“Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.”
A little over a week ago, a friend of mine committed suicide. Someone who by all accounts , including my own, was a loving and generous friend, who brought light into the lives of those around him.
This recent tragedy has made me think more about my continual battles with depression, and how hard the last seven months have been for me. When I first heard the news, I am ashamed to admit that general sadness and shock was not my only initial reaction, but the realization that this could be me. This could have been two of my friends discussing my recent demise.
It's not an easy thing to write, to admit to yourself that you're so unhappy there are some mornings that you don't want to get out of bed, that you wonder if anyone would really notice if you just left everything behind. There are some days when I want to get in a car and leave behind my friends, my family, my job, my husband. That it has been months since I've really let my husband touch me or offer me comfort. That I am upset with the entire world for not seeing what is going on, and take out that anger on my own body.
We all have darkness inside of us. For some, it is easier to handle I suppose, but for me, it has always been a weight, heavier at some times than others. To survive the past few months, I have done things that I am not proud of, but that I know I have needed to do. Does this make me a bad person? Is someone who does what they need to survive ever a bad person?
I'm not sure. I'm not sure if this is how Brett felt- the crushing loneliness of feeling so overwhelmed there is no path. I wish I had known. If I had I would have grabbed his hand so he knew he was not alone in the darkness. Maybe we would have found our way back together.
This recent tragedy has made me think more about my continual battles with depression, and how hard the last seven months have been for me. When I first heard the news, I am ashamed to admit that general sadness and shock was not my only initial reaction, but the realization that this could be me. This could have been two of my friends discussing my recent demise.
It's not an easy thing to write, to admit to yourself that you're so unhappy there are some mornings that you don't want to get out of bed, that you wonder if anyone would really notice if you just left everything behind. There are some days when I want to get in a car and leave behind my friends, my family, my job, my husband. That it has been months since I've really let my husband touch me or offer me comfort. That I am upset with the entire world for not seeing what is going on, and take out that anger on my own body.
We all have darkness inside of us. For some, it is easier to handle I suppose, but for me, it has always been a weight, heavier at some times than others. To survive the past few months, I have done things that I am not proud of, but that I know I have needed to do. Does this make me a bad person? Is someone who does what they need to survive ever a bad person?
I'm not sure. I'm not sure if this is how Brett felt- the crushing loneliness of feeling so overwhelmed there is no path. I wish I had known. If I had I would have grabbed his hand so he knew he was not alone in the darkness. Maybe we would have found our way back together.