" For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future"
Let me take you on a journey...
There's nothing logical, rational or easily explainable about depression and suicide. It's not just a low-vibe feeling. It's that low-vibe feeling multiplied by one hundred. It's a terrifying, lonely feeling you can't escape. Like being relentlessly bullied ... by yourself.
If you've been lucky enough to sleep, then opening your eyes is akin to rolling the dice. Some days it's great. Refreshed, enthusiastic, normal. Other days you wake up in the morning to a familiar melancholic or angry feeling. Before your feet hit the floor you're calling on your competitive spirit. You know today is going to be all about the fight. Rocky's 'taking the hits and keep moving forward' speech. It sounds melodramatic but this philosophy how you actually get through.
Funnily enough the four lines from that clip that have the most meaning in the depressed state of mind are:
"You nervous, about the fight?"
"Scared to death."
"You don't look scared."
"Well, you ain't supposed to."
That's how you're conditioned to protect yourself from everyone around you knowing... or maybe that should be to 'protect' everyone else from dealing with you. Because for all of the talk, for all of the the 'copy-and-paste' captions on social media, and for all of the push ups promoting depression and suicide awareness. People still aren't talking about it.
The walk to the bathroom brings you face to face with yourself in the mirror. "Fuck, you're ugly." Taunts the voice in your head. It then moves its way through a tirade of insults that you know aren't true. But they sound just believable enough to be possible.
"You nervous, about the fight?"
"Scared to death."
"You don't look scared."
"Well, you ain't supposed to."
That's how you're conditioned to protect yourself from everyone around you knowing... or maybe that should be to 'protect' everyone else from dealing with you. Because for all of the talk, for all of the the 'copy-and-paste' captions on social media, and for all of the push ups promoting depression and suicide awareness. People still aren't talking about it.
The walk to the bathroom brings you face to face with yourself in the mirror. "Fuck, you're ugly." Taunts the voice in your head. It then moves its way through a tirade of insults that you know aren't true. But they sound just believable enough to be possible.
You talk with your children and the pain intensifies. You're reminded about how they'd be much better off if you were a better parent. You crack jokes with them, give them advice about whatever it is they're going through, and try to hold back the tears when they hug you and head off to school. Those hugs are bittersweet. You swim in their love, but don't feel worthy of it... and you quietly pray, hoping, begging that they never have to face this. That God gave this to you so he wouldn't give it to them.
A final "Have a good day!" from your partner brings relief. No questions from them indicates that you've hidden it from them so well, that they haven't noticed how you feel. Now you don't have to worry about them worrying about you, and hearing the 'L-word' from them makes you briefly grateful that someone does... even though you don't know why.
You hit the car and listen to music. Even sing along. Anything to not be alone with your thoughts. Also in the hope that it'll change your mood. Some people pray in the car (hopefully with their eyes open). You don't pray for it to be taken from you anymore. You've asked that many times and it hasn't worked. Instead, you ask for the strength to be able to deal with it again today.
Christians will tell you that God doesn't make mistakes. If that's the case, God gave this to me, and he's not taking it away in a hurry, so I'd better learn to get on living with it.
So, you bring faith into the equation and tell yourself that you know that you must have this for a reason. It has to be so, at some stage you'll be in a position to help someone else. Otherwise, what's the reason for having to endure this sadistic groundhog day?
For some reason the idea that it may one day help someone makes the torment easier to deal with. Now, instead of being terrified, you're just numb.
You arrive at work/school/sport/wherever and it's time for the actor to emerge. Take that heart off your sleeve and smile and wave. Madagascar's penguins in full effect. There's a method to the madness. By appearing happy. You might be able to convince yourself that you are.
In some bizarre twist, the pressure of your job provides relief. Like an addict receiving their fix, you throw yourself into the tasks in front of you so that you're too busy to think about you. You work through lunch, and keep yourself occupied until it's time to go home. This is also bittersweet, as the whole time you're trying to avoid it, it follows you. "You have no idea what you're doing." "Everyone thinks you're shit." "They're only being nice. You're a fraud." The only difference is that by having others needs to meet, the volume is turned down a bit.
The drive home through traffic takes forever. It gives the bully time alone with you again. He leads you on a drive into the suicide cul-de-sac and throws thoughts of ending it all across your mind. "Everyone will be better off without you."
You're too smart to fall for that. But the thought does cross your mind. Slowly.
Home brings parental and partner responsibilities. Then later, when the house is quiet and everyone is asleep, you can let go. You're spent. The emotional and mental energy required to fight this, keep up appearances and be productive leave you empty. Frustration escapes in the form of tears and quiet cursing.
Sometimes you talk with your partner, or friends, or family about it. They listen, give you their ear, their advice, their love, and you're grateful you have the temporary release.
But you don't tell them every time. And you don't tell them everything. You don't tell them the things that race through your mind in the darkest moments. You can't. You have some appreciation of the context. They don't. It's not fair to burden them with it.
What you've done is draw a map of how to get through the day while feeling like this. You learn your warning signals and you learn to adapt so that you can function when the roadblocks appear. Remembering your desperate deal with God, you know that map will be able to be used to maybe help someone else. At last a comforting thought as your head hits the pillow.
Sometimes these days are one hit wonders. Sometimes the 'visit' last days, weeks or months. It sucks and it's a fight everyday to CHOOSE to be positive. The 'good days' are the ones when the suicidal impulse doesn't cross your mind.
You're grateful for the bad days too, when out of the blue someone you know plucks up the courage to come to see you, or calls, or texts saying, "Hey, can we talk? I've been feeling..."
... and while listening, you reach back for the map.
Praise God.
A final "Have a good day!" from your partner brings relief. No questions from them indicates that you've hidden it from them so well, that they haven't noticed how you feel. Now you don't have to worry about them worrying about you, and hearing the 'L-word' from them makes you briefly grateful that someone does... even though you don't know why.
You hit the car and listen to music. Even sing along. Anything to not be alone with your thoughts. Also in the hope that it'll change your mood. Some people pray in the car (hopefully with their eyes open). You don't pray for it to be taken from you anymore. You've asked that many times and it hasn't worked. Instead, you ask for the strength to be able to deal with it again today.
Christians will tell you that God doesn't make mistakes. If that's the case, God gave this to me, and he's not taking it away in a hurry, so I'd better learn to get on living with it.
So, you bring faith into the equation and tell yourself that you know that you must have this for a reason. It has to be so, at some stage you'll be in a position to help someone else. Otherwise, what's the reason for having to endure this sadistic groundhog day?
For some reason the idea that it may one day help someone makes the torment easier to deal with. Now, instead of being terrified, you're just numb.
You arrive at work/school/sport/wherever and it's time for the actor to emerge. Take that heart off your sleeve and smile and wave. Madagascar's penguins in full effect. There's a method to the madness. By appearing happy. You might be able to convince yourself that you are.
In some bizarre twist, the pressure of your job provides relief. Like an addict receiving their fix, you throw yourself into the tasks in front of you so that you're too busy to think about you. You work through lunch, and keep yourself occupied until it's time to go home. This is also bittersweet, as the whole time you're trying to avoid it, it follows you. "You have no idea what you're doing." "Everyone thinks you're shit." "They're only being nice. You're a fraud." The only difference is that by having others needs to meet, the volume is turned down a bit.
The drive home through traffic takes forever. It gives the bully time alone with you again. He leads you on a drive into the suicide cul-de-sac and throws thoughts of ending it all across your mind. "Everyone will be better off without you."
You're too smart to fall for that. But the thought does cross your mind. Slowly.
Home brings parental and partner responsibilities. Then later, when the house is quiet and everyone is asleep, you can let go. You're spent. The emotional and mental energy required to fight this, keep up appearances and be productive leave you empty. Frustration escapes in the form of tears and quiet cursing.
Sometimes you talk with your partner, or friends, or family about it. They listen, give you their ear, their advice, their love, and you're grateful you have the temporary release.
But you don't tell them every time. And you don't tell them everything. You don't tell them the things that race through your mind in the darkest moments. You can't. You have some appreciation of the context. They don't. It's not fair to burden them with it.
What you've done is draw a map of how to get through the day while feeling like this. You learn your warning signals and you learn to adapt so that you can function when the roadblocks appear. Remembering your desperate deal with God, you know that map will be able to be used to maybe help someone else. At last a comforting thought as your head hits the pillow.
Sometimes these days are one hit wonders. Sometimes the 'visit' last days, weeks or months. It sucks and it's a fight everyday to CHOOSE to be positive. The 'good days' are the ones when the suicidal impulse doesn't cross your mind.
You're grateful for the bad days too, when out of the blue someone you know plucks up the courage to come to see you, or calls, or texts saying, "Hey, can we talk? I've been feeling..."
... and while listening, you reach back for the map.
Praise God.
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