Fighting to breathe
The last few days have been ridiculously hard emotionally. There have been a couple of high-profile deaths by suicide, both of which felt like they came out of nowhere. It's led to a lot of discussion online about resources for people who may be fighting with depression, telling people to reach out when they are in trouble, etc. and so forth - the conversation that usually sprouts up when depression makes news.
The fact that a CDC report indicates that suicide rates have increased over the last fifteen years or so makes it seem like the normal conversation isn't doing the job. History has shown that after the initial few days of concern, things fade away until the next time. The problem, of course, is for those of us for whom the next time might be the last time.
I've made no secret of the fact that I've fought with depression in the past, and I've had to work through suicidal thoughts. I had thought before that I had battled the beast and because I was still standing, that meant I won. I had hope that it would be something I could say that I had defeated, that I would reach a point where, when those thoughts came back, it wouldn't be a long and draining fight. I could simply handle the issue calmly and rationally and go about my life.
Now? Now it's clear that this is a fight I don't get to win. It's a fight I'll have to battle every single day for the rest of my life, and at some point, I will most likely lose that fight. Someday, the idea that the world is better off without me, that I need to remove myself from the equation to make the universe make sense again, will come back with a vengeance, and I may not be strong enough to beat it back.
Something about this makes me extremely angry. My inner eight-year-old is throwing a temper tantrum, stomping and screaming about how it's not fair. It's not fair that I have to deal with this fight every day, just because...just because. Some accident of fate and brain chemistry and history and God knows what left me with a time bomb that I can't defuse - I can only delay the explosion.
It's bullshit, is what it is. I'd love to end this with some message of hope, of love, of wishing kindness upon the world, but I can't. All I can do is scream at the sky and look to tomorrow for a better game plan. There will be a tomorrow for me - my beast is, thankfully, beaten back for now. I need to take advantage of the break while I can.
The fact that a CDC report indicates that suicide rates have increased over the last fifteen years or so makes it seem like the normal conversation isn't doing the job. History has shown that after the initial few days of concern, things fade away until the next time. The problem, of course, is for those of us for whom the next time might be the last time.
I've made no secret of the fact that I've fought with depression in the past, and I've had to work through suicidal thoughts. I had thought before that I had battled the beast and because I was still standing, that meant I won. I had hope that it would be something I could say that I had defeated, that I would reach a point where, when those thoughts came back, it wouldn't be a long and draining fight. I could simply handle the issue calmly and rationally and go about my life.
Now? Now it's clear that this is a fight I don't get to win. It's a fight I'll have to battle every single day for the rest of my life, and at some point, I will most likely lose that fight. Someday, the idea that the world is better off without me, that I need to remove myself from the equation to make the universe make sense again, will come back with a vengeance, and I may not be strong enough to beat it back.
Something about this makes me extremely angry. My inner eight-year-old is throwing a temper tantrum, stomping and screaming about how it's not fair. It's not fair that I have to deal with this fight every day, just because...just because. Some accident of fate and brain chemistry and history and God knows what left me with a time bomb that I can't defuse - I can only delay the explosion.
It's bullshit, is what it is. I'd love to end this with some message of hope, of love, of wishing kindness upon the world, but I can't. All I can do is scream at the sky and look to tomorrow for a better game plan. There will be a tomorrow for me - my beast is, thankfully, beaten back for now. I need to take advantage of the break while I can.
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