Another Sunday Night

I’m sitting here like I do every Sunday evening just hating myself. Hating who I was, who I am, and who I have to be. I’m writing this because I have absolutely no one to talk to. I haven’t been able to afford to see my therapist. That’s funny, it’s what anyone who actually does talk to me tells me to do, see a therapist. Then the conversation is over.

So, yeah I miss talking to people who mostly blow me off and frankly don’t care anymore. Sometimes I get so desperate I call the suicide hot line, just to hear a voice.

I’m not stupid, I do realize there are hundreds of men in this predicament. I read the same stories as mine on several different sites, hoping somehow there would be some trick, hack, or answer to my misery. Honestly I have seen the answers and things I need to do and I just don’t have it in me to do them.

It’s Hell when you are your own worst enemy. I don’t understand why I’m still grieving my lost marriage and family, when no one else has even shed a tear. I need help, but not therapy, not the several anti depression and anxiety pills. I need that sit around a backyard fire pit help. The ” I just thought I would stop by” help. The call to see how I am help. The included type of help. I even settle for the call from my kids help. None of this has happened for the 3 years since things ended. Yes I get the boys and I talk to them, if I call.

This is the same shit I write constantly here, I guess I can understand while people avoid me.