Many of us don't like to talk about the ugly things in life. When we're down, or crying, or feelng as if we're losing our sanity, we have this sort of encoded idea that these things aren't to be talked about. No one is to know about our dangerous thoughts, or the tears that are streaming down our cheeks, or the pit of darkness that we're living in. We must suffer this alone, question our existence alone, and ask if it's worth it... alone. Charlotte's latest blog post is about her thoughts of suicide; how she relapsed after so many years of telling herself that she would not be another statistic. She questioned God about her life, and asked if it was okay if she ended it. Then, days later, the thoughts went away. She was in the car with her mom eating an ice cream cone and listening to music. She was happy.
Depression is something that many people suffer all around the world. I have concluded that I am one of the many, and although I can be extremely happy and thankful for this beautiful life that I'm living, I have my down days where all I want to do is cry and let the pain rip through my chest. My breathing is shallow, my tears sting my cheeks, and I feel hopelessly lost. I think of talking to someone, but the truth is, no matter what anyone is going to say to me, I'm not going to listen, and I'm not going to look at the upside. When I become a victim and relapse, no one can help me. Relapse. Relapse. It's a haunting word, isn't it? It makes me sick to my stomach because it is a word not associated with anything happy or cheery. At least, I've never heard it used in such a context. Relapse sounds as though you're falling backwards, backwards, and backwards still; as though you've just lost your grip again and can't help but fall victim to your thoughts and feelings of hopelessness. Eventually these feelings lead to horrible thoughts.
I, too, have thought of suicide. Shocking, right? But yes, it's true. I've gotten into that mindset where you think the world would be far better off without you, and that you don't really matter in the scheme of things. How could I be so important? I'm just one person. Surely people could live on without one person, right? And then I would try to think of people who mattered; people who needed me. But no matter how hard I tried, they just didn't seem to matter. They were distant strangers whom I didn't recognize, and it got to the point where I told myself, "If I don't wake up tomorrow, that's okay." It wasn't a "head to the kitchen and stab myself in the heart" kind of depression. It was just sort of like, death? I'm cool with that. The next morning, I was glad that I woke up, because those feelings were gone. Since then, I've had my occasional bouts of depression, and they've lasted anywhere from two weeks to two months. They're never enough to where I think, hey, I'm gonna go grab a gun and blow my brains out! I don't think I could ever bring myself to take my own life. But I have starved myself, and I have thought about what it would be like to cut. Those ideas are always something that are just there, ready to be nuzzled up to when I experience one of my little episodes. But I'm strong enough to resist the cutting and any kind of drugs/alcohol because harming my body is something that I just can't do. Yes, starving is harming, but I did it once and I never want to do it again. Don't ever try it. It's dangerous and it hurts.
I know I'm not the only "good girl" who has suffered through things like this by myself. I have a few friends who also suffer from it, and it's true that the people who smile the most are the most broken. We think the most hostile thoughts and might even consider doing harmful things just to make the pain go away. But somehow, we always rise above it. We can cut it pretty close, but we do rise. It's an every day battle, and all we can do is stay strong throughout the depression and fight it off. Medication? Some people need it. I, for one, do not want to take it because it can make the symptoms of depression worse. I figure that if I'm too scared to harm myself, what use is there taking something that may make me want to? The innocent aren't always as innocent as everyone thinks. I may not smoke, take drugs, drink, or sleep with guys, but I do have a brain that can think up some pretty messed up stuff, and that's enough for me to handle without all the other shit I could be doing. No one really understands the severity of our thoughts; how far our minds explore the dangers of self-abuse by imagining what it would be like. These thoughts are our friends. Why would they hurt us? I understand what people are going through when they talk about doing these things. Trust me, I may not do them, but I understand.
I do have depression, and I do fight it. I am not afraid to admit it, and I am not afraid to live with it. I will continue to challenge myself by overcoming my episodes of sadness and insanity, and although I may not show it, know that I go through tough stuff too, and that you're not alone. You're never alone. Keep looking up, even when you think there's no up for you. Charlotte wanted to kill herself. A few days later, she was enjoying an ice cream cone while listening to music and enjoying the company of her mom. Live for the simple joys in life: a treat, a melody, and someone who loves you. Life is sweet, and so is ice cream.
Click ---- > Charlotte AKA: Midnight Love < 333333
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