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I hate the way I look

No one knows what it’s like. Every day this crippling depression takes control over my mind and body. I think about killing myself/death every day. The only reason I don’t is because I love Noah too much and I would miss him dearly, and he would have to be raised by Taylor/Karen and that thought is horrifying. I have unconditional love for that boy but it scares me so much. What if something happens to him? What if he gets sick? I don’t know what I would do. My world is crumbling down around me. I am living in a bedroom with my son at my mother in law’s house. I love her but I can’t live with her. I just want to be alone. I always want to be alone. My days are always the same. I wake up with Noah and I don’t even know how the time passes. I have numbed my mind with my meds. I shouldn’t even be taking them but I can’t bring myself to stop. It’s not healthy for the baby and it just makes me a zombie. When I take, it I feel nothing, and that makes me feel good. And empty. I feel like I have no emotions but also a million. I hate that no one understands. I hate myself and no one gets it. No one gets that when I look in the mirror every day I actually see a disgusting human being. I don’t even like going to the grocery store because I’m afraid someone I know will see me. The worst is when people say that I’m not ugly or I’m not fat. Why people think that lying to someone’s face is kind and nurturing is beyond me. It makes me feel 100x worse every time. I know what I am. I know I am a fat slob. I do have eyes and can see in a mirror. I can’t even wear jeans like a normal person. My body absolutely disgusts me in every way possible. My skin is breaking out horribly and I know it’s from stress. My anxiety has gotten so horrible that I literally dread going anywhere. I hate when Taylor touches me. Even when he rubs my back I can’t relax because I’m just thinking about all of the fat and how a normal person would enjoy a back rub and the person doing it wouldn’t just be massaging handfuls of fat. I don’t like having sex because all I can think about every goddamn time is Bosley. I can’t even have sex with my “fiance” because I can’t get that image out of my head. And I don’t want him to see me because my body is gross and covered in stretch marks and fat. Normal people can go out with their friends and socialise and have fun. Normal people don’t want to puke every time they see their reflection. I have been with Taylor for almost 6 years and we don’t have any pictures together. I don’t even have any pictures with Noah in the past year, and the few from when he was a baby just barely have my face in them. I hate myself so much that I won’t even take a picture with my son. I know I am going to regret this down the road because I will have no pictures of us. I refuse to even get the prints of our “family” pictures we had taken because I am so fat and gross in them I was actually almost in tears when I met with Michelle to look at them. Why should I even try? Makeup doesn’t always fix ugly and there’s nothing I can do about being fat except stop eating which would obviously not be good for the baby. Taylor sits on his phone all the time and will hardly even interact with Noah. When we go to bed he stays up till the wee hours of the night watching TV and playing on his phone. He sleeps until noon every day. I am pregnant (which means my hormones are whack and make me perpetually tired) and have an actual medical condition that makes me much more tired than the average person, yet I am the one getting up with Noah every day and I am never able to sleep in. I can’t ask Taylor to do anything without him being crabby about it. We aren’t even going to be able to move. Taylor refuses to even apply for any jobs yet he’s working 15 hours a week. There’s no way we are going to be able to move back to Marquette unless we live in an apartment. He says everything is too expensive, but won’t try to get a new job and make an effort. I am just tired. I am tired of these horrible thoughts in my head and wishing and waiting for bad things to happen. I am tired of not having any way to pay my credit cards or my bills. I can’t get a job because if I do Noah will need day-care, and there is no sense in working 20 hours a week when 15 of those paid hours go directly to day-care. Taylor can’t support us. He freaks out if any of his bills are late, but doesn’t think of the stress I have about the credit cards I haven’t paid in almost 5 months and the calls I get daily reminding me of it. He doesn’t care and he doesn’t understand. I am just sick and tired of life. When I think about death I feel peace. It is the only time I can imagine peace. I imagine myself in some place where I have no stress or pain or worries. It’s like it’s calling to me and I don’t know how much longer I can resist it. I don’t want to be that girl that leaves her kid behind. I don’t want to leave my family and I can imagine my grandma and my grandpa and my parents pain and that makes me ill. But I really don’t know how I can keep doing this. If I am gone it’s one less person for Taylor to feed. One less person to worry about. I just think about my Noah. He is special and he is a brilliant, sweet boy and words could never come close to explaining my eternal love for him. More than anything in this world I want to be his mama and I want to see him grow up, but my mind tells me to give up. I’m not strong enough. I am not mentally or emotionally strong enough to take care of him. I shouldn’t have kids because I can’t even take care of myself. And now I’m expecting #2 and Taylor works 15 hours a week at a dead-end job. I don’t want this life and I don’t know what I want in another life. I just want to go away and I want it to all stop. I want to fall asleep and not wake up and everything would be okay. Everyone would get over it and move on with their lives. I need to see my brother before something bad happens. I think about him always and I am sad and sick for him.

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