The stigma behind mental health is still real and ongoing. Even after all that I’ve been through, I can’t help but wonder how putting this out into the world will affect my relationships, my family, my career, and even the perception of those who only know me through the internet. However, I felt compelled to share my story after reading Madison Holleran’s story, by friends recently affected by depression and suicide, and by the arrival of September, Suicide Prevention Month. My goal and my only hope is for this piece to reach at least one person who is suffering or who feels helpless, and to let them know that they are not alone. That not all hope is lost.
Here is a part of my #LifeUnfiltered
I was seven the first time I threatened to commit suicide by screaming profusely to my parents that I wanted to jump out the window. Suicide was never mentioned again until 3 years ago when I hit rock bottom at the age of twenty-seven and in the throes of my depression wrote my goodbyes and that I was finally going to end my life.
Over those twenty years, I wasn't living and was barely surviving. For a long time I held onto this idea that if I just did what was expected... and that someday, one day everything would be right… I would finally be OK... As if somehow doing everything I thought I was supposed to do like go to college, get a good job, or be in a long-term relationship was somehow going to make me happy... One day. And I survived for twenty years on that notion and I lived consumed with the fear of screwing that up. Then I graduated, got a good job, was in a relationship but still I was the furthest thing from happy. That’s not to say that there wasn’t some glimmer of hope. There were some good times. However, underneath all that lived a darkness inside me that I kept hidden and a fear that consumed most of my days.
In those moments, I felt like Emily Dickinson with "a funeral, in my brain" and I mourned. Even when I knew the depression was ridiculous, it didn't change how I felt. And that's the thing about depression, it only gets worse when you know you shouldn't feel the way you do. At the end of the day, I didn't like who I was or the life I was living.
I believe that no one really wants to die. However, over those twenty years, the option of death provided a solace. There were days where getting out of bed was nearly impossible. I begged and pleaded for something to make it stop, to take me and to please put me out of my misery. All the while I thought: "This isn't right, something is wrong with me. I shouldn't be depressed, because I have everything I ever wanted and was supposed to want.”
Many of us get caught up in those ideas of what we should be doing, and it's hard not to do what you feel you should be doing. Whether it's the media, your friends, your family, or your work, there always seems to be something or someone telling you what you should be, what you should do, and what you should want. And for me it was an endless pursuit.
With depression it doesn't matter what you have, how much money you make, the house you live in, or what you look like. Depression doesn't discriminate. Because of it, for a long time I feared anyone would question my authenticity, my pain. I kept it a secret and I kept many people at arm's length to make sure it stayed that way.
Luckily that night when I wrote my goodbyes I was also able to reach out. Instead of committing suicide that night I called my therapist and a close friend to stay at their house. Writing my goodbyes also helped to break the silence with my family and gave me a safety net I never previously had. Eventually I realized I didn't want to die and that no one ever really wants to die. What I really wanted was to stop living my life at that time. So bit by bit I started to make changes. I didn't quit my job, move, get a new boyfriend, or do anything drastic. Instead, I started to search for what brought me happiness. I focused on what I needed and not what I felt like I should do. And slowly I started to fall in love with new hobbies, new friends, new experiences, new places, and cultivated a new outlook that helped me appreciate everything I had. I fell in love not only with my life, but with myself. I was no longer merely surviving, but I started to thrive. I could finally after all those years start to let people in.
I'd never wish depression, fear, anxiety, or suicidal thoughts on my worst enemy, but in a weird way it's made my life a little sweeter. Things seem a little bit brighter after being in the dark all those years. Not many people get second chances in this life and I feel fortunate I was able to give one to myself. Every day seems like a blessing and I feel grateful I didn't become a statistic.
But no one should become a statistic and depression should not be a life sentence or furthermore a death sentence. I urge anyone who is reading this that ever feels that way or has felt that way to reach out to someone. Whether it's family, friends, or a therapist, reaching out helps more than I could ever say.
If you would have told me three years ago this is where I'd be or these are the things I'd be doing, I wouldn’t have believed you. I didn’t grow up dreaming of climbing mountains, traveling the world, racing bicycles, skiing in pillows of powder, or most importantly having friends to enjoy these passions with. This isn't the life I dreamed of or the one I set out to live. I couldn't see that far ahead. It was never in my realm of possibility. Each one of these new experiences has taught me to embrace the unexpected, be open to change, and let me see what I am truly capable of when I let myself be limitless.
For anyone who has sent me a message, a letter, a postcard, left me a comment, or told me that in some way, shape, or form that I inspire you to not only live but to live life to the fullest, from the bottom of my heart, I thank you. Those sentiments mean more to me than I can ever truly say. I've kept every one, as you are each an integral part of the life vest that I've clung to at dark and difficult times.
Most importantly you've continued to inspire me to keep being me.
