I’ve seen a few status updates today talking about Suicide Prevention and I know a few people on my social media lists are struggling with depression. I want to share something, because I’ve lost too many loved ones … and I was almost lost myself.
(Warning: Strong language)
About 15 years ago, I was living in Toronto on the 5th floor of an apartment building. I’d been broke, homeless, and hungry so often during the previous 8 years that it seemed like those things were the fabric of the marriage I was in at the time. I didn’t know how long I was going to have a roof over my head this time and, I was recovering from a near-death illness that made it impossible for me to even think about getting a job. I was scared all the time. I was angry and frustrated … and …
I didn’t know it at the time, but I was depressed. I didn’t know it when I gave away the things I loved and valued. Precious things from my childhood. Beloved things I had carefully saved up for – not expensive or grand items; books, a pretty blouse … things that made me feel happy.
It didn’t dawn on me that I could possibly be depressed, because I was always the up-beat, positive, forward-moving one that people looked to when they needed to be lifted up. There was always hope! Tomorrow was a better day waiting to pounce on us!
I had no idea I was depressed until I opened the bedroom window one afternoon, pulled the screen off, and hoisted myself over the sill. Hanging half-in and half-out of the window, I looked down at the pavement below trying to decide if 5 stories was high enough to kill me. I figured if I went feet first, I might just end up breaking a lot of bones, but if I went out the window headfirst …
That thought didn’t scare me. Not a bit. I didn’t think about how anyone would miss me or what would happen to them afterward. Except, I did wonder one thing: What would *I* do after I was dead? Believing that I am an eternal being meant that death wouldn’t end the pain I was in. I would take that shit with me into the next realm and probably into the next life. I couldn’t stomach the idea of dragging my pain any further – infecting my eternal life with a temporary torment.
I climbed back into the bedroom, sat on the bed, and cried. Then, I went hunting. I tracked down the things that were making me unhappy. I dug to the roots of the pain, took names and notes, and when I could, I began eliminating those things.
See, I had something call “Situational Depression“. Change the situation that’s causing the depression and it goes away. I dug deep and turned to face the enemy that put me so low in order to attack those hateful things instead of myself … I knew I had to share with those who are struggling right now. I desperately need to tell you this:
“Thought about quitting, then I noticed who was watching.”
GET THE FUCK UP!! FIND YOUR ENEMY AND FIGHT, DAMN IT! I love you and you have no clue who needs you! Find your enemy; situation, environment, chemical imbalance, whatever it is – hunt it down and FUCKING “KILL” IT! Remove it from your life with extreme prejudice like you’re a fucking sniper with no mercy.
You are the Light the others (including me) rely on when seeking an escape from their own Darkness .
Fight the Darkness Without Mercy. Lay your head down to rest. Then, get the fuck up, and fight some more.
You and me: We’re going to win this fight together!