I Don't Want to Live This Life Anymore

 

It's been awhile since I have written anything.  I usually blog when I am really suffering from depression.  To be honest, I've been suffering for a while now but just haven't had the energy to type it all out.

Christmas was hard.  I just didn't want to do it.  I didn't want to celebrate.  I didn't want to decorate.  I just didn't want to.  It was made worse by it also being my 56th anniversary of being here.

I can't say that I have had suicidal thoughts but I did have a scary moment when I whispered to myself, "I don't want to live this life anymore". 

Since I have had moments in the past where I did put a blade to my wrist or swallowed a bunch of pills, I was a bit scared of myself.

Intrusive thoughts can be horrible when you don't have a safety net.  No therapist to call, no action plan in place, no will to call a hotline.

I did take a moment to gather myself and think of the triggers.

No joy these days.

I have taken a creative break from my artwork.  This probably wasn't the best idea but if you have to force creativity, then it truly is not beneficial.  I also didn't want to do the art/craft shows this year.  To force myself to be something I wasn't feeling this year to people I do not know is hard, very hard.

I also live with my elderly father who can be challenging at times.  He is a very critical man.  Always has something negative to say.  I always feel unlovable because I don't meet his expectations of me.  I feel that I am not the daughter he wants.  I feel less than anything.  It is hard, very hard to not lose my shit altogether. 

My job has changed into something I am not happy doing.  We have new owners and again, I feel unneeded.  I have been shut out from what I liked doing and am now doing things I hate.  I don't want to go to work in the morning.  I am trying to ride out the storm but honestly, I hate it.

I hate interviewing more so there's that conundrum.

Money was super tight for awhile.  The one positive thing about the new ownership is that I no longer have to pay for my health insurance and that means more money in my pocket.

The opposite of this positive is that my car needs work which means money, which means, ugh.

I think when I say that I don't want to live this life anymore, I mean I don't want to live like this anymore.  There has to be a happier place for me.  There has to be something better out there. 

Or

There has to be a way to change my outlook on things.  I think I need to find things to do that I enjoy again.  I need to create more things.  I need to expand myself.  Travel maybe.... I have a bucket list.

I do have things to look forward to so I don't plan on leaving this life just yet.  I do plan on making some changes.  What those changes are will just need to be decided on.

Losing Kate

 

Katherine Marlene was born at 16:16 pm on June 9, 2002.  She was a petite 7 pounds, 5 ounces and had a full head of hair.  She had big, beautiful eyes and long fingers.  She had a tiny little birthmark on her earlobe.  We knew she was a girl long before she made her appearance.  

As she grew, her personality really started to shine.  She was smart and funny.  She was also quite trying on the patience at times.

Her teen years started with her always wanting to succeed in school, bringing home straight "A"s without me even having to push.  She was always harder on herself.

Teenage Kate had her hard moments.  We struggled with her eating disorder and low self esteem.  We sought help on numerous occasions.  She attempted suicide once and was hospitalized.  Once we found the right treatment, she started to soar.

At the beginning of this September it all came to a halt.

Her move in day at the start of her sophomore year of college turned into a nightmare.  

She was raped by another student in his dorm room.  

She internalized the trauma for about ten days before she told me.  Ashamed and embarrassed, she didn't want to be judged.  As a rape victim, one tends to blame themselves and is often afraid to speak out.  A victim feels afraid of retaliation and also fear that they won't be believed.  A victim is in shock and is unable to fully process what has happened to them.

I finally talked her into reporting it and she went to the hospital to get examined.  During the exam, she vocalized wanting to die and they had to commit her to behavioral health for 72 hours.

After her release, she was exhibiting signs of delusions and hallucinations.  Her dad was concerned and brought her back to the hospital.  She has been diagnosed with psychosis.  She has been creating an alternate reality to hide from the trauma of the attack.

As a parent, I cannot explain how horrible it feels to have lost your child on top of knowing what she has been through to bring her to this point.  

She doesn't deserve this.... any of it.

I cannot visit her due to covid restrictions.  I cannot hold her and tell her that she will be alright.  I cannot take away any of her pain.  I couldn't protect her from the monster who did this to her.  I cannot wipe her tears.

When I talk to her, I don't know this Katie.  

I pray that I have not lost her.  I pray so hard.

I listen for any little hint that she's still in there somewhere.

I don't want to be losing Kate.

Dear Phil

I visited you today.  I brushed the leaves from your headstone.  Tears stung my eyes.  I has been so many years, my friend, but it seems like yesterday that I last heard you laugh.

I remember your smile and your kind eyes.  You tried to hide your hurt but I could see it.  I remember our talks.  I remember how you got me to laugh.  We were friends who shared a common battle.

You chose to end your battle with your demons and insecurities. I still struggle with mine.

I often wish that I as a better friend and wonder if I had only stopped living my life enough to hear your call for help.  If I only took that moment to be there for you.

It is one of my biggest regrets.

I stood at your grave to be with you for a moment, praying that you are at peace. 

Some day I will see you on the other side.

Help is available

Suicide Hotline

800-273-8255 

A Mother's Cry

 

This is probably one of the hardest things I've written about.  I've started it many times and put it aside because I was never sure if I could even put it into words.

I also didn't want anyone judging the situation.  It is a tough situation to even think about going through but then to actually live it....

Mind you, what I am about to write about happened a few years ago and we are all fine now.  I am writing about it because I am sure other moms have gone through it, are going through it or will go through it.  I just want you to know that you are not alone.

I thought it was odd that she asked me for an extension cord.  She said that she needed it for her curling iron.  I had a long day and didn't really question her.  After several minutes...hell, it could have been an hour but the time doesn't matter, she came out of the bathroom and admitted to the lie and said that the cord was to put into the tub with her.

As a parent, I didn't know what to do.  I knew she struggled and we had tried to get help but help was just almost impossible to find.  School counselors were focused on SATs and college meetings.  I was told that they were too busy to even refer us to someone who could help.  I had called behavioral health and got her in to see an older guy but he really couldn't relate to poor body image and teenage breakups.

I tried to help but she accused me of making it about me.  I only tried to relate to what she was going through but she didn't see me as ever being a teenager.

When she admitted the intent of the extension cord, I calmly said that I was glad that she told me and we talked for a bit.  She went to bed.

I was up all night thinking why the fuck couldn't I help my own child.  I felt like a failure.  I made the decision to seek the ultimate help.

I can't really remember if she went to school the next day but again, the timeline doesn't really matter.

I made the decision to take her to the emergency room and seek for some way to help her.

She had serious body image issues.  She binged and purged.  She was a shell of what she once was.  She worked out constantly.

She had bullies at school who were into cyberbullying her.  Her ass was too big, her arms were too hairy, and whatever else.  

She self harmed.  Her arms were cut with scissors or a knife.

She was angry and depressed.

and I couldn't help her.

My beautiful child was a mess.

She didn't fight me on going to the hospital.  Which surprised me but I think she was just ready to get help too.

In the emergency room they ran blood tests and checked vitals.  Finally a doctor came and talked with us, mainly her.  She explained everything that was going on with her and her thoughts.  I was startled to learn that it was worse that what I was seeing.  My heart broke even more.

I stepped out with the doctor and he asked what I was thinking.  I started to cry and said that I think she needs to be admitted to the pysch ward and if she doesn't agree, I will have her forcibly placed.

As a mother, this had to be one of the hardest decisions I had to make. 

I talked with her a bit about my decision and at first she was scared about how it would all work.  She then opened to the idea and agreed to go.

It was hard leaving her there but I also knew that she was safe.  That first night I slept so good knowing that she was safe.

The first few days were hard for her as she never liked sleeping away from home but as she got involved in the program, I began to see improvement.  She was there for about 5 days.  

We put a plan into place so that she could come home.  We learned to talk about things.  We worked with a counselor.  Her medication was adjusted.

I'm not saying that everything was perfect after that.  There have been some large bumps in the road but we have tools to deal with them.

Despite everything she was a straight A student.  She is bright, funny, and beautiful.

I am proud of my daughter.

How I Deal With It

I have written about my battle with depression many times.  I've written about the time I wanted to end my life.  

I write about it because I know there are others who feel the same and they feel alone.  I write to let them know they aren't alone.

I have been asked recently about how I deal with it.  I am asked if I am cured.  I am asked if I still have feelings of ending my life.

First, I don't believe that there will ever really be a cure for depression.  I've dealt with mine since I was about 14 or so.  There were factors that came into play that I don't really talk about.  It isn't because I'm embarrassed or I don't want to talk about them.  It's just that some of the factors have names and I don't feel angry or hatred towards them so I don't want anyone else judging them.  

Second, I deal with depression by recognizing my triggers and avoiding them.  Triggers could be memories of past trauma or even when I let my own head starts overthinking.  Sometimes I even see the "factors" of my past and I have to pretend that things didn't happen.

I also practice self care.  Practicing self care is a huge key in managing depression.  I have learned to immurse myself in creativity.  I use it as an outlet.  I create beautiful things and that makes me feel good.  I read.  I write.  I walk.  I take time outs for me.  I go to the lake and dip my toes.  

I've accepted myself for who I am and if others don't like me, that is their problem, not mine.  There are times when my own mind lies when I look in the mirror.  I hear that I am ugly, fat, stupid, unlovable and so on.  Those lies are just echoes from my former self.  

And.... they are just lies.

I also have learned to accept love into my heart.  I don't mean a romantic love but a pure love from family and friends.  I surround myself with good people and I love them back. 

I've learned to ask for help.  There are numbers that I can call and talk to someone immediately.   I reach out to friends and family. 

Do I still have feelings of ending it all?

I haven't in a very long time.  I've made many changes to my life to ensure that it doesn't happen.  Sometimes I wonder if I will have a moment of irrational thought and that would be all it takes.

It was hard work learning to step back from that ledge.  It continues to be hard work.

But good things come from hard work.

Suicide Hotline

800-273-8255

Semicolon

 

He saw my tattoo.

A butterfly with a subtle semicolon for a body.

The butterfly symbolizes a beautiful change.  

The semicolon is a symbol that means that an author could have ended a sentence and chose not to.  

The semicolon is now recognized as a symbol of affirmation and solidarity against suicide, depression and other mental health issues.  It inspires strength in the midst of suffering.

He saw my tattoo.  He noticed the semicolon fairly quickly.  I was surprised since many do not see that detail.  Especially a man...

He asked about it.  I am really open about how the tattoo came about.  I talk about how there was that one moment of irrational thought where I was really ready to end it.

The mental pain is hard to deal with and you just want it to stop.

He then shared his story.  We were in a room with so many people but it was like we were the only two people in the room.

He put his hand on my back and I could almost feel his energy, his pain, his suffering.  I could also feel his relief to be talking with someone who understands.  

Throughout the night he would come and stand next to me, touch my arm or my back.  He kept apologizing for it.  I told him that there is no need to apologize.

It is a great comfort to know that you are not alone and what you feel or what you are going through is hard. 

May is Mental Health Awareness Month.

It is important every month but times are really tough lately with the damn virus and the world is all turned upside down.  It is especially hard on teens.  

Please be kind to one another.

You never know what battles someone is fighting.

One Very Irrational Thought

 

I never regret posting about how I deal with my depression.  If it helps just one person, then it not only helps them, it helps me.

I have my quiet days.  They are further and farther apart now that I have moved back home.  

I think because I feel more loved and accepted here.

A lot of my depression stems from my own demons in my head.  They tell me that I am ugly, fat, stupid, unlovable.... pick any type of insult and my demons say it.

I wrote a blog entry on the night that I had a moment of irrational thought and almost committed suicide.

You can read it here ------>  Click on these words.

I still think about that moment and how desperate I was to just end it.  

People ask about my butterfly tattoo on my left forearm.

It is in my favorite color and it has a small semicolon for a body.

A butterfly is a symbol of change for me.  They are beautiful and fragile.  They can be joyful to see.  They are graceful and most have limited life spans.

We all have limited life spans.  Some of us live to be in our 100's.  That is still a limited time.

I'm glad that I didn't limit my own life span.

Depression is some ugly shit.

It can be managed but I seriously don't think that there is really a cure.

I know that I will never be completely done with it.  I am better with fighting it now.

Learn your triggers and avoid them.  

Phone or visit a friend.  You don't have to tell them why if you don't want to but it helps to just hear someone who fills the part of you where depression lays.  

Journal or just write about what you are feeling.  Keep writing until it passes.  It helps you recognize the triggers.

Love yourself.  I know it's hard because of the lies you are hearing.  You just have to find the strength to tell them to shut the fuck up.

An emotional support animal or even a plant helps.  You have to take care of them, if you aren't living, who else will do it?

Take time for yourself.  I drive to the big lake and just dip my toes in.  It doesn't matter if its cold.  It grounds me.

I also walk in cemeteries.  They are very peaceful.  I touch old headstones and try to connect.  This person is someone who was loved very much and I wonder who visits their graves now (other than me).

I paint.  I make a big messy mess and create the hell out of something.  It awakens my energy.  The colors collide and form some amazing stuff.

I also just couch potato.  Doing absolutely nothing allows me to speak to my inner self and watch some cute dudes on tv.  (haha)

To be back where my friends and family helps so much.

To be able to visit my sister and laugh until we are both crying is amazing.  I am so thankful for her.

To spend time with old friends is extremely comforting.  My old self is resurfacing and it feels great.

To make new friends is the best.  

I treasure all my relationships.

I am allowing myself to be loved.  I make no apologies for who I am and I am accepted anyway.

I love myself and this is the very key.  I love myself enough to take care of me.

Suicide is a very permanent solution to a very temporary problem.  

You are not alone.

If you would like to learn more about Project Semicolon, click here.

Project Semicolon

Suicide Hotline

800-273-8255

Ghost of Depression Past

 

I saw a new doctor the other day.  Since moving back home, I knew I needed a medical care provider.

I ain't getting any younger.

Well that and the fact that I have some health issues that need managing.

It was a much longer appointment that I figured on.  I was impressed that she took the time to get to know me and my health history.  

When it came time to talk about how I manage my depression, I got a little anxious.  Even though I have battled depression for a very long time, it sometimes isn't easy to talk about without my eyes leaking a little.

To accept the causes is a little painful and then to openly talk about them is almost traumatic.  

When I had to tell her about the time that I had contemplated suicide it was a little painful.  It is harder for me to talk about it because it is hard to hide the emotion when you are face to face.  When I write about it, you can't see the tears stream down my face or my lip quiver.

I have come a long way in my healing from the past trauma.  The years of mental abuse, self sabotage, feelings of being unlovable, failure, sexual assault, and various other bits and pieces of hell had taken its toll and all came to a head.

You can read that here ----> Click Right Here

The best healing I have done was just by moving home.  Its a place where I have felt safe and secure.  Being with people who have known me for a very long time has helped me reconnect with myself before it all went south.

The doctor asked me if I still felt suicidal.  I explained that I never really was suicidal.  It was that one moment of irrational thinking that could have been the end but instead of cutting or taking pills, I decided to stop and just write.

And that helped a little

The other part was to accept my traumas and not let them mold me.  I own them and keep them in a part of me.  I have built on the fact that they did not break me.

I also learned to accept who I am.  I don't hide my true self from anyone.  I own that part of me too.  My true self is someone who surprises me.  I don't have much of a filter these days.  I say what I think and am honest with those around me.  I am also honest with myself.

I no longer accept anything less than I deserve.  I deserve to be happy.

When things go wrong, I no longer blame myself.

Rejection no longer cripples me.  If I ain't your cup of tea, I can't sweeten it with my sugar.  My life goes on.

I recognize my triggers.  I steer clear of them or I don't allow them to control me, I control them.

My boundaries are set.  As I see myself in fullness, it is easier to see others in the same way.

I also try to communicate well.  If I need clarity, I ask questions.  If the answers are honest and open, I accept them and take them to heart.  Sometimes the answers aren't always what I hope to hear, but it does give some peace to know how the other person feels.

I am still not 100% but I can say that the depression episodes are very far and few between now.  I do laugh more and I feel happier.  I see it on my face and in my heart.

I am thankful for those who are a part of my life and accept my quirks and never ask for anything more than I am capable of giving of myself.  I am truly blessed by the friendships that I continue to have and I love everyone of them wholly and completely.

The Guarded Heart

I’ve been fighting demons again.

The struggle becomes so difficult that I’m my own enemy.  My mind becomes a weapon against me.

My walls are so damn high and I am just lost.

I need to get back into therapy before it becomes too late.

I used to love so easily and freely. I gave myself to those who didn’t deserve it, sacrificing myself in the process.

Lately I don’t even recognize myself.

I feel so unloved and unwanted, not only by others but even I don’t even want me.  I feel so unloved and closed.  I hurt.

A lot.

I don’t know what to do.

I sit in my solitude.  It is so quiet but at the same time I hear my mind just screaming.  I wish it would just stop.

The lies.  I know my mind is lying but sometimes is just easier to just accept the fact that I’m not worthy of a life of love and laughter.  I’m not worthy of someone’s time.  I’ve become an afterthought or even just a booty call and that’s all I deserve.

My mind is a liar and I just accept it.

I don’t know how to ask for help.

Tears stream down my face as I type this.

Every day I just feel more broken.

It's Ugly Head

Again....

It rears its ugly head.

It seeps into my deepest crevasses and digs deep.

Sometimes it feels so physical, like it grips so tight.

I felt it coming.  It was just a matter of time for it to start to really hurt.

Sometimes I cannot mentally prepare for it.  I just have to let it come.

So I hurt.

I fail to understand some things.  The why for what causes it. 

Like "Why doesn't he talk to me anymore?" and "I feel like I am just not good enough." and also "I am not strong enough to cope."

My daily physical pain wears on me too.  There is just never any complete relief.

The weather plays a part.  I am tired of fighting the cold.  Sick of the constant white backdrop.

Work is becoming mundane and repetitive.  Waking at the ungodly hour of 3 am is wearing thin.

Instead of reaching for a razor this time, I find myself wanting to just disappear.  I want to run and be unknown.  I want to reinvent myself and not be the current me.

It's such  a sad, lonely feeling.

There is no joy, no laughter, no happiness.....

only me and my depression....

Mark of Courage

A few weeks ago I have one scary moment of irrational thinking.  I was battling my depression and it damn near won.

Suicidal thoughts filled my head and I found myself in the bathroom looking for something to cut myself.

I wrote about that episode here:  The Face of Depression

I was hurting so very much and just was losing the strength to fight it.  I sent messages to those I love telling them that I loved them.  I was ready to give up.

For years I have battled the depression.  I've sought help.  I take medication.  I try to find my zen.  There was just a moment where I was just ready to let go of all that pain.

But I didn't.

The incident still lingers in the background.  I think about just how close I came to ending it.

I sought out something to remind me that I can't give up.  I looked for something to put in place that would stop me from harming myself again.

All it takes is one brief moment to commit suicide.

I started looking at tattoos.  I wanted to place it in a spot where I would see it and remember that my story isn't over.

I found a tattoo idea that I was drawn to.  A butterfly in blue, something that started off not so pretty but continued to live to bloom into something beautiful.

The semicolon body is to remind me that my story is not over.  An author uses a semicolon to not end a sentence but to continue on.

If you want to read about it, click here:  Project Semicolon

I have the tattoo placed on my left forearm, just above my wrist.  It is big enough to catch my attention at any time.  

Is is a reminder that I too will continue to bloom into something beautiful and that my story is never over.

I am the butterfly.

Like an Emotional Freight Train

It's coming again.

I can feel it.

Just of to the side and just out of view.

An emotional freight train.........

It has been a few weeks since my episode of unclear thinking.

I've made some effort to recognize the signs of the oncoming freight train of irrational thoughts.  There is always a threat of irrational thoughts with me.  It is just how I am.

I've built up a support system of friends and I won't be afraid to reach out if I need to.  I don't ever want to get that close to the edge again.

Sometimes I wonder how anyone could ever love me for how I am.

I mean, it isn't that I am a horrible person.  I don't pull wings off of flies to watch them suffer or anything.

I mean I do have these episodes of where I am not completely myself.

It is weird.

The thoughts are coming again.

Today I found myself staring in the mirror.  I felt hatred.  

I hate how I look.  That face staring back at me wasn't what I was used to seeing.

I don't know.

It is hard to explain the struggle sometimes.  It isn't a black and white type of thing.

I was thinking of past episodes from years ago when I used to self harm.  I never cut myself or anything like that.  It was different.  I really don't want to share it.  

It is strange to say that (type it) since I share just about everything here.

I am glad that I don't do it anymore though.

Today was just an angry day.

Angry with myself for just failing at things.  This in turn caused the emotional freight train to depart brain station.

I am going on another ride soon.

Aftermath

It has been a few days since I had my horrible episode of depression.  I wrote about it here: The Face of Depression

Since writing that entry, I have received several messages from people I didn't expect.  It was nice to hear that I am not alone and that I am truly cared for.  

I didn't write it for attention or for any sincere comments.  I wrote it for others to understand that they do not suffer alone.  I wrote it for those who thought what they were feeling was unusual or weird.  I also wrote it for those who do not understand what it is like to suffer with depression.

I received a call from someone close to me.  They thought that I shouldn't have written it and/or shared it with anyone.  

This was upsetting.

It took some courage to express what I was feeling.  It also helped me out of the black hole.

If what I write saves one person from jumping off the cliff, then I think that it was the right thing to do.

I am feeling a little better as of this writing.  It takes time to heal.

I did call my doctor.  These feelings of self harm have been strong.  We have come to the conclusion that because of being taken off my birth control, it has caused some serious hormonal imbalances.  

The last episode of insanity happened about this same time last month.

No joke.

I damn near lost someone who means the world to me just because my brain decided to malfunction and my voice of reason took a vacation.

I didn't write about it.  I didn't talk about it.  But it happened.  

I am thankful for their understanding and forgiveness.  A true friend is a very valuable treasure.

My doctor and I have decided to monitor my imbalance with no change in medication.  If we don't allow the hormones to find a way to chill on their own, we may need to address it again.

For now, I have a support system in place.  My system includes carrying the suicide hotline number with me at all times.

For now, I have survived another battle but still continue to fight the war.

Suicide Prevention Hotline

800-273-8255

The Face of Depression

My face is the face of depression.

Tonight it is at an all time maximum.  I don't know how to ask for help.  I do not know how to control it.

It consumes me.

Just when I think I'll be ok, I have sunk even lower before.

I stood in the bathroom for some time trying so hard to compose myself.  I was fighting the urge to cut my wrists.  I caught the pill bottle out of the corner of my eye, held it in my hand for a moment.  I opened the lid and dumped the contents in my hand.  The pills felt like pebbles as I stood there crying.  For one brief moment I considered popping them in my mouth but I dropped them into the toilet and flushed.

I cried harder.

How do I ask for help?  At this hour?  Who do I call?  Where do I turn?

I feel so alone in this.

I came back to bed and decided to write.  Writing seems to help.  I hesitated because I am sure there will be someone out there reading this who will think that this is all for attention.  

If it is you, you can kiss my ass.

My face is a face of depression.  There are many more like mine out there.  

We are not alone.  There are millions of faces just like mine.

We can be good liars.  We will tell you we are ok when we are breaking inside.  We will tell you we are fine when we are certainly not.  We will smile, joke, laugh; hell, some of us are downright funny.  But we are dying inside.

We mostly suffer in silence.

We believe that we are unlovable.  We believe we are overweight, ugly and damned.  We believe that we aren't worthy of being happy.  We believe that we will be rejected by anyone we reach out to.

Why would someone love us, we are just a hideous mess?

Depression isn't something we can just "get over".  We just can't take a walk or soak up some sun.  It doesn't work that way.

It is so difficult to explain how depression feels.  It is way more complicated that just being sad.  It is more than just crying.  It is more than just feeling empty and numb.

Depression is a liar.  I know this and I am sure that others like me know it as well.  Sometimes the lies become our believable truth.

Tonight was a small victory, the pills were flushed.  There are many others out there who lost their battle.  It saddens me that we do suffer alone when there are so many of us.

My face is a face of depression.

Above photo was taken right after I flushed the pills.

Suicide Prevention Hotline

800-273-8255

I'm Tired

I'm tired.  Not just a sleepy kind of tired.

I'm tired of feeling lost and disconnected.  I try to find some sort of direction but often find myself in circles.

I'm tired of living this mundane life with the same day over and over again.  I keep thinking that it will change but it never ever does.

I'm tired of being alone and feeling lonely.  I have so much to give but there seems to be no one who wants to receive.  There isn't anyone to talk to and it seems that my dog is the only one happy to see me at the end of the day.

I'm tired of the struggle of being on my own.  I have no one to to share the heavy load of running a home.  

I'm tired of fighting depression.  Every day seems to big a huge struggle to get out of bed and put on a fake face that hides the demons that haunt me.

I'm tired of giving it my all only to be shot down time after time.  My accomplishments are never recognized and the only time I hear anything is when I am failing.

I'm tired of crying.

I'm tired of feeling like I want to curl up into a tight ball hoping that I just disappear.

I'm tired of trying to be strong.  The knot between my shoulders grows tighter every single day.

I'm tired of just being me.  Sometimes the thought creeps in. the very thought of ending everything.

I'm tired of being afraid to reach out for help.  Help can be expensive.  Have you ever had to pay for therapy?

I'm tired of shit just going all kinds of wrong.

I'm just so tired.

"Funny" Does Not Translate Into "Happy"

I wasn't going to mention Robin Williams but I guess I just did.

Seems that the whole world is buzzing about it.  It also seems that many are also mentioning suicide and posting links to hotlines and such.

Not to be a negative Nancy, because it is all quite nice and all, but why wait to say something after someone famous dies at their own hands? 

Many of us suffer from depression.  I have written about it numerous times.  I struggle daily with it.  It isn't something that you can just make all better with pills and conversation.

Trust me....

To describe actual depression to someone is almost impossible.  We each feel it differently and yet similarly at the same time.  We try all sorts of methods to keep it in check.  We talk about it, write about it, sing about it.  It is just still there.

Sometimes it becomes too intrusive and we have to go the drastic route to eliminate it.

And that's unfortunate.

I haven't been blogging much.

I have been struggling with my own issues.  Life hasn't been too grand.  It has been downright shitty.

I am amazed at how well I am holding up.  

I did take a time out from Facebook though.  This always helps. People are shitty.  They may not think that they are, but....  Well, you know.

I get sick of hearing about other peoples shitty lives.  I get sick of people passing judgments.  I get sick of all of the negativity.  I get so sick of the narcissism. I get sick of all the happy posts too.

None of this shit is good for those of us who have depression.

There just ain't a big enough pill for that.

I find that taking the time to focus on other things helps.  I start reading more, creating more, getting out more...everything else more and FB less just helps. 

I suppose I could write out all of the shitty shit that I have been dealing with but seriously, no one needs to read it.  I am not looking for sympathy or solutions.  I certainly don't need another anonymous letter showing up.

It's my shit and I'll deal with it.

I just want others to know that depression sucks.  You can say poor Robin, he was battling some serious shit....blah blah blah.  Yep, he was and that shit won.

Those of us who suffer from depression tend to mask it rather well.  We sometimes are silent.  Some of us tend to use humor.  I think some of the funniest people are also the most depressed.  

When reading some posts about Robin and so many people can't understand why someone who was so funny would want to kill themselves.  

I know exactly why.

Funny does not translate into happy.

Dirty Little Liar

Depression

Many people talk about it, many people have it, many people don't understand it.

There are many descriptions of it and how it feels to have it.  There are treatments for it.

I have had it for many many years.  Ever since I hit puberty, I have dealt with it.  Sometimes it ebbs and then there are times it flows.

This time of year is difficult.

I have the moments where I don't want to get out of bed.  I have the teary eyed drive home moments.  (The car is such a bastard because it traps me with my thoughts.)  I have the moments of insecurity and can't even stand my own reflection.  I have the "I'm so broke, I can't do anything fun" moments.  I lose interest in anything that gives me the slightest joy.  I think I have no friends or have friends that just don't give a shit.

Life becomes flat.

There is no other fix for it than just plugging through it.

I try to block out the damn lies that depression whispers in my ear.

It tells me things.

You are not good enough.  Nobody loves you.  That big zit on your face will never go away.  You will never ever have any money.  You are ugly.  You are fat.  Everyone leaves you because it is your fault.  You can't do anything right.  Your animals are going to die because you mistreat them.  Your kids think you are a failure.  You are just so stupid.  

and the list goes on....

All lies

When you are in the pit of depression, the lies become so believable.  One million people can all tell you that they are not true and tell you so many positive things but you tend to believe those whispery lies because you know you best.

Even your little helper pill doesn't help.  (citalopram, zoloft, lexapro, paxil, prozac...for examples)

So how to deal with it.

Good question

I tend to just accept it as it is and hope it passes quicker than the last bout with it.  I never have thoughts of suicide but I can see where someone may be pushed to that level.  I tend to think about running away, just disappearing into the unknown.  I start looking at other countries or places to go.  I look at job postings and plan an escape.  It takes long enough to check everything out that I kind of forget about the depression.

Funny, eh?

I know that there are so many other people who deal with depression and that is just sad in itself.  Sometimes I wonder why so many of us have to deal with it.  

This world would be such a better place if we just didn't have depression.