This year has been really good for me, in terms of the darkness we call depression. It is now September and I haven’t had a crash since January.
That’s not saying I haven’t been engulfed in blackness that whole time. Oh, believe me, I have had my fair share. But the terrifying, Mr Hyde-esque black outs haven’t happened for 7 months now… And I count that as a win of epic proportions. And the funny thing is that… Well, I actually feel good about my depression these days.
Good, you gasp in horror??
Yes, good – because, while it is by no means gone or cured, it is no longer a collosal weight on my shoulders.
After the abortion, I allowed myself time to be utterly and totally miserable. I got fat. I never saw any friends. I went to work, I came home, and I cried (a lot). It was black everywhere I looked and I had no intention of searching for that glimmer of light.
What made the real difference is that I didn’t beat myself up for it. Yes, I was a useless excuse for a human being for the first half of the year… but that was ok. Actalky, it wasn’t just ok, I consider it a healthy use of my time to be a blubbering wreck.
So, when someone tells you that “no matter what, get up, get dressed, and show up”, tell them to get fucked. Because sometimes you need a day or a week or, hey, a long few months, to feel and process and just allow yourself to BE. Be whatever it is you are feeling: be sad. Be mad. Be heartbroken. Be completely hopeless. It doesn’t matter if anyone (particularly yourself) agrees that it is valid for you to feel that way. The thing is…you do. So, feel away!
And then when you are ready to come back into the world, it will be on your terms. And the chance of that massive meltdown creeping up on you xx years later due to unresolved issues is now much smaller (or so I hope – I’ll let you know how that goes for me).
And here is the great thing that I did during that hiatus from being a functioning human being – I embraced the depression. That’s right friends, I hugged that mother fucker and said welcome to the world of Nikki. Sit down, make and yourself comfortable while I get you a cup of tea. I’m sorry it took me so long to make you feel welcome.
I stopped fighting, guys. I have fully accepted that I have (not am –This is a very important distinction) depression. I have come to terms with the fact that this illness may very well kill me. This is not a popular ‘opinion’ (fact, if you’re asking me). Society hasn’t yet come to understand suicide. They think it is a choice we make. Like, oh, I’m so tired of this now, I think I’ll go slice my wrists. For fucks sake, people. Really? No-one in their right mind chooses to inflict life ending pain on themselves. And that is exactly the point: we aren’t in our right minds. The depression takes over it or alters it or something we don’t quite understand yet. But it definitely is not a choice.
And having that taken away from you… That power. It’s devastating. So I fought for that power back for years. But no more.
The war on drugs doesn’t work. Nor does the war on terror. So why would the war on mental illness work?
So, thank you very much for your strong opinions on how I should be fighting harder and how I’m giving up and shame on me. But you can take those words of advice and, well, I don’t care what you do with them as long as they’re nowhere near me.
Yes, it’s shit that I know I’ll likely kill myself one day. But, you know what? Its not today. And that is all that matters.
Today, I live my life knowing that I do not have all the time in the world. So, you better believe that that means I’m living today to its fullest. I’m taking those risks. I’m hugging my loved ones extra hard. I’m working my butt off to make any difference I can to this world, while I can. Because tomorrow might hold an indescribable darkness for me.
In a world that fears death so much that we make up gods and heavens and reincarnations and who know what else, I am comfortable with my mortality. And that terrifies people. I get that. But I genuinely think it’s a good thing.
So please don’t feel sorry for the poor suicidal girl, I’m doing just fine. Me and my new friend, depression, over here are gonna hug it out and get on with life, no matter how short that may be.