Yesterday I found a note by accident that I’d typed on my cellphone about a month ago. It was the day I came close to ending my life. It wasn’t a note written in desperation, nor was it a final goodbye letter. At the time it felt like I was just trying to gather my thoughts and make sense of it all, what I was thinking and rather go through the text afterwards and decipher it. I never got to that point as my low took hold of me and prompted me to feel utter emptiness.
The feeling of not wanting to live can be difficult to comprehend if you haven’t had these destructive thoughts at all. Many people can feel anxiety and despair, but to feel calm and wanting to die is a complex and eerie state to describe.
I can only describe how this is for me. Depression can come in many forms and will affect sufferers differently depending on the causation and physical state (to name a few examples). I am in no way qualified to make accurate statements regarding the medical aspect, nor do I have the credentials to give factual interpretations of depression. This is all me and all personal.
When the most severe lows* have hit me I can feel every fiber in me want to give in and leave this place. I don’t feel sad, nor angry or despaired. I feel as though I’ve had my time here on earth and I’ve seen both beauty and tragedy. I’ve tried my best to give what I can to others in form of love and empathy. I don’t feel regret anymore for the things I’ve done wrong. And that is a big factor as I tend to live with regret constantly every day for things I should’ve done, ought to have known, and could’ve said differently. All this floats away and death seems almost inviting. I’ve done my part and it’s time to say goodbye. But the rational and idealistic part of me tries, to its best ability, to fight this. To convince myself I need to stay. It’s a constant struggle back and forth where I turn every stone and hurl every argument against myself in order to logically trick me into realizing this is the wrong path. Because that’s what it feels like to want to die: logical. It’s not a cry for help nor is it feeling sorry for myself. I feel calm and collected, and it scares me.
The love my friends show me matters, but in the state of low - no matter how irrational I know it is - I feel they will be ok in given time after I die. There is also a factor of guilt. It is a common struggle amongst many people with depression, that friends and family take it as almost an insult that someone wants to die and inflict that pain upon them. Or view suicide as something egotistical because you don’t care what grief it will cause to those left behind. The irony is that most people with depression think about this all the time, and it’s the reason why so many disguise their depression in fear of that particular judgment. Which renders the pressure of being ‘normal’ far greater. As a result of my incessant pressure of perfecting my care and empathy I trivialize my existence and importance. And maybe herein lies one of my challenges: understanding that being bolder and using my abilities actively for good is more kind and empathetic than to quietly vanish. It goes against everything in me to confidently thinking I possess knowledge that can better peoples lives. It feels intrusive and conceited, yet I have no problem when other people do acts of good; pushing forth a positive agenda that may inspire people to live more fully and immerse.
Wanting to die is something I think I must live with. I often hear from recovering alcoholics that they always feel the need to drink and know they won’t be able to drink responsibly so instead avoid it entirely. I’m not saying it is the same condition or that alcoholism is always like this, but like the need in me to let go...I need to be able accept that it might be there forever, but that I can live quite happily despite of it. And hopefully I’ll be able to use whatever lies within me to better the life of someone else.
Depression isn’t just being sad. It shouldn’t be simplified to a common emotional state we all feel at some point in our lives. It then risks being misunderstood as a whole and brushed off as something everyone can weigh in on how to handle, rendering the sufferer confused and feeling misunderstood. Some of history’s greatest thinkers suffered from depression, wealthy people, famous people...there isn’t a fixed recipe on how to get over it, nor is it a given who will fall into it. If we are able to differentiate sadness and depression then we are already headed in the right direction.
This is only my fifth post, but I already can feel it helps building my confidence; I’m doing something and I have done it routinely. It’s only five, but it’s a start and I sorely need it.
*Low is what I call my depression when I lose my rational side and go into this state of wanting to die.
Comments
Post a Comment