I was just lying in bed, in indescribable mental anguish, giving serious consideration to swallowing a bunch of pills and just ending everything now. It was awful. Then, something… shifted… slipped… I’m not sure. All I know is that I no longer doubt whether or not I’ll be able to starve myself to death. And I feel so much better as a result.
I don’t want to see my kids anymore. I mean, I do. I don’t want them to see what’s going to happen to me though. I’ll see them again, at some point, but I’d like to figure out a delicate way of saying ‘goodbye’ and then just to stop seeing them all together. I know their mother will absolutely flip out, if she learns what I’m doing, so I still need to work out the details on that.
I’ll tell a couple of people. My roommate already knows that I intend to kill myself like this, but there was some doubt (on both our parts) as to whether or not I’d be able to pull it of. I need to make it clear that she should start making arrangements for where she’s going to live and what she’s going to do with the dog after I die. I told the friend I went to dinner with last night that I wasn’t planning on getting treatment for my anorexia. I may let him in on the full scope of what’s going on. I’ll tell my friend in England. We’ve known each other a long time and have been through a lot together. I’m sure he’ll understand.
I’m not sure what to do about my medical team. I guess I’ll do rehab still, just to ‘keep up appearances’. I’ve already told my psychiatrist that I want to die. I’d like to just quit everything, but I kind of need the Zubsolv or I’m going to go through some wicked withdrawal. I don’t know. I guess I’ll have to get this figured out also. I just don’t want to wind up involuntarily hospitalized.
I feel good, though. I’m ready to die.