I’m Glad You’re Here and I Want You to Stay
a note on depression and the dark reality of mental illness
There is a place so desperate and low, that words almost can’t even reach it. A place where the sun doesn’t shine and dark, thick clouds and gloom cover every inch of existence. It is quiet and lonely, but deafeningly loud — somehow all at once.
You hear a voice telling you messages that feel so true and convincing that you can’t help but believe them. “You aren’t good enough. You aren’t going to be okay. You will never get better. You are worthless. Your life is worthless. No one needs you. The world would be better off without you in it. Your existence is a burden. You will never crawl out of this hole. You are better off dead.”
You wake up in the morning and before you can even open your eyes, those thoughts fill your subconscious, and every waking second of the day you crave the moment when you can return to bed and fall asleep and leave them behind, even for a few hours. It is desperate and terrifying, dark and all-consuming, blinding and so hopeless.
This place is called depression and it is real for so many of us. I, myself, am currently climbing out of the most severe depressive episode that I’ve experienced. It is still there, lingering over my shoulder, but I can feel it becoming more distant with time. It is not linear, and some days are still daunting and scary, but I am beginning to feel lighter moments now and for that I am so incredibly thankful and hopeful.
It happened all at once
It was like someone came into my brain and flipped a switch and everything went dark. The lens through which I saw the world was suddenly tinted black and therefore everything I saw, felt and experienced was touched by darkness. Everything I did was stripped of joy, every human interaction was colored by negativity and each day that was filled with beauty and so much life to those around me, was void of any real feelings at all for me.
It’s incredibly raw and vulnerable to admit the amount of time recently that I spent contemplating ending my life. I wished multiple times a day for it all to end, for the suffering to stop and for the world to just go on without me. In my heart and soul I knew that I couldn’t follow through with my thoughts, because of my two boys who need me. They were and have always been the only reason big enough. But I believed the voices that told me I was a burden, that I wasn’t enough, that I wasn’t a worthy mother, partner, friend, step-mom, etc. I truly believed that the world would be better off without me, and I wanted so badly to end my suffering once and for all.
From just the other side of that darkness, it makes my eyes well up instantly to think of a world without me in it. For my kids, my family and friends, and really, for me. I can see from where I sit now, just slightly removed, that I have so much life ahead of me. I have a life full to the brim of beauty and joy and laughter and success and fulfillment. To think I was desperately ready to cut that short and whole-heartedly believed that it was the best option, let alone an option at all, is heartbreaking to me. But it is a clear and true testament to how powerful mental illness is and how easy it is for anyone to fall into a depression that swallows them whole.
I’ve been touched by suicide
In my life I have been touched closely by suicide a few times. I had a close friend in high school who lost her life to suicide when sophomores. It rocked our world and left so many people with a confusion and shock unlike anything we’d known. I hadn’t felt depression (or anything close) at that age, so it shook me to my core. I remember feeling empathy and compassion for her, mixed with so much sadness and remorse wishing we all could’ve done something to save her. But I just couldn’t even get to the place that she got to in my wildest dreams and so I couldn’t understand. I didn’t know the darkness and the desperation and couldn’t wrap my young and naïve mind around how someone could reach a place so hopeless that they end their life.
By the time I experienced suicide again even closer to me, a few years later, I could. I had been through the traumatic loss of my best friend, felt the depth and despair of that grief and sunk into a real and all-encompassing depression in the months following. I now knew the pain so profound that it takes over and makes you desperate for an escape. For relief. Knowing this pain and knowing depression, I was able to see suicide differently. It was no less tragic, or painful or shocking. But it was less confusing, and I had more empathy, compassion and understanding than anything else. I got it now. And I get it even more today.
Just on the other side
As I write this, I’m sitting in the back yard with the sun shining down on me and the cool breeze hitting my face and I can actually feel those things.
I can notice the hummingbirds coming in and out of my company.
I can see the vibrance of the blue sky that is completely untouched by clouds.
And I can do all of that, because I’m no longer looking through the veil of darkness of depression.
I’m no longer completely encompassed in pain and heaviness. My wish is that everyone who walks through depression could make it out the other side to notice these beautiful things once more like me, but I’m not naïve enough to believe that’s possible. I’m heartbroken for the people in the world today, and every day, who are losing their lives to this awful illness.
If you’re experiencing depression right now or living in a different sort of hell, I want to encourage you to hold on for another day. Or even just another hour. There is so much beauty left for you to see and feel and hold and I promise you will get there if you keep fighting.
This life is worth living, trust me. And regardless of what your mind is telling you, there are people who love you and need you and want you here. Count me as one of them.
I’m glad you’re here and I want you to stay.