I have suffered from depression a long time and like anyone else that suffers, we have a lot of suicidal ideation and wistful thoughts about not being here. For many of us, we have some 'thing' that keeps us going...

For a long time my 'thing' was one of the last things my father said to me, some 30 years ago before he died. He made me promise I would never take my own life because he felt it was the, "coward's way out," which I kind of disagreed with (I thought it took guts to get there) but whatever. I tried to honour this like it was his dying wish. Over the years I've thought a lot about this and I decided that once I finally reached his age at death I'd no longer be bound by that restriction, as in some kind of weird way I had surpassed him. Regardless, that stopped being my 'thing' some 5 years ago when my son was born.

My son is amazing, beautiful and happy. He has special needs which I can't really get into the detail about, but suffice it to say that his innocence makes him extremely vulnerable to the cruelty of this world. My 'thing' became him. Protecting and nurturing him and helping him to exist in an environment stacked against him. It's amazing the bereavement a parent of a child with special needs goes through. There is always the comparison with other children and their seemingly precocious development, the assumptions of other parents with their knowing (triggeringly ignorant) expertise and assumptions, and plenty more to serve as a constant reminder that the future you thought you might have with your child is never going to be. It's pretty crushing, but you only have to spend time with them to understand how much they need you.

I'm also in a loveless relationship. It carries on out of the necessity of financial security and mutual care. It's unhealthy and cold, but again - all for the sake of my son's needs.
Finally, my friends can't really spend time with me because they have kids of their own and nobody really understands the levels of my son's (and mine honestly lol) needs. It is weird, prior to him coming along, I have memories of close friends making jokes (stress: jokes and nothing intentionally malicious - usually saying controversial things to get a shocked reaction pr the like, akin to the humoir of Family Guy, South Park etc.) about 'retards' and the like, and now when I cast my mind back to such incidences it makes me so sour and I don't feel connected to any of these people any more. This pushes me to dislike people I previously held in higher esteem.

Anyway.

So recently I've come to realise that I am not a force for good in my son's life. My morose and uncaring attitude in the household is actually doing more harm to him that good. Though he is nonverbal, I am so withdrawn that I don't try to communicate with him enough or take him out enough due to the difficulties it presents. There is much more besides, but... I have lost my 'thing' and I think for the first time in as long as I can remember, I feel curiously happy. Liberated.

There are no restrictions on me any more. My son is better off without me. I wouldn't be missed if I moved to the other side of the planet. Finally, I feel like I can breathe.

I haven't made any specific plans yet, but I've made a few secret goodbyes and am getting my affairs in order. Life is good, and my future finally feels optimistic.