Twenty five years on and nothing seems to have changed. I am 46 this year and yet I feel as I did at 21, still confused, still frightened, still lost. Depression has consumed so much of my life and despite treatment, despite therapy, despite all, continues to dominates all; now exhausted I consider taking my life. Why not ? Well there are a thousand reasons but nine of them seem to count in the morning when the fear seems to be at it’s worst. I stagger about wanting only to end the pain and yet could I go through with it ? My father killed himself when I was 12, my brother’s wife, a few years ago, the first, to a child, was devastating, I think I ceased to trust the world that day, the second, an ugly reminder of the power of this disease. A disease that I have pampered and brought on, ‘ is depression a choice ? ‘ possibly, I chose to place it at the centre of my life, I chose to let it dictate my choices, I let it squander my time, undermine my relationships, evaluate and redesign my car ear and above all to keep me hidden. I allowed myself to be blackmailed by fear and in doing so allowed that fear to grow to the point that it now seems insurmountable. My whole existence seems to have been built around the monster, a life, to keep me safe, and safe, dead. I have become phobic and entrapped. I want so much to start again but it now seems too late. I want so much to end it, to silence the black dialogue, to end the persistent reflections, to bring, if not peace, sweet oblivion. To step out of existence and to end the pain. Too long in bed, too long behind curtain and shut doors, too long fixated. I consider a rope, a night time hanging, a wood far away. But then the legacy, the impact on an already damaged family, the example set, but then all these caveats focus on others. Is it always good to set an example to others, to live, in order to suffer, and ‘yes’, I know that to live will mean continuing to suffer, my history guarantees it, habits built up over four decades are near impossible to shift. To sleep without dreaming, without awakening, to end thought.
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7 comments
I know how you feel.. but its never to late, and as crazy as it seems we can all start over together..you can email me at anytime
emilytaylo_@hotmail.co.uk
If you choose to suffer, let it be swimming against the fear.
I doubt that I ever ‘chose’ to suffer, choice was perhaps the wrong word, but I suspect that I was complicit; depression blackmails us, it threatens to expose us to our fears, makes us dependent on it, on others, on whatever we think to be safe, but in doing so it encourages those fears and encoraged , they gow. Does that make sense ? I do not choose to suffer but I did and do allow myself to be blackmailed. Trauma played it’s part, perhaps even genetics but ultimately it was me, I, who ran for cover. The issue is now whether I am sufficiently capable, sufficiently ‘strong’ to face / swim against those fears. The pain they enduce is real, the lethargy, the mood and all the rest that accompanies depression is real.
The pain is very hard, but the results of perseverance is worth it. Life is worth living.
I fully understand how you feel. I will be 42 in a few weeks, & I’ve struggled with depression since I was 8. I’ve tried counseling, medications, prayer, & self-help books, but I’m still in a horrible place. There are very few places for adults to find help. It’s like society believes you’re automatically cured once you hit 25, & that frustrates me greatly.
I have helium tanks & an exit bag. Apparently, I’ve done something wrong because I tried to end all it last Wednesday & this morning with no luck. I don’t know where else to turn, and I feel like I’m ready to “go.” I’m a Christian, & I believe God doesn’t want me to do this, but that he can forgive this sin because my despair is so great.
However, if you have even a shred of hope for your own life, I encourage you to find a way to grab onto it and persevere. Seek another counselor, a support group, or whatever can make things more bearable for you. Many blessings to you.
Thank you zebra soul
Zebra soul,
It seems peculiar that though we are willing to accept our own suicide, we, or most of us, advise against the suicide of others. Why is that ? Do we measure the lives of others more valuable than our own or do we not understand the quality of other’s depressive pain, only our own.