A Cycle

The first time I told someone I was going to kill myself I was 14 years old. I was talking to my therapist. I went to acute care that night. Before I left she held my hand, looked me in the eyes, and promised that I would find light again in the midst of the darkness.

There were months at a time where I felt there had been some glimpse of a light at the end of some darkness, but I could never hold on to it for long enough. I would fall into what I call “ditches”,  which were periods of a depressed fog that I had no idea how to get rid of.

Eventually, I was exhausted. A component keeping me from speaking out about my returned depression was the knowledge that even if I got out of the darkness that time, it would always come back, for the rest of my life. I did not want to get better because I knew I would get sick again, I just wanted to die and stop wasting time.

I am constantly aware of my existence, and remaining vocal about my fear that the darkness will set in again. I am hopeful that my depression will never get as bad as it once was again, but I am sure there is darkness in store ahead. I write about my existence and appreciate it everyday. The best part about this blog is that incase I fall again, I have something that I wrote from my heart.

3 thoughts on “A Cycle

  1. I’m sorry for your circumstances and I believe that you can overcome them. I think there are many reasons to live and ultimately you’re going to have to chose some for yourself. Despite what you have been through, a fulfilling life is still possible. It might help out to call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline 1-800-273-8255.

  2. I don’t have a therapist, nor a family who care about me, or a friend.
    I am socially awkward, fat, suffering from anxiety and lost all my friends in the attempt of trying to fit in.
    My blood relation has tried to rape me countless times, and I am a victim so sadomasochim.
    I don’t have a reason to live anymore, give me one?

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