My thoughts and experience with depression and suicidal contemplation. Just a friendly reminder that this is not gonna be an easy read. Bear with me and read til the end.
Oh depression my dear friend, I miss you so. That's obvious sarcasm, not the most elegant start.
I'm choosing to go with it because this won't be elegant, dealing with it never is.
If you're wondering what spawned this, a few things actually. I've been meaning to get around to it.
The fact is I'm no stranger to depression, whatever degree it came in for me.
The big inspiration for writing this came from watching 13 Reasons Why, which was admittedly painful to watch. Mainly because I could totally relate. Not necessarily in the exact same way, but close enough to make it hit home. My school years were turbulent to put it elegantly.
I had been bullied in elementary, did some myself out of spite. There's no justification for that, but neither was that earth shattering. As young kids we went with the mood of the group, although wrong, hive mind tends to win. I'm not sure where all of that came from cause none of us was exceptionally troubled. It might surprise you to learn I apologized to the person that I bullied. I was acting out, I was wrong, I was ashamed, I was taking things out on a target. Somebody paid for my inability to cope.
I felt I was carrying the weight of my parents divorce, and it was eating me up on the inside. It wasn't pretty, my father lying about my mother and dragging her through the dirt. His general neglect towards to me, inability to connect, drunken rants about the unfairness of life and that I should be more like my brother instead of wimpy kid afraid of his own shadow. It all got the better of me, I didn't know what was right, what was true, what was real.
I didn't feel good in my own skin, I didn't feel like I belonged, I felt stupid and embarrassed for the way I acted in more than one instance. Especially going into high school. Getting into an altercation , that was in hindsight pretty damn retarded. If any other person had the balls to stand up and own up to what was going on I wouldn't have taken the brunt of a high school drama I technically had little to do with.
Ending up with getting punched in my stomach and being threatened with a knife, to this day I have no idea why I didn't just apologize or yielded. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was just tired of the injustice and general cowardice of people, so I wouldn't stand down. During that time I faced the big injustice of all, my father stopped picking me up, I felt abandoned, cast aside like a cheap cloth. It was one injustice and drop to much for my failing bucket. After that I wished I did, even though there was hardly any harm done. The punch was laughably weak and the knife nothing more than a blunt pocket knife. But that's all hindsight. The group standing around me asking for my punishment, asking for a fight, made the actual moment much more worse on a mental level than a physical level. So reiterate the damage done was mainly emotionally and mentally. I felt betrayed by my friends who wouldn't come to my aid nor stand with me, but quietly witnessed injustice. That instance had haunted me for years, not about what happened as much how everyone just had their tail between their legs. There were some that stood with me, but made no real effort to intervene. But in any case, that instance broke something in me.
It broke a levee, it broke my inability to communicate and formulate myself, only for a moment though. My breakdown at home and need to explain the situation to my parents, and writing a report for school helped put a few things in perspective. But I'll get to that later. There were far too many days that year after that situation where I just couldn't leave the house. I remember sitting against a radiator in the living room, the warmth on my back as I had my head in my hands unable to meet my mother's gaze. I hadn't been a coward by not standing down, but I hadn't stood up for myself either, I was just kind of in limbo. I begged my mom to let me stay home. I just couldn't do it any more, I wanted out.
I did my time and I want out
So effusive - fade - it doesn't cut
The soul is not so vibrant
The reckoning, the sickening
Packaging subversion
When I looked in her eyes I could see how much it broke her heart. She let me stay home a few times but she know as well as I did that at some point I had to go back. I couldn't hide at home forever. My emotions were like torrential rains sweeping everything with it, I had no dams, no anchors, no high ground, I just endured the weather and tides of things I couldn't make heads or tails from.
She screams oh
I've had enough please make this go
This sea is rough and I'm drowning slow
Her mind numbing pain has her lost in the undertow
I just wish she knew she didn't have to be alone
When I switched schools I stood up for my classmates when I felt they got too much shit. The fact of the matter was I just felt more depressed and more lost. This school was far more hostile, I retreated further into myself and into gaming, books and heavier metal. whatever would take me out of my own mind. I kept gaining weight, which didn't do much to stop people make fun of me. I wasn't on any girls radar. My unresolved feelings around my father, the divorce, my self image, my inability to connect to other people , my communication skills left me a loner. Distancing my self from my friends, family and the world made me more fragile and alienated. My social game was non existent because I didn't care and had no practice, I couldn't feel people out at all. I didn't want to hang with my classmates either and didn't consider them friends. I basically did the opposite of what I should've done. It left me apathetic.
There was this busy street I had to cross on my way to school. Everyday for those last 2 years in that school I played Russian roulette with those cars. I would just drive over the crossing without looking, or when I did look I wanted to take the risk. Imaging that maybe today the last thing I would see were 2 bright headlights. Like the eyes of the angel of death that would come to take me. At least it would get me out of school. I imagined what it would be like to be hit and lie there bleeding on the street as the paramedics arrived to the horror show that was the end of my life. It just kind of took it's own life, it would be different every time, but the gist stayed the same. I grew more bitter, more distant, more cynical, more apathetic. I didn't consider myself suicidal, just mildly indifferent about my continuing existence. If you know me well, this might be hard to read, we're not finished though.
Things get slightly darker.
I remember during that period that a friend, one that stuck with me throughout my entire teenage angst ordeal, lost a friend to suicide. The details of his death elude me. I remember holding her as I comforted her, feeling envy. Of all things, I felt envious. I admired his strength to take the “easy way out”. I glorified suicide and school shootings. My own all encompassing contempt would concoct revenge killings of those who wronged me to take back what they had taking from me, leaving me powerless. It would just as much concoct exit strategies of existence. This guy managed to escape the rat race and touched the people he left behind with his demise. I often wondered if I'd do the same, if people would be just as affected by my departure. Would anyone miss me? Would my parents be better of without me? the nuisance I felt to them. Did people at school really care?
I considered myself weak for not being able to take my own life. It was obviously a kind of strength that kept me afloat. Combined with a faint glimmer of hope that things would get better. Self harm didn't appeal to me, it just seemed counterproductive. I did apparently have a bastion of sound mind somewhere. It just kept me clear from the worst. To continue, I don't remember how but at a family gathering we landed on the subject of suicide. So I shared his story, the following is probably one of my most shameful moments to date. I defended his suicide zealously. * Clicks tongue *
If I could travel in time I would've hit my younger self in the back of the head.
Get the fuck out, stay the fuck out
It makes me sick (I'm alright)
Slit wrist theory, stains us all...
Things didn't change until I switched to adult education, started communicating with my parents and started krav maga. Getting out of the poisonous environment was like a release. I remember I felt so elated when I got my grade and the teachers telling me I failed. Hahahahaha, oh my god, I felt so free! Like a weight was lifted from my shoulders! So my parents went to the drawing board and I got enrolled in adult education, it wasn't exactly super fun, but it didn't suck too hard either. I remember starting krav maga that summer and something just clicked. I just had this focus, this drive, this lust for life! I would arrive 30 min early at school, previously my mom had to drag me out of the house. For the first time in forever I saw light at the end of the tunnel, and it didn't entail oncoming headlights. I just focused on what I needed to do and training. My escape habits were still in place, still gamed, still read, more metal, but now it was something that added to my life instead of being my life. I reconnected with my elementary friends and some early high school friends, I just looked at things differently. A little while throughout that process, I saw a picture of my overweight self and decided to do something about it losing 16kg in the process. I felt better because of my improvement of self image, my dedication to my krav maga practice, opening up to my parents about my wants and needs. I wanted to be in the military, so my mom told me to get my high school diploma first and then I could join.
The first mission was born, the first purpose. Something to chase after other than my tail.
I hated every moment in high school to the very core of my being, it oozed out of me.
If I could do it all over again I would've been honest my parents much sooner. Even if switching schools wasn't an option, I would've tried to get a better support system, get a counselor, whatever.
Kept my friends closer so I could share my thoughts with them. We're never alone, more people go through this. I'm happy I had the fortitude of mind and loving parents to keep me from doing something that would ripple and tear through this world. When I got my feet back on solid ground I remember feeling ashamed for those thoughts and feelings I had. Training changed everything for me, hence my trying to give that to other people. We can crawl out of our holes, especially if we stop digging them. Which is easier said than done, speaking from experience .
Bitter to the core.
Always want more.
Take what you can get.
But I'll bet that's never enough. Is it?
Pull the knife out of my back.
Let it all fade to black.
Made it so clear.
I think we're done here.
My major outlet was writing about my feelings, I still have some of these documents saved to date. Maybe they will see the light of day one time, but it's some pretty dark stuff. I haven't been able to write this for a long time, but I haven't felt associated to that person and those feelings for a very long time. When I broke up with my ex I delved deeper into training and self development. I'd encourage anyone facing whatever struggles to train, to seek to learn, to get help, don't do this alone. Cope with words, actions and perspective. Although my struggles might seem rather vanilla, it was happening to me in a time where the young mind was forming and where coping mechanisms were not in place. This was easy to write in a sense, but hard to admit the reality of my feelings. Perhaps for people that recently got to know me this comes a shock. For people that saw me growing up it must be like a different person entirely. I can honestly say I'm proud of my efforts to become better, stronger, more grounded, centered. I found a light with my parents, family and friends, and I wished to become that light. Don't judge me younger self to harshly, I'm not. I hope this sheds a light on some of my behavior from the past or the present and my undying drive to better myself. I would never want to slip back down the rabbit hole. I had slipped back when I tore my ACL, but I managed to pick myself up again by talking to my parents, my best friend. I had learned from my previous experience I couldn't do it on my own. I made my own through the world and I'm far from done. Thanks for reading til the end. I wish you much strength on your own journey.
