Quote:
Originally posted by redlemon
I had considered posting earlier, since the stories are so compelling (especially World's King), but I had no idea what to say. You are correct, I don't understand.
But I hope to understand a bit more. I would put in a "hope you feel better" kind of statement here, but I realize that would be trite.
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Thank you. And I do mean that...thank you.
My struggle with depression began in highschool...22 years ago before depression was understood as well as it is today.
After 3 months of feeling like hell, I swallowed a bottle of painkillers. I was found by my sister, taken to the hospital where my stomach was pumped and sent home with my parents. My doctor told them not to talk to me about it...it was just a "phase".
8 years later, while going through my first divorce I was hospitalized again. It was the first time a doctor diagnosed me with chronic depression.
Depression can be acute, as when someone losses a spouse, or a job. Or it can be chronic, reoccuring throughout one's life. It seems after the doctor did some talking to my family that I was genetically predisposed to the disease from both sides of the family tree.
What is being suicidally depressed like? It's a non-stop feeling of utter worthlessness. I'd wake up in the morning and feel like something or someone important in my life had died. It was a feeling of deep grief. I'd stumble through the day. The world was...grey, it lacked any color, taste or joy. Drinking made it worse. At night, I'd lay awake with a loop playing over and over in my mind of just how worthless I was. I couldn't make it stop. I'd cry at first but as I sunk lower, not even tears helped. So, I'd lay there in bed with a tape in the VCR playing over and over, just some familiar background noise to try and make my brain slow down, to make it be quiet for just a little while.
This went on for months.
I'd ignored most of my friends and family. I couldn't take one more, "for Christ's sake Kevin, pull yourself out of this." Crap, you think I wanted to live like that? Did they honestly think I wanted to be that way?
When I hit bottom, I honestly believed that everyone, my family, friends, even my 3 year old daughter, would be better off without me. Hell, I knew I was worthless, and I felt a total absence of hope. When you reach that point, suicide becomes a logical choice.
I remember getting the bottle of pills. I wasn't scared, I really had no feeling at that point. I just wanted life to end. I knew in a few years I'd be forgotten and it was a comforting thought. As for me, death couldn't be as bad as what I felt. Anything would've been an improvement. So, I swallowed them down, all 24 of them with a swig of red wine. Then I sat there. I didn't feel a damn thing. I'd expected something a little more melodramatic, I guess. Maybe writing a note to my daughter trying to explain.
I began thinking of my daughter. The most precious thing in my dismal world. I began thinking about how much this might hurt her. I got scared...what if she had the same misfortune to be born with a disease so few understood. Maybe I could help her.
I spent the next two weeks in a psychiatric hospital. Thanks to a fantastic psychiatrist, an understanding family, and a certain pharmaceutical, I came out the other side.
Was life as bad as it seemed? No. Could I do anything to convince myself of that while depressed? No.
People who are suicidal aren't weak. They aren't drama queens. They are screaming for help. You can't cheer them up and you can't heal them. But you can try and understand that they see no hope. And they need help. And it is deadly serious.