My Last Post . . . On Depression.

There is a lot about depression that many people do not seem to understand. The most major thing that people fail to realize is that it is different for different people. For many people they ignore the feeling because it feels so normal that they just adjust to it, or so they think they adjust to it. It is the moment that a person thinks they are adjusting that they are at the point where they really need help. For me I hid it so well and had withdrawn in such a manner that I felt I was just going to live the way I was without anyone ever noticing.

The thoughts in my head became so strong that trying to ignore them was normal; it was a part of my day to day. There was no feeling of worthlessness just the feeling of how do I keep others from noticing that I am not happy. It became so hard to pretend that work was double hard. I had to remember how the normal me acted in certain situations and then precede to fake emotions and pretend I was the person I was before things got bad.

This all went on until my brain just could not take the extra effort anymore and was looking for a way, anyway, to make it all stop. So I got the idea of suicide, had I not used writing to express my sadness and tell my friends, family and the man I hoped to be the last man I ever loved, that I wanted to end it all, it would have certainly all stopped for good. I needed to be sure that it was what I wanted to do and so I went to work and sure enough, as the day went on I was convinced it was the right thing.

If it had not been for my mother checking her email before I thought she would, I would not be around to write about the ordeal that I had to undergo to not only understand what I was dealing with but the severity and then how to manage it.

Medication and a strong support system is what I was missing in my life. It turned out I had it all backwards and to this day I have to live with the hurt of when I realized that some people just do not care as much as they say they do.

The thing about medications is that you cannot just stop; I know I tried it and learned the hard way. When my medication ran out withdrawal began almost immediately. First I suffered from insomnia and then a total loss of appetite even when I sat down to eat I couldn’t and when I laid down to sleep my mind would race and my body would ach to be doing something more active. One would think that I would have used the time to be more productive but I could not, no matter how hard I tried. The thoughts got worse and worse.

At my lowest point I remember a wide range of emotions happening in rapid succession. I would experience fear for no obvious reason, anger, rage, sadness, hurt, despair, loneliness, I would try to attribute some cause to how I was feeling, try to pinpoint a why other than something being wrong with me but none of it made since and all I could do was sit and think. I was strapped in and the rollercoaster had begun to move and no matter how loud I screamed the rid would not stop.

For several days I dealt with this terrifying experience, I wanted to talk to someone but when I tried I could not form the words to say “Help.” I tried to explain what I was dealing with to my aunt and mother but for fear of over worrying them I simply told them I was not sleeping. It was the truth but not the whole truth. I wanted to talk to someone who I could feel would simply listen without trying to, “Fix me.” But I felt there was no one. I could never get the right people on the phone at the right time or they would try to have the conversation with me via text and one of my other emotions would take over and would come across as moody, or mean, or simply distant.

A part of me was screaming and screaming loud, I knew I needed help and the rational part of me wanted help. But what do you say to someone after you ask for help, what do you tell them? I was just going through withdrawal and in a few days it would be over.

The saddest part is that I was fine so long as I had some kind of immediate obligation such as work or meeting friends but the moment I had a day off the worst thing happened to me. I was at a point where I thought I was fine. I was taking sleeping pills to help me sleep and I was eating again but the thoughts were all still there. I would get scared to call my family for fear that they had bad news or that because I had not talked to them they were angry with me. I chose not to call friends because I could not think of a way to express myself that did not make me sound crazy. I was home alone and not a soul knew what I was up to.

Sitting at my computer working on my blog I thought I was fine and then I got a text while I was in a rage and I snapped at the person. The person having no idea what I was going through gave a nasty retort and I tried to explain myself but it was coming out all wrong, I sounded like a crazy person. I tried to call but there was no answer I wanted to explain myself and no matter how many times I called it was confirmation of my thoughts.  I had thought about all kinds of ways to end the pain over the past few days but each time I went to do it the rational part of me gave a reason why not to and I stopped.

I was now arguing with myself in my head, “DO THIS. NO, Do that instead! Wait this is a better idea!” I finally had it and could think of only one thing to make it all stop. I had done the research and the bottle was right there. “If you don’t want to talk to me then fine you will never have to deal with me again!” that was the text I sent right before I used what was left of a gallon jug of water to swallow an almost full bottle of sleeping pills.

I was shocked that it was so easy and I was sure I did not have long because I used liquid gels. I took a minuet and then it dawned on me that I was being irrational and in a panic and fear of myself I called 911. My head went into another whirlwind and I was thinking about so much so fast that before I could take a single action, the paramedics were already in the house looking for me. I was defeated and so I walked down the stairs and into the ambulance.

Even once I was in the emergency room I thought about running out. Even though I was faking calm my heart rate was elevated and my blood pressure was dangerously high. I felt I had lost the battle and that thought made me hope that somehow the pills would rush into my system and I would die the slow painful death that I had read about.

However I knew that being where I was it was the start of another amusement park rid and I was strapped in and could not get off until the rid was over. So I sent a text and told the person who I sent my last text to that I was in the ER and to call my mother. After I sent the text it was clear that my stomach did not like how the overdose felt and so I vomited. I then was given a drink to induce me to vomit yet again.

When my mother arrived the feeling of defeat was so strong that I cried and cried hard. I never cry, since I was in middle school I had simply stopped crying I just get sad or depressed and when the feeling is gone I return to normal. But this time I cried I was exhausted and could not fight what was going on inside of me. I could not bottle my emotions and I could not voice how I was feeling so there was only one thing left to do and I did it.

If you have read all the post prior to this you know how this story ends. I do not share this story for sympathy or kudos or anything of that nature. I am simply sharing in hopes to help someone else, to let people know some of the things that can lead to suicide, and that depression is a lot harder to deal with than people think. Depression is also difficult because it effects and manifest it’s self in many different people in many different ways.

Sometimes I sit and think about all that I have lost to depression, in a way I lost some friends, I can no longer trust people the same way I used to and I lost MeTo. I tried hard to be honest but for the last few months I just could not tell anyone how I felt because I did not know how. My real friends made an honest effort to help me but how can they help a person who has learned how to fake being well, so well? My life has changed so drastically because of this; mostly for the good but there is a whole future that I was so sure I was going to have that is gone.  I mourn that loss as I should and I hope that the day soon comes when I can see a new future and be just as excited if not more. 

Simply put, this is my story.