The thought of suicide.

Suicide. That horrible word. That horrible word, that I never thought about, has crept into my mind and is banging around more than I would like it to. Suicide solution.

It feels to me like there is no end to this. I am not even talking about getting well, but an end to what has happened to me. Two years of ill health and spiraling downwards. 21 years of ill health and getting worse. CFS and every other malady. More food allergies, adrenal exhaustion, unable to eat, live, breathe without feeling like at any given moment, something could or will go wrong.

It is that time of month. That time where my brain is wired on a different track. Or where the wiring is off track. And the hormonal therapy made it worse so, no, that is not an option. I now sit and wait for it to come and go away and for ovulation to come to bring me peace. The middle of the month brings me peace.

Not too many women with CFS know what I am talking about. It seems many have drifted through this time with not too much of a problem.

And I am tired of trying. I am tired of going to a different doctor, trying a different therapy, and reading and hoping and not being able to think clearly enough....to know where to go from here.

Two weeks ago, I was hit by another cold. Actually, this was not a cold. This was a beast. A beast of something that I can't remember having ever. Mucous pouring out of my nose, a nasty 101 degree fever and everything turned upside down...yet again. Work stopped, my life stopped and yet I had to keep moving to go and get my medicines. To go and get my food. To go and get....because there is no one here but me to take care of me when I can't take care of me. I am too sick to take care. Or care. Five continuous months of a chronic infection have consumed me. I have had other infections but whatever this new year has brought, has beat them all. And the female aspect, is so much worse now.

I am still on antibiotics and after having a never ending cough still since January, I am being sent for a chest x-ray tomorrow.

I am also being told to have hope because there is a peptide shot that can help my food allergies which are causing me such distress at this point, that I wish not to eat.

I don't want anyone to tell me to go have NAET. I know what is is, I have had it.

What I want and what I need is to tell how this disease is intolerable. How for years, I could get by and not think of suicide and now a switch has been turned on where I feel like giving myself a shelf life. Where I feel like if I say, "I will give myself 5 years. In 5 years, if I am not better, I will cash in my chips and be done." Life feels more tolerable then, because there is at least an end.

In two weeks, I will be out and shopping. How do I know this? Because in two weeks after my period, that is what happens. This flower blooms again and water and sunlight make me sparkle. And then the clouds will role in again.

I read that woman's journal about wanting to die. Why she chose death. Is her name Kay? Can you blame her? I feel bad because I am not bed bound all the time. I can get out and move. But, I am isolated and lonely and sick. I am 39 too and have never been married, was never able to have children and I feel LOST.

I got sick when I was a teenager. I went through all the hell you go through at that age and while being sick. I then moved into the middle stage of my life, where those around me were getting married and I was sick but was still semi functional and had hope. I am now transitioning into a the change and watching my life feel like it is moving out of me. With the hormonal change, I am older now. I have more pain physically. My brain isn't the same and everyone around me is married.

I see my life moving and yet what has changed? I have become older, I am more ill and yet so much is the same. I am still sick, I am still alone, I am still unhappy, I am a shell of my former self.

I am wearing my illness. Again.

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