I vividly remember sitting in my room when I was 14 and wanting to no longer live. That’s as far as it went. I didn’t have a plan, but I felt every part of it. This wasn’t after an argument with parents or fall out with a friend. This was a random day with no preceding incident. I remember it felt “wrong” to think like that, as I had a pretty good life with a lot of incredible opportunity and privilege.

I stayed incredibly busy in high school and the monster seemed to stay away. Looking back, I always knew he was lurking somewhere, but it was like he was stuffed under the bed and wasn’t allowed to come to the surface, but I knew and he knew that he would be back one day.

He resurfaced here and there throughout my 20s and 30s. I’ve written about this in different diaries and journals over the years; some of my entries are shared below. There are words that come up again and again in my entries and still resonate with me: Uncontrollable, desolate, circling, damaged, brooding, treading water, isolated, storm, afraid.

---

Losing

I fear I’m losing.

Losing it all.

I put on such a great show.

No one knew how thin that thread was.

But now I sit in sadness.

Tears well up for everything and nothing.

I can’t handle one more horrible thought.

So I continue my isolation.

Chemically Altered

The desperation and loneliness of it all were completely unbearable. I wanted everyone to leave me alone, yet I wanted someone to care and never leave my side. After several go rounds with meds, I am once again chemically altered for the best. There’s beauty again and joy in being independent. It was the worst place I’ve ever been. And I never want to go back. 

Shattered

I just want to get in my car and drive until I can’t drive anymore. 

My life is shattered into a thousand pieces, and I’m trying to scoop them up and put them back into some sort of semblance. The stress has manifested into sleepless nights. I feel hazy, unfocused, emotional and worn out. I hear people at work say they’re tired. And I want to shake them and tell them that they have no idea.

A New Life

I want to tear everything apart.

I want to clear everything out of my apartment, put a fresh coat of paint on the wall and put everything back in a different spot.

I want cleanliness; no dust bunnies or dishes out of place. Clothes that get hung back up when they’re taken out of the closet and wash themselves.

I want a new haircut, hair color and a new life.

Normal

The doctor tested me for thyroid disease. 

I actually was praying for that. At least then there’d be a reason to be depressed. 

I have these completely ridiculous thoughts but they’re completely real. 

I want to take all my thoughts and throw them in a locked trunk never to be opened. 

I want to suck it up and have a “positive mental attitude” but I am drowning. 

I’m sick of crying, of being angry, sad and upset. 

I don’t want to see old friends, new friends, anyone, yet I want someone to notice me. 

I want to do great things, but most of all I want to be normal.

---

In my 30s, he was back with a vengeance. I was flooded with the same kind of thoughts I had when I was a teenager: What would the world be like if I wasn’t here. Who would care? How long would it take anyone to notice? Would the world be just the same? Except I had some more: What would it feel like to get hit by an oncoming semi truck or a train? Would I feel anything? I Cannot Do This Anymore.

I was so scared that I drove to my doctor’s office and called for an appointment.

That appointment changed the rest of my life. The PA I met with had tears in his eyes as I shared with him my experiences. To have a medical professional show me such empathy was a pivotal moment. He believed me. And he wanted to help me. He explained to me that unlike earlier times in my life, I am not someone who can cycle on and off meds. I needed to permanently be on an anti-depressant. I took his professional recommendation seriously and never looked back.

Being on medication consistently has been life-altering for me. With it, the monster has not only moved out from under the bed, he’s moved out of the house.

There are a variety of other things that have a positive impact on my mental health, like exercise, eating less carbs and sugars, journaling, meditation, therapy, and music to name a few. Perhaps I’ll do separate blog entries on each of these! But for me, even with integrating healthy decisions and lifestyle choices into my life, I am dependent on the right kind of medication.

It feels scary to write about depression. I don’t want to feel incapable or judged, and I don’t want sympathy. What I have come to find over the years, however, is that more people identify with stories about mental health than those who don’t. While all of our stories are unique, there are often times pieces or threads in some stories that we can identify with and that might help us in our individual journeys. The potential of helping someone who might identify with one piece is greater than the risk of potentially being judged or seen in an unfavorable light. Whether yours is a monster under your bed or some other clever idiom, it can be tamed. You Can Do This.