I’m about to be very vulnerable. And very honest. And it’s terrifying. But I’m tired of mental illness and suicide lurking in the shadows because people are afraid to talk about it or look it in the face. Maybe it will cost me, but I feel like I’ve lost just about everything already, so I don’t have much else to lose anyway.
Last night I cut myself. Like I used to long ago in high school when I first became depressed. I have been feeling completely worthless for awhile now. Feeling like I have no purpose and make no difference in life. All I seem to do is hurt others and screw up. So I cut myself to feel some other kind of pain. I cut myself because I believed I deserved it. And I seriously considered ending my life because I felt like everyone would be better off without me.
Some people will stop reading this now. They’ll pretend like they didn’t see it so things don’t have to be awkward when they see me. They’ll pretend they didn’t see it so they don’t have to talk to me about it. But things don’t have to be awkward, and it’s okay to talk about it. I’m still here. I’m still living my life the best I can. I’m trying to find even the littlest reasons to stick around and have hope, despite depression, despite anger, despite desperation.
This is life for many people. Some keep hurting themselves, some stop. Some choose to end their lives, some choose to keep living. In my opinion none of that determines whether a person is good or bad, sane or crazy, wonderful or evil, despite what stigma may say.
Some people will keep reading this. They may have questions. Ask them. They may be afraid. That’s okay. So am I. But I’d rather face the fear than live in silence.
I was so happy to see this article, https://www.ksl.com/article/50088066/huntsman-mental-health-institute-at-university-of-utah-dedicated, and learn of this new Mental Health Institute that is opening near where I live. I have continued to feel like mental illness and mental health challenges are getting ignored, and even attacked, since Covid hit last year. The only things so many people seem to care about or show concern over are Covid and politics. I was even attacked and purposefully publicly humiliated by family members for an article I posted on this blog about how the shaming people have been doing has added to an increase in depression and suicide.
It is good to know that there are still people who are actively working to help those of us with mental illness, actively working to make people aware, despite those actively working to silence our voices and harm and condemn us. Keep trying. Keep doing your best. We can make a difference.
I feel stuck. This has been a really bad winter for me so far, and it’s not even halfway done. I have this urge to hibernate—to hide away from everything because everything is just so hard. I keep trying—trying to be a good mom and stepmom, a good wife, a good coworker. I keep trying to keep my house clean. I keep trying to write. I start. I write a few sentences, then I stop and can’t write anymore. I keep trying to find motivation. But I have none. I just feel stuck. Even when I do put forth that effort it exhausts me, so I don’t even know if I’ve done the right thing or not.
I just feel stuck. And tired. And wishing I could hibernate until spring.
Winter is in full swing and so is my seasonal affective disorder, or SAD. The cold, cloudy, dark days and nights have really gotten to me. Other stress is also weighing me down. I’ve been trying my hardest to stay out of the clutches of depression, but winter is an especially hard time for me. One thing that helps are the birds.
I live close to a Waterfowl Management Area, home to more than just waterfowl. It is a stop for migratory birds, and winter and spring is filled with them. I love going out there to watch them and take pictures of them. It doesn’t cure my SAD, but it at least gives me a little bit of joy in an otherwise bleak and dreary time.
What hobbies or things do you do to help yourself with your mental illness? I believe we all have something we can use or lean on to at least help a little.
Walking through that door makes the blue a little lighter. She holds space as I gently spill. We sit, we talk - we water, dig and bury. Nurturing a shoot. Aiding it in light - to find its path through thorns - Malan Wilkinson