Sometimes the only way I can express myself is through a poem.

Alone and in the dark
On the cold and hardened ground
Tears of quiet sobbing
The world's only sound.

Breath catches in her chest
As she's trying not to scream
No sense is to be made
At what is happening.

The pounding in her head
The gasping chokes for air
The knot down in her stomach
The hands clenched in her hair.

And within her heart a shatter
Within her heart a tear
Within her heart a sadness
That nothing can repair.

Lying on the floor
Unable to go on
She cries the silent tears
Of heartbreak's lowly song.

Good Days

I think it's important to recognize and realize when you're having a good day. Good, I suppose, being a relative term. For example yesterday I had a "good" day. It wasn't good by any means. But it was the best day I've had in months. I did some hard things and was successful at them, and felt a sense of accomplishment when I was finished. That, for right now, I can consider a good day. But, I've also had good days in the literal sense. Days full of small gems, where I could genuinely smile and laugh, days where the black cloud of depression wasn't looming so close overhead. And I recognize those days as they happen. Even if those days are mere hours, or moments. They still happen, they're still there.

I had a therapist tell me one time that our good times and our good days help to buoy us through the hard times. They provide a cushion for our hard times to land on and help to make them perhaps not so difficult or painful. I've always kept that image in my mind. I can remember a good time even many years past that can provide a softer break to the fall. And that safe cushion has saved my life on more than one occasion.

Colleen always begins our sessions by asking what my successes were for the week. I hate answering that question. I feel like I am failing at life, so have an extremely difficult time coming up with successes. But we don't move on until we talk about things I have succeeded in during the week. Now as I know the question is coming, I am able to look for a success I can share with her. I can realize I do hard things every day, even if that's simply getting out of bed. That is a success! And it's something to be proud of.

Many years ago I had to keep a daily diary card of emotions I felt throughout the day. There were the usual emotions we think of when we think of depression: sadness, anger, envy, shame, etc. But there was also joy and love. Because it is just as important to recognize those emotions throughout your day as it is to recognize and focus on the negative.  Like having to name a weekly success, we can train our minds to notice when good things happen to us too.

Maybe not all days will be good. Maybe there's only an hour a day when your mind and your heart don't hurt as much. Realize that. Recognize that in that moment you feel content. Say it to yourself, out loud if you can. Life is so incredibly hard. I talked with someone yesterday and had to share what has been going on the last several months and during that time, as I was saying it all out loud, I realized and thought to myself wow, my life sucks. I have been through some incredibly difficult times recently no wonder I'm so depressed! But there I was, talking to a stranger and getting more help and doing scary things, but succeeding in that moment! And that was good. I did not feel good. But for a moment there was a break in the cloud and I could feel a cushion forming.

Keep going. You are succeeding. You take those curve balls life throws at you and you run. It is not easy. Nothing about this journey has been easy. But fight. Give it your all. You will win. And when you have those good moments, no matter how fleeting or how few and far between they are, take notice. You are not alone. And you are worth it.

Rock Bottom

"And so rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life." JK Rowling

Colleen: I know, and 100% understand, that you are done. You've heard of rock bottom.
Me: Yeah.
Colleen: I think you're there.
Me: Me too.
Colleen: The only way to go is up.

Something has to change. And it has to change now. That was the theme of our therapy session today. I've gotten worse the last several weeks; gone downhill fast. The self harm thoughts and actions, the suicidal ideations. I called the suicide hotline in tears Monday night. It was all I could do to keep from taking action to end my life. I was in so much pain. I was done. The depression had finally won. I'd fought so hard for so long and now there simply wasn't any fight left. In a last ditch effort I called.

And now here I sit. On the cold, stoney ground that is the bottom. The bottom of a deep, narrow pit. It's dark, it's damp. It smells of musk and old mildew. But it's there. It's firm. And I'm here. It feels like I'm alone, but I know I'm not. I can stand on this ground. I can see people above me on higher ground, reaching their hands down for me to hold onto. The walls are steep, the climb will be difficult. But there is light at the top. And there is no where to go but up.

And I feel empty. Drained. I feel fragile. But I'm not. I'm as strong as the stone beneath me. It will not be easy. I'm wary of the fights ahead. But after the downward spiral I couldn't control, after watching my life crumble around me, after feeling utterly hopeless and drained of all worth, after the monster of depression strangled my will to survive...

There is no where to go, but up.

...

I'm not sure I should have walked out of Kitsap Mental Health today, but I did. Colleen was very concerned. She talked to her supervisor; I had a Designated Mental Health Professional come in and talk to me. The DMHP said she thought I could be safe until Monday, when my next appointment with Colleen is. But ultimately she left it up to me. She would authorize a voluntary inpatient stay somewhere if I didn't think I could keep myself safe. I don't know if I made the right choice. But I walked out and drove home. Suicidal thoughts and urges running rampant through my head, through my body. My arm is cut significantly. I did it last night. I will do it again tonight. I need that release. It concerns me. I feel like it concerns me more than it concerns anyone else. I tried hard to convey how I felt to the DMHP, but she seemed to have her mind made up before she even came in to me. Nice enough lady, but I'm not ok. I left feeling surely I was going to harm myself almost immediately. I stopped at the food bank on the way home and got some bread. After eating a piece or two I felt a little better. I've hardly eaten anything all week. Just haven't been hungry.

I mourn for myself. Not in a selfish or narcissistic way, but a genuine mourning for a loss of life. For a life that never was, never will be. For right now, for a messy and hopeless situation. I mourn for having to choose daily between life and death. For a lack of love. I mourn for what was, when things were ok, and I was ok. It is not easy, deciding what will finally be enough. I have no fight left inside. And I'm scared.

So I walked out today. Time will tell if I made the right choice.