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
To refer to the new year simply as “eleven” and refuse to clarify.
To use emoticons in speech: “I’m sorry your mom died. Colon, opening parenthesis.” Or, “wanna make a baby, baby? Semicolon, closing parenthesis”.
To not use air-quotes — except when mocking others.
To redefine my persona from Raging Bitch to Refined Bitch. Pass the chardonnay, please.
To communicate entirely through sarcasm for the duration of the year.
[Note: This comment was originally posted on "Pondering: Apocalypse Soon-ish" which you can read by clicking here]
Dear Megsie,
When one of my closest friends in my entire life passed away about a year ago, my sister in law said, “You just need to grow up.” So there you have it as a gift, Number 6. Maybe it fits better on the Grief list.
What should you say to a grieving person? I’m sorry. Then, shut up. Say nothing. They will love you for it.
What should you say to a depressed person?
-Clueless Wonder
Dear Clueless,
Your answer to your first question is also my answer to your second question. Emotions such as grief and depression are weird in that they often isolate us just when our craving for emotional validation is at its peak. “I’m sorry”. Then shut up. Validate. Then listen. Then go play a game and don’t feel guilty for feeling happy again.
When my grandmother passed away a few years ago, I stayed up after midnight with my mother giggling over what to write in the obituary. At one point my oh-so-proper mother suggested that “a word that rhymes with witch” might be a suitable description of my late grandmother. My mom loved her mother, but even in death she wasn’t blind to her flaws. Life is hilarious, especially when it sucks. Here are my contributions to your “what not to say to a grieving person” list:
1. “You just need to grow up.”
Robot. Two. Four. One. Beep. Boop. Agrees. With. Sister-in-law. Human. Emotion. Is. Foolish. You. Must. Be. Dead. Inside. Like. Me.
2. “Well, you’ll find out that Jesus is real when YOU die and go to Hell”
Actual quote from my father to my grandmother’s surviving partner, Bill, when we went to visit him in the care home. My father had remarked that my grandmother, a life-long agnostic who had a death-bed conversion, was now with Jesus. Bill was visibly upset by this and said, “No, no, she didn’t believe in God! We are Agnostics!” At which point my ever-gracious father issued the above threat. All in love, of course. Later that evening, the Anglican minister presiding over my Catholic-born-turned-Agnostic-turned-eleventh-hour-evangelical grandmother’s memorial service urged the audience to “repent and turn to Jesus.” For those who don’t get it, overt evangelism at a funeral is insulting. Prayers, scriptures or songs to remember and honour the deceased’s faith is important, but telling non-believing friends and relatives that they are going to Hell if they don’t repent, or even HINTING it, is incredibly crass.
3. “When did you get your nose pierced?”
My cousin tapped me on the shoulder and asked me this while we were waiting for the memorial service for my grandmother to begin. I was sobbing audibly – not just because of my grandmother’s passing but also because my father was being a complete dick to my poor grieving mother. I turned around to look at my cousin, wiping tears from my eyes and said, “um… a few years ago?” Oblivious to having trespassed any social standards, she continued to chat about how she wanted to get hers pierced, how her mom got hers pierced and that she let her thirteen year old daughter get her nose pierced. All the while I wondered if the memorial home offered cremations on a two-for-one deal, and if I would have to shoot myself first, or if that was included.
4. “He found peace in the Lord and is looking down on all of us smiling with the angels…aren’t you glad about that?”
This one was said to my friend Karissa at her grandfather’s funeral. Here is her commentary: “Bitch, please. My grandpa was a cranky old bastard who would’ve kicked your ass.” Amen. I understand wanting to highlight only the good in someone’s life, but don’t memorialise them as a Precious Moments figurine. It’s so disingenuous.
5. “Don’t worry, you’ll feel better soon.”
I’m mourning the loss of a loved one, I don’t have the flu. I’m aware that my grief, which at present seems inconsolable, will, eventually, be quelled. But part of the grieving process involves (believe it or not) grieving. If tears make you uncomfortable please feel free to un-invite yourself from all memorial services, chick flicks and onion-chopping contests. The rest of us will be over here being human.
Megsie, mournfully
P.S. I included the rest of the quotes Karissa sent me on the topic in the comments below. Please feel free to add your own!
Dear Megsie is a monthly-ish feature written by Megan Barry. Megan reserves the right to edit comments for clarity as she sees fit, and/or laugh at your gross typographical errors. Email your questions to dear_megsie@megsie.com