About a week ago, I had a severe depression spell. My depression comes on in waves, and sometimes it feels like oceanic storms. The waves just never ending, coming and coming and coming. With never ending days, and nights that bring on my loneliness even more. I am alone a lot, and honestly I thought it would help. I could think things through. But no, the silence allows the waves to bring on scary times.
It's been years since I've had a time like this. Every day my moon man goes to work at 4 in the morning. He does it all the time, even if he is sick. Sometimes I can't pull myself off the couch. I can't even be bothered to bathe, I give the space monkeys anything to have them distracted from the fear on my face. They never know, but my week is this.
Well to speed this along I will just tell you what happened. I woke up in a sweat, I was frantic and there was no reason. I kept thinking about how maybe the better idea is that I should be dead. (Clearly I am alive, and ok.) The moment came, and on my bathroom counter was a very clear way to end it all. But long before all this, my mind used to be different. Before depression took hold, I had a completely different mind set on suicide. I thought it was selfish. I thought I was wrong. But it's true. Suicide doesn't end the pain, it just transfers it to someone else. What if the monkeys found me, or Space Man. How could I put them through that? Who the fuck am I to do that to them? So I stopped looking at the counter, that was the hardest part. Stop looking, stop fucking looking. I went and turned on the water for the shower, and then looked at the counter. Walked over to the counter, touched everything I could use to end it all. Then got into the shower. I kept peeking through the curtain at the counter, I kept staring at everything and then I just sat under the water. I went through everything in my mind, I searched and searched and searched for the right thing to do. Every scenario, every possibility, yes even the ones where I died. But instead I just cried, for the first time in years, I didn't fight the sadness I just felt it. Allowing the sadness I would create for others, to come into my mind. I washed and called for help. I called a suicide prevention hotline, sorry I texted. I texted a hotline, and someone talked me down. I didn't tell them I was thinking of ending, I just spilled all my problems. Everything I was sad about, and everything that was causing this or at least what I thought was causing this. She was kind and listened and has since started checking on me every so often. But we spent sometime, discussing what to do and how to seek help.
I wish I could remember her name, I will ask soon. But seriously thanks to her, I was OK. That night I came clean to moon man, told him about those dark thoughts. The reason I don't sleep anymore, or come to bed. For months I have been sleeping on the couch. It wasn't his fault, and for months I've been telling him different reasons. But really, it's because I wake up in a panic. My fear is that I am gonna lose my boys. So I panic, that my youngest got out of the house, or they've stopped breathing. Or I wake up and they've never really existed in the first place. To have your whole heart walking around, outside of you is the single most overwhelming moment in the world. So this particular moment, I woke up at 2 am, and I went into their room. They were fine, and breathing, and seemed so content. Then the most irrational insane thought came into my head, what if I am hallucinating them.
Every so often, I have had this insane thought. Because of my mothers own, fears of people taking us away. I learned very quickly how to think on my feet, and make up excuses. When I had that thought, in school. I was afraid I was hallucinating the writing on my paper, I would ask someone if they could read my hand writing. Obviously everyone said they could, or couldn't only based on my handwriting. If they said no, I would ask if my hand writing was really THAT bad. They would tell me they couldn't read cursive. That was how I wrote normally, it just seems better to me. But after this brief weird interlude I would be done.
There is no sane way to ask if you're not hallucinating your children. There is no way to not seem crazy, or have someone question your mental state. So I instead went to the bathroom. I wanted to die, but instead I reached out.
Please do the same, this sad moment cannot last forever. Be it meds or drawing or writing or Mary Jane. Seek help. Since my beginning smoking pot on the regular, I did this. I changed my life. You can too, you can talk to someone. Please seek help, please talk to someone. I know it's scary, but death is too permanent. It can never be taken back. No matter what, please know someone cares.
About the Creator
Agent Moon
I'm 27 years old living on the east coast, married with two kids. While that doesn't sound sexy and exciting, it's the best I could've asked for. I married my best friend, and we have to of the most amazing children ever.
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