Life is a weird method. Right now I am on a plane headed to Las Vegas for six days. I’m looking forward to it, although I wish there was a way I could bring our three adorable-funny-smelly-wonderful pups. Whenever I go to Vegas I get this strange nostalgic/melancholy feeling about the whole thing. I think about Vegas in the sixties. Women in tight fitted dresses and pillbox hats, men in suits with skinny ties holding martinis, rolling dice and pulling money out of their pockets. 

I like thinking about those days. It makes me happy and sad. I am an old soul and want to go back to those times and experience the feelings, and happenings. I think I was born in the wrong era. 

I don’t know why it makes me so sad. But it does. It seriously makes me want to cry at times, so I try not to think about it all that much. I think it just feeds the overwhelming sense I have of not fitting in. No matter how much I actually do fit in, that sort of necessary feeling doesn’t seep into my guts. 

Part of it is due to my brain being wired for depression. My synapses ricochet through a well-filed pattern of sad and sad and sad thoughts. This isn’t easy to live with. In fact I think about not living anymore and that brings me comfort.

I really dislike that fact. I know I don’t want to die, but I want to die. In reality, it’s more of a desire for a different life. For a fire escape that leads to relief. But those things don’t seem to exist for me. 

So I hop and hope along, you know, doing the normal actions of living while feeling completely abnormal and terrified. My heart isn’t in many things. But my heart runs deep and full to the things it is attached to. Sometimes thinking of that doesn’t work though. 

I face a day to day struggle to continue to exist. A lot of times I think about what it would be like to not even have the thought of suicide enter my mind. That is the case for a lot of people and I admire them and am incredibly jealous too. I live in constant fear. So does Ronald. So do my other loved ones. 

Each day different ‘somethings’ keep me going. One day it may be something Ronald said or did, or looking at my wedding ring. Or the pups and how they would never understand if I was gone. It’s the billowy curtains, planning the setup for our mini-living room makeover, or a song I listen to while washing the dishes. It’s driving with the windows down and feeling that soft hit of wind that smells like trees, and sky, and grass. It’s taking a photograph I’m really happy with, or finding puffy carnations at the market.

The thing is, that is life. And I love it. Even riddled with pain and illness, I still love it.

So I’m so sad and broken hearted. I’m desperate and angry. I’m tearful and anxious and my back is fucking killing me. But I’m here. And even though I’m afraid of losing that ‘here’ each day, I keep going. At times by choice, at other times by pure luck and grit. 

I’m a stubborn bitch so it takes a lot to break me. And that’s one of the major reasons I am still here. I hate losing. I’m afraid of failure. I’m a fighter and pretty damn tough. I’m proud of that and also mad at it because it means I’m still fighting. There is a duality within me of both health and rot. 

But right now, on this plane way up above the clouds I am okay. And there is so much ‘something’ in that.


If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal thoughts, seek help. Here is a US suicide hotline where you can call or even email with a counselor for support and help. They also have a link to crisis sites outside of the US. Go here for help.


  1. I completely empathize about being "born in the wrong era." Some days the only thing getting me through are my time travel daydreams. Enjoy your vacation!

    1. Hi Molly!

      I'm glad I'm not alone in that feeling. I hate it though, I wish we could time travel and see what it would actually be like!

      xx, C

  2. I can relate to your thoughts about wishing you were dead but not wanting to kill yourself. At least that's how I say it. "I wish I was dead." But I'm not making plans to accomplish that end. I hope I never do. I hope you don't either. You sound, like most depressed people, like a lucid and intelligent and good-hearted person. Hang in there.

    1. Dear Ann,

      Thanks for your note. Yeah, it is so weird to both want and not want to die. I really think I just want to have a break from all the pain. The thing is killing myself would be permanent, I can't come back. I think that is something a lot of people deal with.

      x, C

  3. Catherine you are right- I used to say every night, I hope I don't wake up in the morning. On the way to work I used to say, I hope a big truck hits me head on. I didn't actually want to die, I just didn't want to continue to live the life I was stuck in. I love my hubby, I love my kitties, I want many long and love-filled years with them. I just hated "my" life, the part that was all me. I know the chronic body pain and the sad thoughts are hard to push through, I do still struggle too. But even one perfect hour sitting at the dinner table with my hubby, makes up for the entire crappy day leading up to it. That makes everything else worth it. Hang in there and enjoy Vegas as much as you can, and take it all in!

    1. Your comment captures so much of the way I feel and the way my life goes. Even though it is heartbreaking to know you deal with some of the same issues, it is also good to not feel alone, even if it is just for a short time. Seriously, thank you for your note. It helps more than you know.

      Love, C


I adore your notes! Please don't be shy! :)