WARNING: this blog post contains potentially triggering content regarding suicide. If you or a friend are struggling with a mental health crisis please visit: https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/talk-to-someone-now/
or call 1-800-273-8255
there’s going to be a tomorrow and you deserve to see it.
Monday night at around 11 PM I found myself sitting in my car, under a bridge, to the left of some train tracks and the canal. I’m depressed again. So overwhelmingly miserable. And with no obvious cause. Monday was a really bad night. I called my therapist and she talked me down enough to allow me to drive home and goto bed. It took thirty-seven minutes.
Without that thirty-seven minute phone call I’m not sure I would have survived that horrible night. I was screaming and crying into the phone and my therapist (Jazz) just kept asking what had changed, I had been doing so well. And I don’t know. Nothing changed other than school being over, and that’s a relief, so why am I like this? Why do I dread waking up in the morning? Why do I dread going to sleep? Jazz said it could be a neurotransmitter blip, it happens sometimes with no explanation. It could be the let down after the difficult semester I endured. It could be anything really but, none of the inquiries I have made about the cause have lessened the weight of this awful feeling. I’m weepy, I hate everything, I hate myself the most, and I just want it all to stop. I didn’t realize Monday night where I was until the middle of the call with Jazz. The fog of my depressive state cleared just enough to realize I had brought myself to a place of options. The bridge, the canal, the train. All ways I could have ended the suffering. And I brought myself to this place subconsciously. Each option readily available and yet, I didn’t want to. Although I long for relief, I realized I also long for a better life. I brought myself to this place with options to choose the fourth option, to live. It sounds dramatic, and that’s because it is, but I taught myself that no matter how strong the feelings are, I’m stronger. It doesn’t feel like it but, making the decision to drive home that night was a big win for me. And I couldn’t have done it without that thirty-seven minute phone call. It didn’t cure anything. It’s half past midnight on Thursday and I still am miserable, I still hate myself, I’m still longing for relief. But, I’m safe in my apartment. My subconscious isn’t trying to wake me anymore. I’m alive despite the bridge, the canal, and the train.
Sincerely,
Your Strong Female Lead
