March 11, 2017 at 04:12PM
Depression is a lonely state. I become consumed by a force that takes away all self-control- mentally, physically, and emotionally. It taunts and lies, saps me of all energy, and wreaks havoc on my emotions. It plagues me with feelings of guilt, shame, and self-loathing. It promises that I’m not good enough. It tells me the only way out is to die.
The box overflowed. The pain and fear overtook me and led to a suicide attempt. I felt I had lost the fight. After my suicide attempt, I cautiously began to write more honestly.
Through the many, and continuing, years of therapy, writing has become an outlet. Therapy was overwhelming, confusing and, at times, painful. Jumbled thoughts slithered through the folds of my brain, awakening painful memories and truths that I had hidden for so long. I compared my mind to a fine chain necklace, tangled and twisted into a ball. Writing became an avenue to untangle the snarled mess.
Sometimes people are intimidated by writing in a journal. They might feel that they have nothing to say. They might feel that they do not have anything worth saying. They may not have the energy to pick up the pen. I felt all these things in my life. But sometimes, asking ourselves the simplest question can get us going: What am I feeling today? Some of my journal entries are short words in response to that question. Sometimes my page is filled with expletives to reflect my feelings. Sometimes I can’t stop writing until I am exhausted and my hand aches. The point is that there is no wrong way to express what you feel and what you’re going through.
Following a second suicide attempt, I searched the internet for support from other attempt survivors. I found projects that gave people a forum to tell their stories. In that time I found the Mighty. Article after article I read words that I could have written. Reading these stories inspired me to share my story, too. With the help of my journals I pieced together my story, and was ready to share.
via The Mighty