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.
Showing posts with label wrists. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wrists. Show all posts
Thursday, July 27, 2017
Saturday, June 24, 2017
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
Labels:
cutting,
death,
depression,
fight,
hotline,
pills,
prevention,
sadness,
suicide,
wrists
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