Not Giving In and the Devil

"Temptation is the devil looking through the keyhole. Yielding is opening the door and inviting him in."

                                    - Billy Sunday

I don't have a hidden agenda. There are no motives to my writing. I don't plan my writing. When incredible feelings or thoughts come about, I write. Writing is like talking to someone, but there is no judgement. Just a listening ear. The blank pages hear me. They feel me. They understand me. There is no feedback. Just understanding. I am not looking for answers to my questions. My questions are tough. Difficult to answer. I just like asking them. I can ask anything. The hardest questions. There are no real answers. But I am learning more about myself. A lot of people praise me on my writing. My reply is always the same; I let my feelings do the writing now. Before I would 'think' about what to write so it would be what people want to hear. Now, I am opened to express my feelings. It feels great to be honest and real. It feels great to feel. People may not like my honesty, but I do.

Everyone has seen cartoons where a character has a devil and an angel appear on their shoulder. The angel usually advising to do the good thing. The devil telling the character to act upon the bad. Well, Depression is sort of like that, but instead of the angel, there are two devils. No angels. The only angels I can think of are the ones from heaven. Don't think there is a place for me there. Those devils on my shoulders keep whispering to me. "Hey T.J., you're worthless. Go kill yourself." I turn to my left shoulder. "He's right you know. You are not needed in this life." That's just the beginning. That sad thing is; that's not the worst. How much darker were they? Dark. No light. No sound. Nothing. Depression is the loneliest feeling in the world and guess what? I can't feel it. I can only think about it. The thoughts tell me I am lonely. It's like a party in my head. Only guest are monsters, demons, and devils. No light. Voices. Plural. I hear more than one voice. It's my own. Different tones. I actually catch myself sometimes saying aloud some of the thoughts. I write the others. Some thoughts I cannot even begin to process. If I was able to take you there through my words, I wouldn't. You wouldn't be able to handle it. I am not sure if there is a devil in the biblical sense. But there is most definitely a devil in my head. He has no form, but a voice. I am scared of that voice. He tempts me. He controls me. Like a puppeteer. That devil has the strings to my life. He is trying to put on a show where there is only a final act. The end.

I used to think I couldn't tell people that. Would appear I am crazy. Depression is scary. The ideas and thoughts that come are insidious. My feelings weren't there until I spoke about my illness. There were no feelings. Nothing. Numbness to my bones. Head to toe. Death looked to be the best option. What's the difference right? I am already numb to life. Being dead would kill the devil in my head. One can only hope. Would the voices stop? One can only hope. What if the voices don't? That would be a new level of hell. I mean, it can't get worst, can it? One can only hope not. The only hope a person suffering from Depression is the hope death silences the voices. Is death the devil's kryptonite? One can only hope. That's Depression.

When you look at death, you do not see a face. He doesn't have any facial attributes. I know he isn't pretty. I don't see an ugly image. I see it for what death is- lifeless. People are scared of what they do not understand. That's why a lot of us fear death. What happens when we die? There are opinions out there of what happens when we die. Heaven, if you believe in that.  A reincarnation, if that's your faith. No one is wrong or right, in my opinion, and that is a respect I have for people's faiths. One thing that, regardless of faith, it is certain, death will find us all. They say it is a part of 'life'. I believe that is incorrect. Life is beautiful and amazing and exciting and so much fun. Death, is lifeless. Life is worth fighting for.

So what's our purpose in life? Too make money and get rich? To have material things? Status in society? I have often wonder, what is this all about? Is it an means to an end? I have yet to have a conversation with someone in the afterlife. You know what is fucked up? I would love the opportunity to sit down with a ghost and have a conversation. I am not scared of ghost. They can't tie a noose. I can. You may be thinking this, "You're crazy T.J.!" Be careful with the selection of your words. I am not crazy. I just have some very dark thoughts. I am not afraid to share them. So I am going to stick with what I know.

This is what I know. As dark as my thoughts can be. As loud as the voices can speak. As dangerous and twisted my mind can be. I am not going to commit suicide. That's the easy way out. The true character of a man is shown during times of adversity. My adversity? My illness. My strength? Hope. Love. Family. Friends. Strangers. As lonesome my thoughts can make me, I feel the support of many people. Giving in to this illness is not an option. It was before. Not anymore.

I have learned to live in the now. Not worry about what happened. Can't change it. Only learn from it. And not to fret about the future. Focusing on the right now moment. Many people have told me the last few days and weeks I have inspired them or their child or their family member or a friend. The amount of messages is amazing. The support is incredible. Telling me to keep fighting and I give them strength. Well, friends, family, and strangers, I must express my gratitude. Your words have kept me going strong. This is our fight. It's an ongoing war, with many battles.

I got a message from one person. Told me I inspired his 13 year old. Imagine, a 13 year old, going through maybe their toughest years of their life. So much life to live. Just becoming a teenager. That person and his or hers family will remain nameless, but I feel I must tell you, publicly, you young person, have given me a purpose and you are my hero. You truly are. You give me so much strength. When I am having a bad day, I think of you and your strength and courage. I have yet to meet you, but you are the strongest young person I know. You are an inspiration to me, and because of you, I decided I am not letting this disease defeat me. We, together, are going to defeat it. Together we are strong. I am here for you. And you for I.

Another young person has began to share their feelings with me through writing. Again, a young person with so much life to live. The strength you have is amazing. You are an inspiration. A breath of fresh air. You know who you are. We will continue to share our feelings. It really helps expressing your thoughts and feelings.

Am I cured? No. Not sure what cured will feel like. I have never felt normal. What is normal? I am unique. Not normal. I use a scale from 1-10 to rate how I feel each day. Michael Landsberg calls it the Sickter Scale. The best I have reached was a 6. The lowest a 2. Most days I feel like a 4 or 5. Is '6' the best I will feel? I Don't know. Are they 'bearable'? Yeah, but I don't want to have to 'bear' life, do I? Tolerate life? No. I can't do that. I got to live life. Find the joy. Find the happiness. Will happiness find me? There is only one way to find out. Go find it myself!

Yours Truly, 

T.J. Smith