That’s what someone told me when I started my vacation and announced that I’m on a speaking fast for a week. At the time I was in my pajamas in the middle of the day and was told to stay that way for the entire week (and be sure to wash my behind each day). The irony is that as soon as she said it I remembered the months of laying in the bed in the same sweats every day with no shower or teeth brushing occurring. She was right….a shower is the difference between a vacation and depression. Looking back, that has got to be a sad existence for a husband…trying to care for a depressed wife who stinks and cares not a bit about appearance or desirability.
As I not speak I’m working on not holding on to my past. Instead of thinking about what was done wrong and the downfall I need to embrace the future I want for myself and go get it.
But that’s part two of the lessons learned during silence. I’ll be back.
I don’t know if I keep in touch so well with people in real time that they don’t worry about me not blogging for months at a time or if y’all are just so trifling that you don’t notice when I’m missing. Nobody called Nancy Grace or Al Sharpton. Nobody reached out to the Peanut Gallery and asked if I was still alive. Not even an “Is this thing still on” email. Yeah I’m keeping my eyes on y’all.
Anyway. Homecoming was awesome and if you follow me on Facebook I’ll post my pictures there.
One of the highlights was spending time with sorors that I haven’t seen in double digit years and catching up. We sat down over wine and I told my story…all of my story. When I got to the part about considering suicide my line sister said I was selfish. But my other soror/friend said “You were at peace weren’t you?” I had never thought of it like that until she said it. But I was very much at peace. I wasn’t afraid of the oncoming train or what it would feel like as I laid on the tracks. I had paid up all the bills and I felt like my husband would be okay at that point without me. Hell he’d be better without me because he wouldn’t have me to worry about anymore. That mattered most to me. He would be okay and I wouldn’t be suffering anymore. People don’t get the chance to ask lost loved ones why but I know for me that not being here at all was such a better alternative than continuing to suffer.
Do I still contemplate killing myself? No.
Do I still suffer? Yes.
Is is still almost unbearable too but I keep telling myself that it will pass and I’ll be okay eventually.
Have I experienced the same sense of peace I did that day on the tracks?
Recently (as in the last 3 days) I’ve seen several pictures floating around Facebook of Will Smith and one of his most famous quotes.
If you’re absent during my struggle, don’t expect to be present during my success.
What do you hold on to when you can’t see the success at the end of the tunnel? That’s how I feel right now. I am stuck in a struggle. Not the same struggle. No the struggle is different than it was 2 years ago. But it’s still one hell of a struggle.
I think it was better to not know I was depressed. Knowing that this feeling has a name isn’t comforting. I’m not 100% convinced that this feels any better than wanting to lay in traffic and not understanding why. You see, I still have the desire to lay in traffic and just die. That much hasn’t changed.
Being depressed is physically painful. Thinking about all that is wrong in my life creates this wrenching pain in my soul that feels like teeth being pulled but it’s my heart instead of my mouth.
When I think back to when I was happy and attempt to replicate the steps I took to get there, it saddens me that 1) I’m not in that place in life and 2) I don’t know how to get it back.
I can’t sleep. I have dark circles under my eyes. I’m wound so tightly that my teeth and jaw constantly hurt from being clenched together. Every day there is this tightness in my head. The headaches I get daily are debilitating. I won’t fill the doctor’s prescription because there is a strong chance I’ll be motivated to do something unwise. there are days where I wake up scared because my face is drooping again. The dr still says it’s swelling. In essence, depression is killing me…and I’m letting it apparently.
In my low moments I feel like no one wants me.
My cousin and I recently had a discussion about a classmate who ended her life because of her husband’s infidelities, leaving behind their 9 year old son. If you know me then you know that The First Wives Club is one of my top 3 favorite movies of all time. Channing Tatum’s character jumped from her penthouse apartment after her husband left her for a younger woman. There have been many people who called our classmate selfish….others have said how could she do that to her poor son. You know what I keep thinking? I’m so upset that she feels like she didn’t have anyone to talk to! I have always believed that the people left behind are the selfish ones. Let’s think about it. YOU think she’s selfish because she made the decision to not continue living. YOU think she’s selfish for leaving you and them. Doesn’t that make YOU the selfish one for not considering what she was going through?