My purpose for writing this for those who are suffering, I want to be able to reach out and help them. Hopefully to save a life.
Let me be honest – I am suicidal.
There, I said it.
No, I don’t mean I am going to end my life. I don’t want to physically die. Although the thought can be appealing, it is something I resist on a daily basis. There is this dark shadow, lurking just behind me. It likes to remind me that I have a type of sickness.
I wish I could just be sad because that to me seems normal. Unfortunately, it isn’t my normal. I feel this sense of dread and weakness. I don’t have the urge to get out of bed and brush my teeth (and to the surprise of no one, my teeth have paid the price for that).
Brushing my hair, taking a bath and just doing basic day-to-day tasks seem anything, but basic. My feet drag doing the laundry against my will. Motherhood holds me, hostage, because it must be done. Correction – Depression is what is holding me against my will, I am its hostage.
Every day, I grit my teeth and muster my strength just enough to tell everyone, including my kids, that I am fine. I laugh my classic fake laugh that I’ve practiced so well over the years. No one even knows what I am really experiencing.
They don’t know that this smile, this laugh, this “good day” is really all a pretend. Like a child playing with a Barbie doll, who is having mac’n’cheese in her make-believe mansion – this is all for play. In the shadows, the late-night hours and in the shower where I am alone, I cry. Why am I crying?
It’s something I cannot answer, no matter how hard I try. I can’t tell you I am feeling upset, because I am not. I cannot tell you I am feeling sad because I am not. I am feeling something else entirely. Something else that is too hard to put into words.
When I am alone, I drag my feet, going about my day-to-day. Food is unappealing. I ate yesterday, so that should be enough for today. There is no motivation to get through the day and sometimes in life.
Depression is painful, and I’ve been dealing with it forever, but, officially, I was diagnosed at 14 and have kept it untreated. I’ve taught myself to mask my pain and how to live with it. I’ll fall off the map for a while, but eventually, I return. Then that darkness will return and the cycle will repeat.
I push through the thoughts of depression defeating me, I push through the idea of giving up. There is something worth living for! I will not become what depression labels me to be.