I can't say honestly that I have. I have considered running out on life. Abandoning my responsibilities and hitting the road, but we know now that those thoughts come hand in hand with an urgent need to adjust the dosage of my SSRI.
I'll never forget one time when I was in high school, my dad and I were fighting, as we were so quick to do, and I said, "I wish I was dead." He replied with, "I'll get you a bottle of pills."
Makes him sound like a monster, and quite frankly, some days he was. He fought with me like a peer instead of a parent, and as quick as he was to anger - we fought a lot.
He's not a monster though. What he said wasn't appropriate, and it didn't result in the expected jolt to reality that he probably intended. It just made me feel like he wished I was dead too.
It was a terrible feeling.
It didn't last though, and Daddy didn't stay that way. The sad part is that shortly after he mellowed and changed was when he started getting sick. It's truly not fair.
What about you? I'm curious. What would it take to make you give up? Is there anything?
I don't think there is for me. Especially not now.
This is part of the 30 Days of Truth series. You can find the entire list here.