This will be hard to write and for some, undoubtedly, hard to read.
I’m going to share my story in the hopes that it might help someone.
It’s no secret that I struggle with depression. Many are aware that there are days that I wake up regretting that I didn’t die in my sleep.
Mood wise, things got better towards the end of last year.
I noticed my mood slipping, but wasn’t too concerned as it always does during the winter months.
My life went to shit. I made some mistakes in the past that caught up with me and have created a difficult financial situation.
There were other things that I have to deal with that seemed harder and harder the more depressed I got.
Then my 11yr old Great Dane, Kharma started to show her age. Great Danes rarely live past 10, so this wasn’t unexpected, but the realization that my big girl is dying hit me harder than I thought it would. (I got tearful just typing that in fact). She is currently sleeping on the comforter behind me, so she is soldiering on.
Eventually, with everything piling on my depression deepened even further.
Then, one day I realized that things were futile, hopeless, joyless, and there was absolutely no light at the end of the tunnel.
I started to isolate myself as much as I could. I stopped looking after myself. I started subsisting on instant Pho noodles because the act of taking something out of the freezer to defrost was like trying to climb a mountain. I couldn’t even contemplate the energy it would take to prepare a meal, no matter how simple.
Often I would find myself sitting on the couch with Kharma’s head on my lap prematurely mourning her loss.
It became harder and harder to leave the house, except for work.
Even though it was difficult I did my best to stay in touch because I didn’t want people to worry.
Thoughts of suicide started creeping in more and more frequently.
That voice in the back of my head that speaks up at times like this, pointing out that people love me, people need me, my dogs need me, work needs me, and that things will get better became less and less convincing, and more annoying.
There have been a couple of times in the past where I reached this point, and during those episodes I became fearful that I would harm myself.
That fear wasn’t there this time.
There was only fatigue. A bone deep exhaustion.
I didn’t see the point of carrying on.
The internal struggle of choosing between living and dying started becoming a nightly ritual.
I had almost reached the point where the voice telling me to carry on was gone.
Then, at a particularly bad and hopeless moment that side of my brain made a proposition.
“3 days”, it said. “If you’re determined to die, 3 days won’t matter one way or another.”
So a deal was struck. I would wait 3 days and if things didn’t get better I would end things.
When I struck that deal I figured I would be dead in three days.
Three days passed, and I can honestly say that at that moment I’d completely forgotten about the arrangement.
It was a few days after that when while driving home from work I found myself singing along with the radio and realized that my depression had lessened and I was actually thinking about the future.
My personal life is still a shit show, Kharma is still approaching the end of her days, but I have plans on how to deal with it all appropriately. It will be hard, but not impossible.
I can see a light at the end of the tunnel and will eventually reach it, thanks to those 3 days.