choosing to take antidepressants

Before the tragedy – the loss of a good friend well before his time – I had gotten complacent vis-a-vis my depression. I figured “well, I’m still breathing – it could be worse and so long as it isn’t, I can deal.” But the problem is, depression can work incrementally, bringing you down into the abyss one step at a time. I had gotten to the point where suicide was a viable option and I hadn’t even seen anything wrong with it, really. I just… felt like shit and every day felt worse than the one before it. I didn’t care about anything. It’s not that I didn’t want to care, it’s that I actually *couldn’t*

But when I lost my friend, something clicked. I realized I actually cared about something – the people in my life. And at the wake/funeral, I realized that if I were to die, maybe people would grieve for me too and having felt that pain – the first thing I truly felt in ages – I did not want to inflict it on anyone else, especially not the people I cared about.

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becoming a 25-year-old widow

This post may be triggering for its mention and description of cancer, death, depression, and grief! Names have been changed for the purpose of anonymity.

Mark’s been dead for 3 years and 2 months. He just pops in and out of my head all the time, but I don’t often think of him actively. I can tell I’m still traumatized by the whole thing because if I’m having a bad day I will often go to blaming Mark for dying and fucking everything up.

Mark died and I found someone better suited for me. That makes me sad still. I wish we just broke up instead of him having to die for me to learn all this, you know? I’m so much happier with Michael, that was hard to swallow. I love him so much in such a healthy way, and he’s supportive and understanding and just fucking great. Neither of us are perfect, but we’re honest with ourselves and each other and we make a wonderful team.

I don’t feel guilt anymore, it’s the natural order of things to find someone else…man I was a 25 year old widow.


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