[Trigger Warning]
Today, for the first time in a few months… I planned my death. Sitting there at the dinner table while my baby girl refused to eat a meal I had made, the anger started to take over. The more she refused the angrier I got.
(PAUSE! Now I need to give some detail with what happens when I get angry. Its an emotion I show first, and usually quite spectacularly. When I get angry, there is NO difference in my head between my 2-year-old, and someone who cuts me off in traffic. The same level of anger and rage is used in both sequences. I learned anger as a self defense mechanism at the age of 6, and then it turned into a survival tool as I grew up. Thanks to the wonderful home I grew up in, I wasn’t afforded the opportunity to unlearn it. It progressively got worse until it was all I knew. It consumes me. I very rarely lose control of it, but even when I let it show in its infancy… it is almost biblical.)
Alright, so I am sitting there and I can feel it rising in me, and rising, and growing and festering until I was shaking trying to keep it at bay. She’s 2 and cuter than cute, doesn’t know any better just yet. So while I am watching her refuse, I am literally SCREAMING on the inside. But not at her. At myself. For being such a piece of shit, that I can’t even control the level of anger I have over fucking nothing… at my daughter. Now it’s a full on barrage of self hatred, suicidal thoughts, and furious questions! Like the “why me” I wrote about a few weeks back. Why me?! Why do I have to be like this? Why wasn’t I given a chance to be a different person. Why do the people that love me have to deal with this monster sitting in front of them? All of a sudden the whisper came in “they don’t! if you were gone… they would all be better off and happy.” and right there in that moment I figured out that my only choice for them to be happy and unafraid of the man in the house… was to no longer be there.
Yes, it happens that fast. This time, it scared me. This time, there was another voice that said “fuck that AND that other guy, you’ve worked too hard to get here!” Now there was an all out battle going on in my head, a legitimate fight for my life… and it seemed like I was just a bystander. It went on and on back and fourth so violently that I was a bawling and shaking mess. It’s one of the most bizarre and terrifying parts of my depression. My “episodes” are like a live-action nightmare that I can’t turn off, and I NEVER know the outcome. There was a moment when it was so intense that I stared at a mirror and figured out the speed I would need to break it and make it all stop (edited for T/W).
Anyways, this time I write, and expect it to be too hard for most people to read and that’s okay! This was one of the hardest pieces I have had to write. I need people to know that life with depression isn’t not wanting to be around people. Its not hating life. Its not something we or I choose. Most of all, its not always just an hour/day/week of feeling low. Its not wanting to be around people because you feel your worth is SO little that you’d rather struggle alone instead of burden someone BECAUSE you know what it feels like to be on the inside. Its hating yourself because you can’t figure out how to live up to YOUR OWN UNDERSTANDING OF HOW A HUMAN SHOULD FUNCTION (usually made up and projected on to people who seem happy and loved and cared for by our own judgement) Its bursting out in tears for no apparent reason other than your shadow looks as lonely as you do. Its feeling so damn clouded by darkness that you forget what the sun looks like even when you’re looking straight at it. The worst part? Is that this entire paragraph could change in the next hour. That is why so many people lose their battle!
I write to raise awareness (which means I want you to UNDERSTAND) about a demon so crafty and shifty that even as I write the attack on me is changing from hating my character, to hating myself physically. I am being shown flashbacks of my abuse. Having to relive it again. THIS is why so many of us are losing our lives. We WANT help, we WANT to be heard, we WANT to be understood but!…. have you read what I just said? Do you hear how fucking crazy it sounds?!?! WE KNOW IT DOES! So why tell someone, or reach out when WE can’t even make sense of it ourselves?! This is only a glimpse into the mind of people like me. Is everyone’s story as fucked up as mine? No. or is mine as “bad” as someone elses? Again no… but that is so far from the point that if you actually think that’s what matters… you better bippity boppity boop(love that meme) and get the phuck off my page ☺. NO ONES STORY IS LESS THAN ANOTHERS. Why? Because a struggle is a struggle is a struggle. And a lost life, is fothermucking lost life. If one of us loses your battle, we’ve all lost a battle. And THAT is what I mean when I say that you are not alone in your fights. Though our fights look different, we fight the same enemy and can only defeat it together!
Thanks for reading, and yes I am okay the fight is under control at the moment. Love you guys.
Grace and Peace.