feeling suicidal

I always figured that i’d die before my time, and that ultimately it would be me to take my own life. Even after I started getting help, I still took unnecessary risks that could have killed me and I still thought “what’s so bad about dying?”

Driving on a highway, I’d pass other cars with a very thin margin of error where, if the pass wasn’t completed successfully, there would be a pretty brutal car crash. I didn’t care – I almost DARED people to crash into me while i passed other cars. I was only thinking about my own life – “oh well, if i die, so what?” until I realized that my actions actually could impact other people.

I don’t drive recklessly anymore. I hate that I let myself get to that point.

You know, there’s nothing wrong with dying, but there’s nothing wrong with living either. Now I really don’t want to die by my own hand



adjusting to medication

The first week I didn’t feel much of anything, but things stopped feeling less hopeless. I was… overly optimistic about everything or almost uncaring, but in a positive way. Tather than “what’s the point” it became “what’s the point of worrying? Things will work out however they work out.”

I felt… light. Like a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. I remember walking around and feeling almost as if I was floating.

Eventually taking medication just became part of my daily routine, almost as unconscious as brushing my teeth. ┬áMy depression wasn’t as strong, and when it hit me, it didn’t last as long as it usually did. Eventually I started to feel normal, well aware that bad things happen and it’s okay to feel sad, disappointed, angry or just rotten about them – that’s just normal human emotion. But at the same time, I could finally just accept things and started to view my problems as surmountable. My failures did not mean I was a failure myself – just that I had unfortunate circumstances or had made a mistake. It wasn’t the end of the world, and I didn’t beat myself up for it.


getting better

This post may be triggering for its mention of mental health stigma.

I haven’t been struggling with mental illness in a while. I would say in the last 6 months I’ve had like under 5 bad days. I know that when I was in a bad state I would believe that someone who was winning the depression battle was an asshole and obviously not as depressed and fucked up as me. It gave me no solace at all knowing that there were other people hurting for the same reasons as me: grief is a deep dark place. I’ve never felt so out of control of myself as I did when I was in the thick of grieving Mark’s death. Now I am at the top of my game in life and so satisfied with almost every aspect of things. I know things will take a lull again in time, but I want to just ride this high and give life a shot as though I don’t have a mental illness. With the awareness I’m gaining and the medication doing the right work, it finally feels as though I really am actually healthy.