It's Not What You Think

In light of the suicide of Robin Williams, there's so much chatter and "professional" opinions flying around about depression, anxiety, mental illness, and substance abuse.

Well, here's my experience...

Have you ever been lied to, found out the truth, tried to forgive, only to realize that the relationship will never be the same?

That's what happens in my head. My depression and anxiety lie to me about my abilities to cope and function.

Has anyone ever stood in your face for hours on end and relentlessly called you names and told you how unworthy you are and reminded you of every mistake you've ever made... but instead of little mistakes, they make them all out to be catastrophic? And no matter how much you cry and beg them to stop saying those things, and no matter how much you defend yourself and can logically throw proof at the accusations, you just can't stop hearing the bad stuff?

That's also what happens in my head. I build myself up, but can tear myself down in an instant.

Have you ever had an idea that you were positive would work, but everyone had a million reasons why it was a bad idea. And their reasons only seemed to serve them and doesn't solve or remedy your situation? Guilt, that's what you're left with, which only tailspins you into feeling more defeated.

That's what it's like to think about suicide.

I'm currently in therapy 3 times a week trying to reconcile everything in my head. I'm at a very severe point in my depression. My anxiety is keeping me from functioning properly. I've tried to "suck it up". I realize "everyone has problems". I'm not "weak". I'm not a "coward". I understand that "people love me" and I know I "would leave a mess". If everyone saying all those things about this disease could only comprehend how much we've swirled all those things around in our minds. I can physically feel the pain and agony my thoughts are causing. I'm consumed with trying to dig myself out of one of the darkest holes I've ever been in. I cry trying to get myself out of bed in the morning. My chest hurts constantly. My heart races. It's hard to breathe. My hair falls out. And I'm fighting to stay alive. There's nothing cowardly about this fight. And there's nothing weak about giving in and ending it all. I will acknowledge that it's a choice to end one's life, which indicates that there's another option. But to a depressed person, suicide becomes the lesser of two evils, the choice that will make the noise in one's head shut down. You have no idea how loud and chaotic it is in here.

I'm doing what I can for myself and my family right now. I've lost my way a little but I don't plan on giving up until I find the right road for us.

Stop judging. Stop voicing your harsh words. Be a friend instead. You can't stop someone who's determined to hurt themselves, but don't let the last words someone hears from you be harsh and unforgiving.

I'm not lazy or crazy.

We've all had the flu or a hangover that's lasted a few days. You feel sick, weak,  antisocial, worn out, achy, etc. No one ever says, "Man, this is a blast! I could do this every day for the rest of my life!!"

Guess what? That's what chronic illness is. Fibro, lupus, thyroid disease, depression, anxiety... the list is long.

For those of us who suffer (and yes, it's suffering) from any of them, we hate it even more than the people who have expectations of us.

I guess I can't speak for everyone, but I know I'm not a loser. I didn't choose this. I don't want to isolate from my friends. I don't want to miss work and appointments. I don't like begging myself to pull it together so everyone isn't let down by me. I'd love to just do something different and change the way I think so I can be as productive as so and so. I think it would be cool to be normal. I would really like to focus on anything but my symptoms.... which, by the way, I'm not faking. I try to ignore them and convince myself it's all in my head. When that doesn't cure them, my brain goes into overdrive. Maybe I AM just crazy. Maybe I AM doing this to myself. But why? Why would I sabotage myself on purpose? Am I really thinking myself into numb, swollen hands with blisters? What about the headache and SEVERE fatigue? I slept 8-12 hours last night. There's no reason I should be equally as tired as when I went to bed, right? The hair loss is all me too? The sores in my mouth? The chest pain? The muscle aches? The joint pain and swelling? I'm obviously doing this to myself, like everyone thinks and insinuates and blurts out in arguments over my laziness...

Yeah, that's it. I'm 38 years old. I WANT to spend the next (God willing) 35 years feeling like I have the flu. I want to be weak, mentally, emotionally, and physically... because anyone who's ever spent 5 minutes with me would describe me just like that? I love not being able to focus on the task at hand and losing control of my body and life. I love losing friends who think I'm ditching them because I'm a jerk. I relish in the idea of yet ANOTHER Dr appointment where the highly educated professional won't listen to ME because my "numbers" are normal. It's pretty fun. I celebrate every appointment with a full blown panic attack. And then, I muster every single drop of energy I have to complete one task, to start a new habit, to attempt a better routine. I'm zapped, but I pull it off for a while. Then the crash happens. I'm physically exhausted, I'm mentally drained, I'm emotionally lost, and everyone around me is let down because I'm a hypochondriac who can't keep herself together.

(Please read that previous paragraph in a sarcasm font.)

I did not choose this, but I will choose to do what I can, when I can. And I'll choose to back away from anything that is too big for me to handle.  And I'll choose to untie anyone who doubts me, is unkind to me, lacks understanding, or is just a doodyhead in general, because I just don't need it. I will only surround myself with people who are honest and supportive and encouraging. That's what I deserve.

~h