Four years ago yesterday I attempted to take my own life. I’m not going to re-tell the experience, because I’ve already told that story here. The memory hurts me more deeply than any pain I have ever experienced, perhaps because in that frantic moment of dumping pills down my throat I felt the culmination of every single hurt I have ever known. I wasn’t going to write about this at all because I feel like a broken record. I feel like I should magically have put my life back together by now. I feel like I shouldn’t struggle. I feel like my emotions aren’t valid. I feel like the people in my life deserve to see only the good in me, not the pain. I’m writing about this because, as R.E.M. so candidly reminds us, “everybody hurts sometimes”. I read this eloquent and honest recounting of Rob Delaney’s struggle with depression and it reminded me that I am not alone. I want to echo Mr. Delaney’s sentiments to anyone reading this who also struggles with serious depression: Reach out to someone. Get help.
After months of trying so very hard to Keep Shit My Together, I finally broke down last week and told the Viking just how much I’m struggling. I managed to choke out, through convulsive sobs, “I want to die. Every. Single. Day.” It is hard for me to even write those words without crying. It hurts me to think that it hurts other people, but one of the most important things a loved one of someone dealing with depression needs to understand is that it is Not Your Fault that your partner, or sibling, or friend feels this way. And it’s not his or her fault either. Depression is deadly because it is isolating. Depression tells me that no one wants to hear about my struggles. That no one cares about my pain. Depression tells me that I’m not worth fighting for. But I don’t buy it. I’m better than this, and so are you. It sounds so stupid and cliché, but it’s fucking true. When I finally told someone how I was feeling, it didn’t magically make my feelings go away, but it gave me a partner. Someone who helped me find the strength to go see a doctor after months of fighting on my own.
As I said, I wasn’t going to write about this because I didn’t want to acknowledge that four years later, I’m still in the same place, but I’m NOT in the same place. Four years ago, I would not have gone to a doctor of my own volition. Four years ago, I would not have told someone how I honestly feel. Four years ago, I did not have the wisdom to separate the manifestation of a disease from reality. I don’t have anything profound to say, except that I am holding on, and to anyone else struggling, please take heart, don’t give up, and get help.
The struggle itself towards the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart.
~Albert Camus
