Endure to the End?

I've noticed that a lot of my blog titles seem to end in question marks lately. I guess that is because I'm questioning everything about this whole "healing" process. Right now I just want to know "When will it end......?!! The pain in my soul is so intense and I can't get away from it. I can't run, I can't hide, I can't escape. It just goes on and on until I want to die and still it persists and I don't die and I can't breathe; and still I don't die. I'm so tired and I can't sleep for the pain. It comes at me from every direction. Everything causes me pain. Looking, feeling, hoping, falling, trying. And nothing eases the pain. I want to take a handful of sleeping pills so that I can sink into quiet oblivion, just for a while, so that I can have a break from the pain, but I can't do that because I have children who deserve more that what they got from their mother. Asking for help causes me to feel guilty because it requires so much, and maybe I have the right to be helped, but that right runs right over the rights of others and I can't handle that on top of all the pain I already feel. It's too much, too much. Please stop, make it stop.. O God where art thou? Where is thy peace, thy comforter? Why hast thou abandoned me? If there were an end I think I could endure, but this is endless. My hope has sputtered and finally died. There is no light, but I can only go on. One doesn't die from this pain, not like it were cancer or some other terminal illness. I can only exist in this shell, full of pain and lost hope. When is enough, when is the required pain for growth reached. I don't feel growth--I can't look back and say how far I've come. I just see a repeated loop through which I have fallen again and again and again, caught in the whirlpool and unable to escape. I am a survivor, but only as a victim. I only survive. I don't go beyond that and what kind of life is that? I am alone, unable to reach out to others of my kind. I don't know where they are to be found. I don't have the financial resources to seek a therapist. Even if I did, I can't stand the thought of revealing the secret parts of myself to someone paid to listen to me. My heart cries out for help, but I don't know how to accept it if it were available, I wouldn't know how to recognize it if it were either. I am so wounded by my pain, and isolated by the shame of it. How do I endure, but what choice is there?