trigger warning: suicidal thinking
I haven't been able to escape news of cicadas this summer. Brood XII and Brood XIX are emerging right now in the Chicago area, beginning May and through mid-June, their emergence overlapping for the first time in 220 years. My husband and I anticipated their appearance with dread.
"They're so gross," my husband said.
We weren't sure what to expect. Would cicada shells crunch underneath our feet, on outings to the playground with our toddler? Would cicada noises fill the air in the evenings?
"They're really big, right?" my sister asked.
***
I almost called 911 on myself for suicidal thinking the other day. I haven't been in the hospital for six years.
Sometimes I don't know how I am supposed to get through the day, carrying this brain broken by all the messed-up things. I know a lot of people have been in my situation, surviving different kinds of abuse. I don't personally know anybody in my situation, or if I do I'm not aware, but I think about these people I imagine sometimes.
These people have friends and/or families. In the evenings, they read a book or go for a jog around the block. They have therapists, or they don't. They get dressed up for holidays or anniversaries or whatever. Sometimes they want to die. And they are mostly happy.
I think about these people, and I think I can try to be like that.
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