I'm at the end of a decade long odyssey that began around my parents' divorce in 2004. My Mum's deteriorating mental health made this a tragic trip into the abyss. In retrospect, suicide was the inevitable conclusion to this horrible experience.
|Sisyphus and his rock|
My anxiety about doing this is peaking. I'm wondering if that isn't because I've come to see this misery as a part of myself, but is it?
My greatest fear is that the madness that claimed Mum is in me somewhere. If this grief is an avenue to that, I need to realize that it's not a part of me, and I can let it go.