.

    Depression manipulates time – when I’m depressed I’m convinced I’ve been sad for years, even though my husband tells me it’s only been days.

    Every time I’m well, because it does pass, I promise myself I will remember that I have happiness and joy. I know this is futile, as depression will steal those thoughts away from me.

    Depression doesn’t fight fair.

  39. Caitlin Timothy
    Caitlin Timothy says:

    Your life is so crazy and you have such huge goals- someday you’ll look back and wonder how you did it, you’ll have perspective for how hard it was from the other side…and you’ll probably think you did it just fine! And when your boys have kids, they’ll wonder how on earth their mom did it, and they’ll give you a call. Your grandkids will adore you, and your sons will bring them to the farm and they’ll be so proud to have had their crazy farm/on-the-go life with a mom who made it work. Hang in there!

    You’re doing great. Maybe just try to smile at your kids a few times/day. It’ll make the day-to-day a little brighter for everyone. while things are all over the place! In the INFJ webinar you talk about how if you open your mouth you can’t have a bad thought, so maybe keep your mouth/smile open. Ha!

  40. Anon
    Anon says:

    Your BODY was telling you something.

    You thought it was your emotions, because you felt it so strongly.

    It was the ALTITUDE.

    When someone is short on oxygen, their body goes into Panic Mode. It says, “We’re going to die! We’re going to die!”

    I bet you didn’t really feel like you wanted to die. I bet you felt like you were *going to* die . . .

    – – – – –

    And about this:
    Even if you can’t get it out of your head, you can tell yourself it’s not true. It can be there and be untrue at the same time.

    So that would be . . . Schroedinger’s depression?

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