When depression runs deep, it takes over your life with a vengeance.
It’s not always the only player in the game, either. Anxiety so often teams up with Depression. If you’re me, you’ve got some other Mental Entities hanging around, too. PTSD is a hard hitter.
The fact that I am able to write this indicates that I am healing. Which sure is a relief, because sometimes it’s difficult to see the progress. But I’ve never been more determined in my life, and I have been one stubborn gal. Otherwise, I can assure you, I would not be where I am now.
I would be dead: of that, I am certain.
I have been trying to kill myself for almost 20 years now. That’s no exaggeration, nor am I boasting – my first suicide attempt was at age 9.
But I’m still here! And I’m fighting.
I don’t have the zest for life that some people possess; it’s more like that saying, “hanging on by a thread”. I am constantly debating whether I should keep pushing.
For some reason, though, I have already survived some of the most ridiculous circumstances such as:
- falling off a cliff (which didn’t happen, but it was definitely a close call)
- getting stuck between the barriers on the railroad tracks (the train magically got stopped at the intersection right before mine)
- cervical cancer (thanks to my incredible and beautiful daughter being born in the nick of time…it was nothing short of a medical miracle)
Despite the fact that I have beaten the odds, I still really have a deep seated hatred for myself. I live as though I am trash. I can’t stand the person that I am when I’m suffering (which, let’s face it, is way too often). But…when I think about what I’ve worked through and the fact that I’m still here despite all sorts of crazy circumstances…I can’t help but think that there’s a reason. That there is some purpose I am here to fulfill.
So I keep pushing.
I am scared. I am vulnerable. I need all the help and support I can get, but…
…I will persevere. I will stumble. I will get back up and push even harder.