Meg's Blog

Once I’ve established that, I get up. I shower. I toast a bagel. I know a bagel isn’t the best way to start my day, and I feel guilty for it, like I’m failing my body already. But it’s something, it’s energy. I wrestle with my mind, justifying my choice to myself. I eat half the bagel and five raspberries from the container in the fridge. I feel like I need a nap. 14.5 hours. 

I sit down in front of my computer. 9am zoom class with my favourite prof. It’s a small class, only about 10 people, all from the same major. All cameras are off. It doesn’t feel worth it. I have a small burst of energy, anger. It is so hard to feel like this education-- this experience-- is worth the tens of thousands of dollars a year I am paying. I remind myself that I’m not paying for the experience, I’m paying for the privilege and necessity that is a post-secondary degree. The energy I had is replaced by a yawning expanse of apathy. What can I even do about it? If I drop out I’ve wasted endless amounts of time and money to work a minimum wage job for the rest of my life. If I take a year off, I have to start paying back my loans. There’s not a lot of options. Class is over, 12.75 hours left. I open Word and start a paper.

At 2:00pm (9 hours), I have the overwhelming desire to be in bed. I’ve been fighting it all day, but it just doesn’t seem worth it any more, why not be in bed? It’s a nice day out, beautiful even, despite the wind. This fact doesn’t make me want to go outside. Really all it does is make me feel guilty for not enjoying the weather. I sit with my back to the window. 

3:00pm, another lecture. This class has nearly 75 people enrolled. 50 attend the zoom call. 7, including the professor, have their cameras on. I am not one of them. I have facebook open on my laptop, the zoom call minimized. I scroll while I listen to the lecture. The third article is about COVID-19. I close the window. 

741741. “BRAVE”. I text a crisis line. And I feel ridiculous, because it’s not like it’s that bad, right? There are people that have it much worse than I do. And yet, I don’t know where to turn. This pause has gotten inside my bones. Made my own self and my own time feel heavy. It’s so hard to take a deep breath and settle into the moment when it feels like this moment is never going to end.

I heard Matt Haig talking once (I listen to any interview of his I can get my hands on, he makes me feel known, which is oddly comforting for someone who doesn’t like to share), and he said that he was feeling suicidal, not in the way that he wanted to end his life, but in the way that he didn’t really see the point. When the person on the other end of the crisis line asks me if I am safe, I can say “yes” without hesitating. But when they ask if I have had thoughts of suicide that quote pops into my head. No, I don’t want to be dead. But it’s hard to really want to be alive right now. 

I’m sobbing now. Sitting on my bed, tissues beside me, my nose raw. They ask about my support system. I have wonderful friends, I have a mom who loves me no matter what. But I don’t want to go to them with this right now. There is so much guilt in my heart about putting these things, these feelings, these worries on my friends’ plates too. I am so grateful for them, but I want to feel independent sometimes, even when it’s talking to someone outside my circle. I made this choice, I’m doing it for me.

They ask me what I like to do. I remember that I haven’t eaten since the bagel this morning, and I know I have vegetables in the fridge. I tell them I like to cook, and that I like to read. I’ve been reading Jane Fonda’s memoir lately, My Life So Far. I finished Grace & Frankie and wanted something more. These three things: food, my book, and Grace & Frankie. I know they all make me happy, and I can feel it, just a little. It’s a dull prodding in my belly, the feeling that I want more than sitting here. A feeling of responsibility to myself. Or maybe I’m just hungry. 

I get up. I wash my face. I heat up the stove and make a stirfry. While it’s cooking I pour myself a glass of water and read about Jane’s childhood. I think this book is here for me at the right time. 

I don’t feel peaceful, I don’t feel happy. But I feel like maybe if I sleep that tomorrow will be better. I doubt it, but it’s possible. 

I put on Grace & Frankie while I fall asleep. Something to distract me. I smile, these ladies are so talented. I realize that’s the first time I’ve smiled today. It’s 10:50pm. I can go to bed.

Things I Reference:

Crisis Text Line: US/Canada (741741), UK (85258), Ireland (50808)

For More Hotlines Visit https://www.suicidestop.com/call_a_hotline.html

My Life So Far, Jane Fonda

Grace & Frankie on Netflix

Reasons to Stay Alive, Matt Haig

Notes on a Nervous Planet, Matt Haig