Each year, May is recognized as National Mental Health Awareness Month. I thought that I might write about a revelation I had early this year, regarding my own struggles with depression and suicidal thoughts, but I didn’t realize it would take me so long to complete it. This subject and this post have been very difficult, both for me to face and for me to share. The fact that I was so uncomfortable with it convinced me even more that this was important to follow through with, despite the anxiety and tears. It took me nearly the entire month to move past my own avoidance and blocks to complete it, and I hope that it is helpful to others.

For a long time, I was misinformed regarding suicide. I believed the misconceptions that I saw in the media, whether tv, movies or the news, as well as the stories of those around me. The only other time I remember hearing suicide discussed was in junior high, but even then I can’t remember if it was during class or a school-wide presentation. What I took away from that lesson was to watch out for loved ones who suddenly began giving away prized possessions, because that was a sign that they could be planning to commit suicide. That was the extent of my knowledge and understanding of suicide and suicidal thoughts for a large part of my life.

Due to this lack of information and guidance, for a long time I believed, as do others, that suicide was a selfish act. I believed that someone who committed suicide was only thinking of themselves, and their own pain, and did not give any thought to the pain and suffering of those that would be left behind. They didn’t give thought to the burdens, both emotional and practical, that their loved ones would be faced with in the aftermath. I remember being very angry with my uncle, who died by suicide in December 2009, for the nightmare he left for his family to navigate. I remember thinking, “How could he do that to them!”

By the time I heard the news about an old high school friend’s death by suicide in 2013, I had read a lot more about suicide, talked to others who live with anxiety and depression as I do, and had a better understanding of some of the ways that those with severe and/or chronic depression think about suicide. I knew that many individuals who died by suicide, or had attempted to, believed that their loved ones were better off without them. Many believed that their act was one of selflessness; a sacrifice for those they love.

For a time, I understood all this as a concept, but I didn’t really get it. I believed that I would never attempt to take my own life because I wouldn’t want to put my loved ones, especially my daughter, through that kind of pain. I continued to believe this until the beginning of this year. 2017 was an incredible hard year for me and my family. We suffered the premature birth and death of our son, Lincoln, in April (our second late pregnancy loss in 3 years) and an early miscarriage in November. At a certain point, I felt like I was grappling to the point of suffocation as I tried to manage my life. I wasn’t mentally present for my daughter, which added to my feelings of guilt and inadequacy. I was impatient and harsh with my husband, subjecting him to my mercurial moods, which heaped even more guilt onto my conscience.

I remember struggling to make it through the work day, and coming home with no other desire than to collapse in my bed. There were many days that I did just that. When my daughter would want to play, I would tell her that mommy didn’t feel well, or that mommy had a headache. I felt terrible, because all she wanted was my attention and companionship, and I just didn’t have it in me to give it to her. I began to think of stories I’d heard, of adult children talking about how they had to tiptoe around their parent’s mental illness, and I wondered if that’s how my daughter would look back on her childhood someday. Mom closed off in a dark room, while she had to stifle and withdraw herself. I began to feel sorry for my husband, having to step up and take on more of the burden of the household, all while dealing with my ever-changing moods that went from loving to pissed at barely a moment’s notice.

That’s when the lies of my depression started to get louder in my head. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I was putting them through because of my mental illness, and my inability to manage it. I started to think that I was making them suffer now, and that it could only get worse and more damaging as time progressed. I felt ashamed and scared, and I thought about how much easier life could be for them if they didn’t have to deal with my issues. That they’d be better off without me, and that I would be saving them from having to endure it all any longer.

I just as quickly realized that this is what people were talking about when they said that some individuals who attempted or even died by suicide truly believed they were making a sacrifice for their families. That it was for the best. Once the thought came to my mind, it felt like looking at one of those Magic Eye 3-D picture books. It’s a distortion, but once you adjust to seeing the picture in a different way, it’s difficult to stop seeing it that way. Now that I’ve had thoughts that my family would be better off without me, I can’t uncross that line. And it’s hard not to feel the weight of shame that comes with it.

In spite of that, I know I have to be diligent to also have counter arguments to the lies and distortions in my head. Shortly after I thought about my family being better off, I talked to my husband about these feelings; I also talked to my therapist. I honestly don’t remember the conversations themselves, only that I have an agreement with myself to be honest about these thoughts and feelings, so that I don’t allow them to fester and grow. The conversations were difficult, but also reassuring. It’s hard for my husband to understand the way my mind works, but he’s always open in a safe and non-judgemental way. My therapist helps me to remember that these thoughts are not abnormal, considering my depression and the recent hardships we’ve handled, and that I’m taking the right steps to face them.

I’m working on my feelings of self-worth, and building a positive image of myself. I’m working on lowering my expectations of myself, so that I don’t feel like a failure. I’m working on remembering that I am a perfectly imperfect person, and that I am worthy of the love and admiration of those around me. Most importantly, I’m working every day to remind myself that both I and my loved ones are much better off with me, than without.

However, it’s still a work in progress. Whenever I share these types of posts, I try to end things on a positive note. I try to share tips or tools that have or are working for me. I don’t want to just share a sad story, have others pity me, and leave it at that. But I don’t have a tidy bow to wrap this one up in. As I said, once you see things a certain way, it’s difficult to unsee that. Simply talking to my husband and therapist about these thoughts and feelings haven’t made them go away. Working on how I feel about myself has not made them go away. Whenever I lose my patience and temper, or struggle to be present, with my husband or daughter, I have a niggling thought of them being better off without the turmoil I bring. There’s a possibility that this will be a life-long struggle for me. But as my husband said, honesty is an important part of any recovery. I don’t have this figured out. It doesn’t have an ending. All I have is the honesty of my truths, and the hope that that is enough for me, and for you.

Here is my fourth essay, of seven, about my experiences with depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts, as well as tools, resources, and inspirations. I hope they help, and that you know you are not alone. Suicide is preVENTable, so let’s vent together. Talk it out!

My Experience: A couple of years ago, I made the decision to go on medication to help me with my anxiety and depression. For so long, I had avoided medication because I believed that if I could just be more disciplined, I could get better on my own. If I could just be stronger. If I could just be better. I believed that medication was a sign of my own weakness. However, an incident occurred that made me understand that I had been strong long enough, and that asking for help was its own kind of strength.

I have always had what are called, “worry fantasies”. These are daydreams that I have, and they often cause anxiety or fear or sadness in me. They usually involve something terrible happening to myself or someone I love. I call them emotional cutting, and sometimes I indulge in them just to feel something, because I’m so numb from depression.

Two years ago, I met a man on a plane. He was friendly… a little overly friendly for my tastes. Not in a sexual way, but I tend to be reserved and like to keep to myself. We were speaking about my work in housing, and towards the end of the flight, he asked for my phone number. I can’t remember why… it had something to do with my work. And for some ridiculous reason, I gave it to him. After getting my bags and heading home, I began to obsessively worry about that bad decision and that guy. I don’t know why, but my mind began to obsess on him coming to hurt me. Eventually, my mind began to obsess on him coming to my home and hurting my husband and daughter. I no longer wanted to leave the house because of the overwhelming anxiety and fear. I did, but I would panic each time. This is when I knew I was out of control and needed help. I told my husband what was happening, and that I had decided to go on medication. I also told my brother. It was embarrassing. Humiliating. I felt like a crazy person. But telling was the right thing to do, and the first step to helping myself. Just as writing all of these posts are. The medication helped immensely. My worry fantasies lessened to nearly non-existence. I worried that medication would only mask my issues, and only help me to avoid them. I was wrong. Medication has allowed me some room to breathe. It’s helped me think more clearly so that I can tackle my issues head on.

My Tools:  As I mentioned, my third greatest tool has been going on medication. It is a very personal decision, not to be taken lightly. There are downfalls to the medication. In some ways, my emotions are muted. But, for me, they’re not gone. I just have to work harder to bring the right ones into focus. Medication has made a tremendous difference for me, and I’m glad I took the leap of faith.

How To Give Support: When it’s more than you can handle, then it’s time for you to ask for help. This is just as true of someone caring for an individual living with depression, as it is for the person living with the illness. You aren’t failing your loved one if you are at a loss of what to do, or if you’re at the end of the line of your capabilities. It’s ok to ask for help. Sometimes that is the best way you can support a loved one. This article talks a little more about how to help your loved one, and ways to get your own support at the same time.

Resources:  ADAA, or Anxiety and Depression Association of America, is helping to bring awareness and improve the diagnosis, treatment and cure for survivors. Also, Freedom From Fear is a wonderful mental illness advocacy group.

Share It Forward: “The more people share their experiences with depression, the more others suffering from the condition realize they’re not alone,” says Kat Kinsman, author of this enlightening piece, Going Public with Depression, on CNN.com. She also includes links to other articles/podcasts/etc. at the end.

Here is another comic that I can identify and laugh with. The work done by Brian Gordon, of Fowl Language Comics, always seems to connect with me.

Here is my third essay, of seven, about my experiences with depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts, as well as tools, resources, and inspirations. I hope they help, and that you know you are not alone. Suicide is preVENTable, so let’s vent together. Talk it out!

 

My Experience: Since I’ve already covered both depression and anxiety, this post is going to be about suicide and suicidal thoughts. As is often the case, suicide runs in my family. My great-grandfather committed suicide by hanging. My uncle shot himself. Another close family member, whose anonymity I will respect, has attempted suicide more than once. The first time I ever thought about suicide, I was 12. The last time I thought about suicide was about 8 weeks ago. I’ve never gone beyond the thoughts, but they have been scary enough, and obsessive enough, that I have taken them seriously. These thoughts are not always present. Looking back at when I was young, I think that I didn’t have the words or the maturity to express my feelings. I didn’t want to die, I just wanted my pain to end and I couldn’t think of any other way. I don’t remember having those same thoughts again until I was nearly 30. My mother had had a stroke, and I was both supporting her financially and as her caretaker. I didn’t have a lot of support. I was working two jobs. I wasn’t eating healthy, wasn’t sleeping well, and I was overwhelmed. I began to feel as I did when I was young. I just wanted it to end. I began to fantasize about my-then boyfriend’s (now husband) shotgun. I also thought about hanging myself in the backyard. After some time, I told my-then boyfriend about my feelings and thoughts, and asked him to get rid of the gun. I didn’t think I would do it, but I wanted to stop fantasizing about the possibility. I also told my brother and my best friend, just to keep it from being a dark secret for me. It still took me some time to start therapy again, but all of those things helped me. At one time, I started taking medication for my anxiety and depression and I went off of the meds twice. If, on a scale of 1 to 20, with one being my lowest emotionally, my depression pre-medication brought me down to an 8, going off of the meds took me down to a 2 or 3. It was very scary, and made me understand the importance of working with a doctor to go off of meds. Both times eventually brought on suicidal thoughts that frightened me enough that I had to ask my husband to help me make sure I took them. Let me be clear. I do not believe that I will ever take my life. I want to live, for so many reasons. However, there is a little voice inside my head that whispers about it and sometimes a whisper can be more frightening than a scream. So I remain vigilant against the voice.

My Tools: While speaking with a friend, who whose husband had recently died by suicide, about my experiences, she asked if I had a crisis plan. I had never heard of one. She gave me a quick explanation, and I looked into it further. I created a plan that helped me immensely when I had suicidal thoughts about 8 weeks ago, and I wrote about that experience. You can find a template for creating your own plan here.

How To Give Support: The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline created a great toolkit that I highly recommend.

Resources:  Take 5 To Save Lives is an amazing website, and I’m grateful for the information it has.

Share It Forward: Many people attempt suicide and are lucky enough to survive and share their stories with us. This is Silja Björk Björnsdóttir, and her words on the taboo of depression are so moving to me.

Here is my second essay, of seven, about my experiences with depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts, as well as tools, resources, and inspirations. I hope they help, and that you know you are not alone. Suicide is preVENTable, so let’s vent together. Talk it out!

My Experience: The other side of my depression coin is anxiety. The two go hand in hand like chocolate and peanut butter. Anxiety keeps me up all night, and depression keeps me in bed all day. Anxiety is in part a result of my depression, telling me that I can’t do anything right. However, in some ways, I think I’ve always been an uneasy, anxious person. I can remember being very anxious as a child. I’m anxious almost all the time.

Often, the anxiety is just a whisper I can tune out, but when it’s loud, it screams. One day, I was at my daughter’s school, helping the other board members with a deep cleaning of the school before fall classes started. I can be a little OCD about cleaning, so I was making sure that the legs and underside of the tables were clean. The entire time, I was having an internal dialogue about how the other parents probably thought I was taking too long. I’m sure they weren’t, but that was my fear. My depression gives me a negative view of myself, and my anxiety, at times, is that others will see that. My depression tells me I’m safer isolated, and so I become anxious when I ignore that compulsion and put myself out there. I’m anxious now, writing my truths for all to see. My internal dialogue is the harshest critic, but it attributes all my negative feelings and thoughts to those around me… insisting that this must be what everyone is thinking. Making decisions can be hard for me because I worry about the consequences of making the wrong one. I get overwhelmed and anxious at work for the same reason, and it can be stifling. I get anxious going to parties, especially if I don’t know many of the guests (if I’m ever late to a party, there’s a chance it’s because I was panicking at home, trying to talk myself into going. If I’ve been invited to a party and I didn’t show up, there’s a good chance I just couldn’t get past the panic). Hell, I get anxious going to large family functions. I’ve just always felt like an awkward outsider, no matter where I am, and it’s difficult to enjoy something with the mean internal dialogue that often accompanies me. Identifying with others has helped me. I’ve learned that there are so many others whose anxiety and depression manifests itself in many of the same ways that mine do. It makes me feel like less of a freak. Recently, I learned that there is a name for my habit of picking at my cuticles when I’m nervous or anxious. The habit goes back to at least my teens, and there are times that my cuticles and the areas all around my fingernails are torn, scabbed or bleeding. Often, I don’t realize I’ve done it until it’s too late. Other times, it’s a compulsion I can’t stop. Either way, I thought it was a shame only I carried. Knowing there are others that do the same helps me to understand myself better, and see that there is another way for me. I’m learning more and more that it’s ok to be me, and I’m really not so bad.

My Tools: I mentioned in Part 1 that my most important tool has been therapy. My second most important tool is talking and writing about my depression and anxiety. I’m blessed to have family (especially my husband) and friends that I can be honest with regarding how I’m feeling and what I’m thinking. When I was young, I wrote a lot of poetry. Recently, I have channeled my writing here, trying to express and share myself in a new and frightening way. Talking and writing about my feelings and experiences keep me from poisoning myself with the negativity.

How To Give Support: This site offers some simple tips for helping someone with depression, and #4 is often overlooked, but can be immensely effective.

Resources:  NAMI, or National Alliance on Mental Illness, is a wonderful resource for those with a mental illness like depression (or any other mental illness), as well as anyone wanting to give support to a loved one. The site can also help you find local resources.

Share It Forward:  As I mentioned above, writing has helped me live with depression. Obviously, I’m not the only one. There are many writers, artists, etc. that have channeled their feelings into their craft. Here are some wonderful examples of that kind of artistry:

Loudes Wainwright talks about his album, Haven’t Got The Blues Yet

Logic’s Anthem for Suicide Prevention, 1-800-273-8255 (the number for the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline, as this article details)

Finally, I just wanted to share this comic from Robot Hugs because I LOVE it. I highly recommend checking out the many other comics posted on the site.

September is Suicide Prevention Month, September 10th is World Suicide Prevention Day, and the Sunday through Saturday surrounding that day are considered National Suicide Prevention Week. Organization and individuals the world over spend this time trying to raise awareness, reduce the number of suicides that occur, and get help and hope to those that desperately need it.

Depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts are deeply personal; no two people will experiences them in the exact same way. However, we may share many of the same feelings and issues. There are many misconceptions regarding all three afflictions, and the fact that it is so taboo to speak of them allows those myths to continue. Those that know me personally know of my passion to speak about depression. That has not always been the case. Until 2013, after a high school friend’s death by suicide, I was too afraid to be honest with anyone outside of my close circle about my struggles. Now, I strive to break down the walls of silence that contribute to so much suffering and death. Depression and anxiety ARE manageable. Suicide IS preventable. As long as we are willing to talk, and to listen.

With that in mind, in 2014, I wrote a series of essays I called my Five To Stay Alive posts. They were originally published as Notes on my Facebook page, one for each day of National Suicide Prevention Week. In these essays, I shared my own experiences with depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts, as well as the tools I use, tips on how you can support a loved one who struggles, links to available resources, and inspiring stories/videos. I believe these five pieces may be the keys to keeping you or someone you love alive. Who knows? They are just my stories, things that have helped or inspired me, and I don’t want to be silent about this ever again.

I thought it might be beneficial to republish these pieces, here on my blog, during National Suicide Prevention Week. The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline has a new campaign this year: #BeThe1To. They recommend taking the 5 following steps: ask, keep them safe, be there, help them connect, follow up. Perhaps what I’ve written can help with that. My hope is that my posts might reach someone who needs them, at the right time. Or they might help someone else reach out to someone they love, to let them know they care and they are listening, so that they can be the one. That’s my goal, at least, and I thank you for reading.

My Experience: I’ve spoken with many friends about my openness regarding my depression. It’s was a coming out of the closet type of thing for me. Perhaps coming out of the darkness would be more appropriate. However you see it, it was therapeutic for me. At the same time, I still held back. In part because some aspects of my depression are embarrassing… humiliating even. The other part is because my depression still tells me I need to hide away. That if people saw me for who I really am… well… that would be the end of friends, love, etc. So I decided to facing those fears head on. I’m not looking for sympathy or for anyone to feel sorry for me. I just want to help anyone who reads these words and recognizes themselves in them. I want to say we’re not alone.

My husband once told me that his mind is a dangerous place to be. That was something I could identify with. I can literally lose myself in my mind. Lose any sense of who I really am, and get sucked into the vicious picture painted of me by my darkness. The only way to stop this, for me, is to talk about it.

The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline started a campaign called “Suicide is preVENTable”. I think it is fantastic. We live in a world where we are bombarded with advice like, “Look on the bright side,” “Don’t dwell on the negative,” “Count your blessings,” “Complain less.” The list goes on. So many of us with depression retreat. We depress. We shrink and hide and stop sharing ourselves. We believe that no one wants to hear it. Or maybe I should just say I. I feel like that. It’s not the way. Talking, writing, sharing, opening up… it takes me further and further from the darkness and gives me lifelines to hold onto.

So I’m going to write. Since I began opening up about depression, many of my friends have opened up to me as well. It has helped me feel less isolated. Less alone. Less like a damaged freak. It’s wonderful when you are able to identify with someone else. I recognize myself in others, and it soothes me. My hope is that by writing and sharing with all of you, anyone who is struggling may have the same experience. My hope is also to help myself, because I’m not entirely (or even close to being) selfless.

Today, I want to focus on sadness, and how that is not my depression. Someone that has not dealt with depression may think that I’m a human version of Eeyore, feeling sorry for myself with a raincloud constantly over my head. That’s not my depression. My depression is a Pandora’s box of negative emotions, the strongest of which are fear and self-loathing. I identify with some of the information found on Wikipedia regarding Major Depressive Disorder, “Major depressive disorder…is a mental disorder characterized by a pervasive and persistent low mood that is accompanied by low self-esteem and by a loss of interest or pleasure in normally enjoyable activities… A person having a major depressive episode usually exhibits a very low mood, which pervades all aspects of life, and an inability to experience pleasure in activities that were formerly enjoyed. Depressed people may be preoccupied with, or ruminate over, thoughts and feelings of worthlessness, inappropriate guilt or regret, helplessness, hopelessness, and self-hatred.”

I’m afraid of making mistakes, making a fool of myself, and of failing myself or others. I know many people have these fears, but mine leave me gasping for air and incapable of moving at times. I have these fears because I don’t believe I’m good enough. I have these fears because I believe I’m a fuck up that is just going to screw it all up. I believe that I am incapable of succeeding in anything. I believe my darkness. This is what it tells me. And my darkness has been with me since before I can remember. It is the voice I have heard more than any other. It’s taken a long time to realize that it lies to me. It’s taken a long time to realize that I’m in an abusive relationship with my darkness/myself. I am a battered woman, and it’s my own punches that have been thrown. In October 2013, Anne Theriault wrote a piece for Huffington Post, Ten Lies Your Depression Tells You that accurately described some of the lies my darkness tells me.

As with many victims of abuse (even self-inflicted), I also have a poor sense of self-worth/self-esteem. I don’t think I’m pretty, I don’t think I’m worthy. I never have…. But I’m working on it. I’m learning to build my self-esteem from the ground up now. At my lowest, I hide away. I don’t want to see anyone or do anything. Before having my daughter, I could stay in bed all weekend. Thus would begin my cycle: stay in bed, avoid everything, lay there and think about all the things I should be doing, start to feel guilty/bad/overwhelmed, go to sleep. Repeat. Not a lot of self-help there, which brings me to…

My Tools: The first tool I ever used to battle my depression was therapy. I was twelve when I first started therapy, and I’ve gone off and on all of my life. However, it was only as an adult, when I made the decision to go myself and I really committed to the process (including finding a therapist that was right for me) that it started to make a difference. It’s not the only tool I use, but I WOULD NOT BE ALIVE TODAY if it wasn’t for therapy. I truly believe that.

How To Give Support: There are wonderful websites and blogs that have tips for giving support to your loved ones. Here are a few of my favorites:

10 Ways to Show Love to Someone With Depression

Suicide Is Preventable

#BeThe1To

Resources: When I began therapy again several years ago, I worried about how I could afford it. Then I found a low-fee clinic with a sliding scale counseling program that serves individual adults and children, couples, and families, through both licensed and intern therapists. There are many community mental health centers, and both the National Council for Behavioral Health and SAMHSA can help you find an affordable one in your area.

Share It Forward: I saw this piece some time ago, and it has stuck with me. I posted it over and over on my Facebook page, to bring the point home. There was a time when I would say I suffer from or struggle with depression. Now I know better. I LIVE with depression. And I’m not ashamed of it. Kevin Breel’s Ted Talk, Confessions of a depressed comic, taught me that.