“”Suicidal depression is a state of cold, agitated horror and relentless despair.” The first thing I think when I wake up in the morning is “Oh my fucking God, do I have to do this?” Then I think, “what is the reason that I need to be here? There’s no good goddamn reason why I even exist in this world.”
No matter what, everything I look at means nothing. Everything I listen to means nothing. Every thought I think about is a waste of time. Nothing brings a smile to my face. All I know is I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t tell you nor can you help me even if you knew.
Smiling faces are history. Warmth and closeness is something in a TV show or in a movie. No one wants to see me nor do I want to see anyone. When you try to get close to me, I kick you in the shins. When you tell me how much you care about me, inside I hate you.
Family goes away. If they don’t go away from me, I damn sure don’t wait from them to help or love me. Children are just images from some time in history. Loved ones are behind that ten foot tall wall of despair and rage.
Things that I love to do; gardening, hiking, fishing, loving, eating out, going to events, hanging out with friends, all the shit goes away, slowly or quickly.
“…Everything is an effort, all day and throughout the night.”
It’s an effort to open my eyes. It’s an effort to take a breath. It’s an effort to take the blankets off my body. The hardest challenge of all is to put my feet on the floor. The worst part of it all is to go into the bathroom, look in the mirror and see my own face. I don’t want to shave, I don’t want to brush my teeth, I don’t want to shower, I don’t want to put on clean clothes.
Then I make myself go in the kitchen and try to convince myself that I deserve to eat food. I convince myself that I deserve to drink water and that I’m worth going shopping for. I have to convince myself continually all day long that is okay for me to be alive. I had to convince myself that it’s okay for me to fucking exist in this world.
“…There is no hope, no point, no nothing.”
The most gratitude I get is when the sun goes down and the day time is gone. In the nighttime I can’t see the outside world anywhere so I don’t have to think about what was going on outside of my four walls. In my world that means that the only thing that exists is between my two ears. It is a living hell.
I wake up all hours of the night. I’m grateful for talk radio because that reality, even though what they are talking about is not important at all, takes over in the moment and the despair is less. At least I can think about something else besides how fucked I am for at least that second between unconscious and consciousness.
There were many times during the week when the only reason I would exist was to drink my Peet’s coffee. I would only go out of the house to go to therapy and to get food. The rest of the time I did not go out. Why do anything? I’m just going to fucking die.
This post is dedicated to my dear friend in Sacramento and to all people who suffer like this. You are not alone and I get the despair. I am not in this place now, but I am one triggering event away from it.
Quotes by Kay Redfield Jamison.
Happy Birthday to the Leprechaun