Blurred Lines and Endless Tears

I was having a perfectly good day. It was Friday, after all, and who isn’t happy to see the weekend?

And then, out of nowhere, a cloud of depression came over me. I feel hollow inside. Just stark emptiness.

I feel alone. Like no one knows, understands or particularly cares about what I’m going through (which isn’t a fair judgement, I know, because I can think of a handful of people who do).

I feel disappointed. I expected more support from family and friends, but I’m just not getting it. Maybe people are just uncomfortable talking about it … maybe they don’t know how or whether to bring it up. Maybe they want to blissfully dig their heads in the sand and hope it goes away.

The problem with being the strong one all along is that everyone assumes “you got this”.

Well, I don’t. Not tonight.

Tonight, my depression has me.

I used to be so afraid – terrified, even – at the thought of discovering one day I have cancer. Like cancer is automatically a death wish. I used to wonder if I’d choose to fight it with chemotherapy or radiation, or if I’d quit my job, dust off my bucket list and travel the world with my kids so we could make as many memories as we can in what time I had left on this earth.

Now I worry about my depression. I worry that one day my mind will control my judgement, that I will think ending my life is the only way out. Now I’m deathly afraid that I will eventually weaken my fight against my depression until it takes me completely.

I don’t want to commit suicide and I don’t want to think I ever would, but people do crazy things when the going gets tough. People give up. I’ve seen it happen around me, right here on this small island I live on. People you least expected, the ones you thought had it all together, are the ones who give up suddenly and say, “Screw it. I give up. You win, depression. You win.”

I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to give up, but it’s scary knowing one day that could be me, hanging from a closet rod.

Just the thought of leaving my children in such a way – with so many unanswered questions, so much love lost, so much pain and anguish – makes me sick. The thought alone breaks me into a shamble of tears.

I can’t stop crying.

I.

Can’t.

Stop.

 

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