Should I Remain

The thought that every one of mine ends with

WARNING: THIS STORY INCLUDES REFERENCES TO SUICIDE

These days, whenever I think, talk, or write about anything, in the back of my mind and at the end of every sentence are the words “should I remain.”

The Remain that I refer to is remaining around, as in among the living if you cannot tell by the main photo.

It’s a bitter pill to swallow when everything you had hoped and dreamed of, i.e., having a happy family, falls apart at the seams despite your best intentions and efforts.

I’m a fairly smart guy. I scored damn near the top in several categories earlier this year when I was subjected to a seven-hour critical skills assessment and cognitive ability test by two so-called Brainiac psychiatrists while pursuing what had long been my “dream job.”

I only tout my adaptability and problem-solving prowess as a prelude to writing that I already know what most readers would think or write. It does not mean that I like myself. TBH, I pretty much fucking hate myself.

But if I am so adaptable and have for so long revered my perseverant forefathers and preached as much, why don’t I just suck it up and get over it and try to live out the best life that I can?

My answer to that is simply that until you have been sucker-punched in the gut as hard as I have and had your lifelong hopes and dreams ripped away from you, it’s hard to fathom a future in which I wish to remain.

Sure, I might be around for another year. Another five, maybe even another ten (doubtful). But sooner or later I will do the inevitable to put myself out of my misery, and I am okay with that. Probably after all the bills of my life have been paid in full.

So the title phrase of “Should I Remain.”

I have always been a talker, and that has not changed a lot although I am trying to do better in the listening department. Trying hard!

I have always been a planner for the future, whatever it may be. I am mere years away from a decent pension and have saved up give or take about a third mil. Not as much as I should have, but enough to scrape by some semblance of semi-retirement.

Lately, I have been aspiring to be a dog walker and sitter. And do not worry, I would not do anything drastic when another person entrusted their pet to me. I’d rather die than let something bad happen to an animal in my care.

My pension would be in the neighborhood of $7,200 to $7,500 per month if I continue working, more like surviving, for four more years in my current position until the age of about fifty-seven.

So when I speak now of the future, typically with my wife, I sheepishly add the phrase “Should I remain.”

I know that she hates it, but she knows what I mean. She is a part of this situation as well but handles it better than I do. I was raised in a very close-knit Jewish family filled with aunts, uncles, and cousins in addition to our immediate family.

Family means everything to me and, TBH, I come from a much closer and more loving family than my wife did.

Not to bash hers. Just “telling it like it is.” So it is far harder for me to accept the breakup of our immediate family. It eats away at my brain from the moment I wake up every day, typically around 4 to 5 AM including weekends.

So whatever you do, please do not diminish or minimize my problems. They consume my thoughts almost constantly, and I can only think of one way to end my mental anguish for good. I came close to ending it twice, which landed me in therapy like I went to tonight. Going does not do much for me, but it is far better than being committed by your loved ones.

Also, I am not referring to two failed attempts. I was stopped before. There will be no attempts for me — just one horrible but hopefully quick and relatively painless act.

Anyhoo, on that lovely note, whether I am contemplating my physical health, investing, future plans, where to live, family issues, or whatever, I now consider my expiration date no matter the topic. If I do not utter the words, I am thinking them.

Do I really care about investing more into my IRA like I have been doing for so many years? Do I really think about moving out of the cold, corrupt, violent, highly taxed state that I have lived in for the entirety of my life? Do I need to continue saving up for travel in our sixties? Would I still remain alive in my sixties even if I did want to? My father passed away when he was sixty-five.

Will I be able to come to grips with my sad reality and simply become another hollowed-out living being in the shape of a human trudging out my days and praying for the end to come soon?

I have more questions than answers, but the truth remains that when it comes to contemplating my bleak future, I am pretty sure that I would rather not remain.

But I will try harder not to end every thought of the future when speaking with my wife with those three words.