Everlasting Winter (Part 2)

When suicidal thoughts scraped through my brain like an ax-dragging maniac, I felt complete disappointment and shame. I foolishly compared myself to people who lead “normal” lives, and as I victimized myself, I wondered why I was chosen for this. After disappointment and shame, came guilt. My life wasn’t so bad. I was never abused. I didn’t grow up in a war-ravaged country. I was never a victim of third-world poverty. Part of me felt like I didn’t have the right to feel depressed. Then, I just felt weak. And so, the cycle continued. I would awake each morning and feebly prepare for another barrage of self-defeating thought and inner dialogue.

If you find it impossible to think of any positive aspects about your life, eventually those opinions of yourself become who you are, your identity. Your brain builds its damning argument that you truly are a worthless leech who doesn’t deserve the people around you or that you don’t belong in this world. It didn’t take me long to realize this, but it did take me a long time to convince myself that the terrorist in my head might be wrong. My inner thoughts sounded like a one-sided domestic dispute.

“You’re useless.”

“You’re worthless.”

“You’re so fuckin’ stupid.”

I was being abused by my own brain and the effects were starting to manifest externally. I moped around like I had Battered Spouse Syndrome. I lacked confidence, energy and the ability to see my own worth. I felt like I had to question my brain. I had to doubt and analyze every thought because, in a way, I couldn’t trust them. The road to recovery from self-inflicted mental trauma is a challenging endeavor. When you finally make the conscious choice to fight back, you’re committing yourself to endless, daily debate. And just like any abusive relationship, until the other half realizes your strength, you better be prepared for an onslaught of insult and degradation.

Each day I have to admit my mistakes and be okay with my failures. But, I also understand that the person I was 5 years, 2 years, even 6 months ago, is not the person I am today. Sometimes I still relive my past indiscretions. Sometimes, I feel like I don’t believe my positive affirmations or don’t see the good qualities that I know I have. The one thing that keeps me pushing forward is knowing that if I ever did give up and end my existence, the last thought in my head would be a lie. It would be a false admittance that I’m not a good person. A fabricated feeling that I must be perfect in order to live. And, it would be an untrue supposition that I’m unable to change, to redeem myself, and to help others. Slowly, I'm building strength and confidence in my fight against my infected brain. The parasite is dying and my mental health is at a stage of rebirth.

If you’ve reached the crisis of having to endure suicidal thoughts, a death is forthcoming and unstoppable. You are presented with the choice of two paths. One path is straight, flat, and dull. This is the path of suicide. The physical manifestation that your friends and family know and love, will cease to exist in this dimension. You will soon become no more than a fading memory of history passed. The second path is a harrowing journey, full of seemingly impossible peaks and valleys. But with most things in life, the harder the journey, the more rewarding the destination will be. If you choose to take this path, the death that you will witness will be much more desirable and fulfilling. This is the demise of your former self, the impostor. The sense of freedom that comes with this death is incomparable and joyous.

Ask yourself what you’re leaving behind if you feel like you can’t go on any longer. Visualize life after your death and how your loved ones will feel. Think about what it might be like to find your lifeless body or to never hear from you again if you decided to disappear and never return. Losing a friend or family member to suicide can be more difficult than a loss from accidental or natural death. Surviving family are usually left with unanswered questions because the stigma attached to mental illnesses lead the victim to cover up their suffering. Some may carry blame or take responsibility, whether it’s a correct assumption or not. Survivors of suicide are often diagnosed with PTSD due to induced anxiety and depression sustained from living through a suicide of someone they love. So, in a way, yes, suicide may end your own suffering. Or, suicide may just pass suffering on to those around you. The parasite will use you for its benefit, and when it has fully consumed your insides, it will leave your body and latch on to the people you love to start the cycle all over again.

Now, you might ask, “what about the people who feel like they don’t have anybody close to them?” The one’s who truly believe that no one will miss them when they’re gone? Each one of us has made some sort of positive impact in at least one person’s life. You are the reason why somebody smiled today. The thought or sight of you is the favorite part of someone’s day. Even the fact that right now you might be suicidal is an opportunity to help others. You know first-hand and in rawest form, what it’s like to not want to live anymore. You know the fear, the isolation, the insignificance. This means that you’re the most useful to those who are suffering from mental illnesses but haven’t reached the severity that you’re experiencing. You can become the fence in front of the cliff edge, the lock on the medicine cabinet, and the safety on the gun, for those in need.

To say that people who suffer from mental illnesses and attempt or succeed at committing suicide are weak, is short-sighted. It is extremely difficult to understand the pain that a person is going through each day. We all have different brains that span the spectrum of mental health and the symptoms those illnesses carry. Just like physical injuries, mental injuries have varying degrees of seriousness. We don’t know each person’s thought processes or past traumas, but as humans, we classify everything and lump them into categories, so we can identify them, thereby making them less scary or unknown. This is obviously a good thing. It would be even more difficult to explain what’s happening in your mind if there were no words for it. The problem lies in that, unless we spend ample time researching and learning the deeper aspects of mental illnesses, we continue to use blanket terms and barely scratch the surface. Until have droves of mental health experts with wide spreading platforms and mass populations willing to listen, people will continue to see only parts of mental illnesses, hence the reasoning for being considered “weak” or “crazy” by some. And that’s okay. Not all of us can walk a mile in someone else’s shoes. And, the opinion of the uninformed should be labelled as a work in progress. You know how strong you are. You’re fully aware of the gut-wrenching bullshit that you’ve had to put up with in your head for however long it’s been. Just keep doing you. Make small improvements each day that you’re still breathing. Keep failing but learn from each failure. And most importantly, understand that you’re not weak. The resilience that you show each day while fighting your demons is unparalleled. You can and will reach a point of strength where you can look forward with power and confidence and leave your dark thoughts behind.

*Just a side note.*

I was recently and graciously given some helpful advice from a friend with much more writing experience and talent than me. She reminded me that the way in which I write is a reflection of my current mental state, which is a state of healing. She also suggested that I remember to write with you, the reader, in mind, and that everybody is at a different level of healing when it comes to mental health. When I was in the climax of my mental illnesses, confidence, humor and empowerment were all values that were invisible to me. I saw people living happy lives, or read articles claiming the secrets to conquering my illnesses. I looked at it all with such disdain and bitterness. Like, there’s no way these people understand what I’m going through. My intention with this blog is to strike a balance between empathy and tough love. I understand the vulnerabilities and sensitivities that come with anxiety and depression. At the same time, I also believe that in order to get your life back you have to challenge your fears and weaknesses to uproot the potential that we all have inside of ourselves. It’s painful and it’s not easy, but it’s necessary. I choose to write with confidence, humor and empowerment as a testament to the hard journey that I’ve taken with anxiety and depression. It’s my big “fuck you” to the illnesses that tried to take my life from me. I hope one day you can do the same.