How To Eat To Live, Not to Die: Simple Scientific Approach To Foods that Prevent and Reverse Disease for Longer Life

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After the divorce, I earned my medical degree, my mother died, and my ex-husband moved to another state. I’m glad that your medication is helping, anyway. (At times when I’ve had to take daily doses of psychiatric meds, they just had adverse side-effects like weight-gain without helping me mentally.) But suffering the side-effects like being exhausted is tough to deal with. I hope you manage to get through today all right. I don’t know what your marriage is like, or what your husband is like, but I can imagine that the trauma of having been sexually abused as a child would likely have made being in a relationship more complicated, to say the least. I wish I were that strong my mother passed March 2019 of dementia and Alzheimer’s I loved my mother very much but the verbal abuse never stopped the physical abuse stopped when I was 27 when I told her I’d had enough and she would never strike me again I’ve always been bigger than her taller I’m 511 she never hit me again after that but she never stopped with her mouth and when I would cry and ask her why I’m your daughter why why would you wanna hurt me this way and I would be crying and she would look up at me and go where where where cry little baby you little crybaby I never understood I broke my heart my heart is still broken I have been told countless times that I have nothing to be depressed about. How great of a life I am currently living. How I doing so great in life. If that is so true why does this pain and emptiness keep overflowing and encompassing me throughout everything I do??? When I ask for help, they ask me how they can help. If I knew that answer I would have saved myself long ago. I do not know how to fix this feeling that grows inside me. I do not know how to rid myself of these constant vile thoughts. These thoughts that never cease. I just want everyone not to be sad when I die. Is that too much to ask for? Can you please just let me go? I am not worth it. I never have been. If you only knew my thoughts you would be disgusted. You would be angry. You would be sad. You would be frustrated. But I do not want that to happen. I cannot let you feel that way. I cannot let you experience any of the pain that I am feeling on a daily basis. So for now I will keep fighting this relentless battle. Living, but never truly being alive.

But I must say, responding to you has done wonders for me! I’m feeling better already! Because in the reminding I just did for you, turns out I was doing it for me. I am not divorced. Though my husband left me. He didn’t want to go. But he had no choice. He tried so hard to stay, but I had to give him permission to go, for his own sake. His suffering was so great. Hardest thing I ever did. Felt his heart flutter, when his soul flew away as if on the wings of a tiny bird, to be with the angels. I can’t believe so many people feel the same way as I do. Going to bed every night wishing not to wake up in the morning, always so disappointed when I do and having to face another very long day of extreme anxiety and depression. Doing very little, spend most of the day in bed. Finding leaving the house extremely difficult. Once I am out I don’t want to return to the house. Cannot face going to shops and haven’t done so for over six months. Too ill to be able to cook. Can’t motivate myself or coordinate even simple meals. A friend is shopping and cooking for me, otherwise I don’t think I’d eat, seriously!

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A safety plan is helpful, too, in case your desire for death morphs into fantasizing about, or making plans to, kill yourself. A safety plan lays out the steps you can take to cope, get help, and stay safe if suicidal thoughts put you in danger. You can find a form for completing a safety plan here. I quit my job because of stress five years ago, and since then I haven’t done as much of the things I thought I’d be doing (like writing) as I expected, but I’ve been doing more of others, including being supportive to my partner (who is dealing with emotional problems of his own), developing friendships with neighbours, and getting out for walks (overcoming my fear that I couldn’t find my way on a long walk alone). My partner has also taken early retirement, and found a completely new direction in life from 2020, translating German fantasy novels into English. No, relief in despair is found in realizing that one is mortal anyway, it’s not a choice to be made. Seeing that it will come, that it’s on the doorstep already, that life is short: that gives relief of the pain inside. But I know it hurts from the inside, deep down there where our words can’t reach. And I just wish it would stop.

I am sometimes very hard for my partner to deal with when I’m suffering a paranoid episode and not in a fit state to be rational (as I was yesterday). My partner is saner than I am (though he has episodes of feeling depressed and listless), but suffers from physical fatigue, which means that I tend to do most of the cooking, washing-up and cleaning, plus breaking off from other activities to sit with him and try to cheer him up with a hug and a board game when he feels despondent. I think I have much the easier task than he does (though admittedly he isn’t as physically debilitated as you describe yourself as being). But both of us love each other, are very grateful to be together, and would be he I’ve had depression for many years and mostly do well. The problem is my partner. I am in a gay relationship and my husband, while most of the time is great, turns into a monster when he gets angry. He can’t seem to stop himself long enough to calm down. It turns into days of him making me feel bad, threatens to leave, blames it all on me. Once he’s through, he cry’s and tells me how much he loves me and doesn’t want to leave. I know this is not healthy for him or me. But, we do love each other. I can’t imagine not being with him, but at this point can’t imagine how we can continue to do this. We have been you for 28 years. For decades I didn’t even know he had been abused sexually. The physical, verbal and emotional abuse I knew about; we both received daily doses of all that. The sexual abuse floored me. It shouldn’t have, yet there it was from the mouth of one of my own abusers. It is 2023 and I am 58 years old. In 1987 at 22 years of age I became injured and have lived in unremitting physical pain every single day since then – for the last 36 years.

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Suicidality – that is, suicidal thoughts or behavior – exists on a spectrum. At one end are people who wish they weren’t alive anymore but also don’t think of suicide. At the other end of the spectrum are people with extremely high intent to end their life now, or maybe they’ve even just made a suicide attempt. Ketamine, psilocybin, ECT, and unexpected meds: doxycycline, NAC (yeah, mucomist), namenda, wellbutrin+Dextromethorphan. When I look at pictures of myself from before 2020 it looks like a completely different person. I was fit and was the kind of person that would go on 70 mile bike rides on nice days. I didn’t own a car and walked pretty much everywhere and I was always in motion. I loved my job and I was rising through the ranks. I turned 30 in 2019 and after having lots of fits and starts in my twenties I was really looking forward to this period of my life, with my relationship, travel, interesting work, and so on. I really can’t go on. My 40th wedding anniversary is coming up on 1/29 & honestly I can’t seem to feel anything. I’ve got mental issues ( molestation from age 9 to 12 & stranger assault & rape, I was 15 & a virgin). You have many talents, and perhaps in time you’ll find a way to use some of them even if your health doesn’t allow you to commit to a regular schedule of work. But don’t feel guilty about the times when you can’t. Be kind to yourself.

There’s a part of you that wants to live. It is the stronger part of you. There is SOMETHING MORE for you but you don’t yet know what it is. But it is real.. It is waiting for you to find it. Technically speaking, the term “passive suicidal thoughts” is an oxymoron. The very meaning of suicide is the intentional act of killing oneself. How can someone be suicidal if they don’t want to die by suicide? All of my family had moved away, and now the ones that stayed in touch with me are dead. I feel like everybody leaves me so there must be something wrong with me.

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I have tried every avenue to try to alleviate this pain. Nothing has worked and I’m now at the end. I have no more ideas to try. No new doctors to see. No miracle drugs are on the horizon. Your despair is so palpable in your words. It pains me to read how much pain you’re in, and I know whatever discomfort I feel is a microcosm of your own. I’m so sorry you’ve suffered so much. One of the things I’ll never understand is why some people experience so much suffering. It’s not fair. I know, that’s a child-like statement, but I feel like a child in my dismay. Sometimes I stop talking midsentence – I just don’t have the energy to care about everyday human things. There’s no point.

So I decided to push almost everyone out of my life. Because if you love them eventually they’ll hurt you or abandon you. Sometimes the loneliness is worth the pain it brings. I don’t feel like I have anything to live for. All the pain I have every day doesn’t seem worth waking up in the morning. It sounds as though you’re going through a very hard time, and maybe you need to sleep. But maybe there will come a time when you’re rested enough to think, ‘So, what do I do now?’ But that is not the only reason I hate her. She has the perfect life. Married almost 50 years to a great guy, great kids, great grandkids. She has no empty in her gas tank when it comes to giving to them and other family members. She does all kinds of good work in the community. She runs and even after knee replacements on both knees, ran a 1/2 marathon a few weeks with her daughter running with her up the last hill and her 7-year-old granddaughter meeting her close to the finish line to “run her in”. She’s thin, she eats healthy probably 99% of the time. She bakes a couple of times a week. She is very direct in her communication, and I could go on and on.I couldn’t. It was his time to go. And still my time to stay. So much time, and now to stay here without him. When I was a teenager, my father used to say jokingly that as he had one daughter (me) and two sons, one of the boys was spare, but he hadn’t decided which one. He was only joking, but at the time, I took it much too seriously and used to think, ‘No! Neither of my brothers is expendable, but parents shouldn’t have more children, therefore the one who ought to die must be me, and maybe if I wasn’t around, my parents might appreciate my brothers more instead of comparing them to me.’ But of course, if I had died, in practice it would have made the situation harder for my brothers, because instead of being compared with their real, academically fairly successful but socially and emotionally immature older sister, they might well have been constantly compared with an imaginary perfect daughter (Your sister would never have used every cup in the house without washing up – your sister would have stayed in every night to study for her A-levels – etc).