But I Need You to Choose to Live

I am worried about you, all the time.

I am distracted at work and at home, because I am scared about what is happening to you, and by extension, what is happening to the people around you (specifically me, Dad, and Donna).

I feel alone and overwhelmed about this, and I know you say it is not my job to worry about you, but I care about you and want you to be happy and I want you to continue living.

I am sad when I see you not taking care of yourself, or hurting yourself.

I want to have children and I want them to have four grandparents.

I think about the profound impact my grandmothers had on me it makes me sad and hurt to think that you don’t want to be around to make that impact on my children.

I want you to enjoy the incredible freedom that you and Dad have. You could see the entire world, you can do anything you want, and I want you to take advantage of that.

I see you alienating yourself from friends and family, and I am terrified by how much it reminds me of what Nan did to herself after she retired.

I watch you insisting on being alone and needing space to grieve, but I don’t see you dealing with your grief.

I don’t know how to help you, because you don’t seem to want to help yourself.

I think about you not wanting to help yourself, and it makes me feel like you don’t love me as much as you say you do.

I hurt when I see you doing this to yourself — every second that you are alone and not taking care of yourself makes me feel sick to my stomach and overwhelmed.

I am scared to think about what is happening to you, and how quickly it is happening.

I feel like you are choosing drinking and watching TV over me.

I feel like you don’t care about what happens to you.

I feel like you don’t care about what happens to me.

I want you to live. I need you to live. Will you please choose to live?

I love you very much and want you to always love me and love yourself.

I am here to help. I am here to support. But I need you to choose to live.

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