Being punctual is not a characteristic of
Depression. Unexplained and torturing thoughts make an appearance at
inopportune times. That’s my biggest dilemma with battling this Depression. No
warning signs. Nothing to give me fair warning that negative thoughts are
coming.
I didn’t know where to go with this Blog entry, so I
felt my recent ‘bad day’ was a good place to start. This ‘bad day’ happened Sunday,
June 5, 2016- that’s right, two days ago. I stayed in bed until 8:30 pm. I didn’t
get up at all. The following is what I wrote the night before.
How many suicidal thoughts can one have before they
act upon the urges? Some thoughts are controllable. Some aren’t. I mean, how
many times a day does a person have to talk themselves out of suicide? I
literally drive down the road visualizing my own death by making a sharp juke
right with the steering wheel. I have to verbally speak to myself, “T.J., don’t
drive your car into that ditch or lake.” Pretty messed up eh? I know. I live
it. But I am getting help for it. There is only one certainty with Depression
and that’s the uncertainty.
At first, I thought suicide was about getting rid of
me because I am a weight on everyone in my life. I know that to be not true.
But suicide to me now is pure despise with myself. As I write these words, I
hear a voice say, “T.J., you’re a piece of shit not worthy to breathe the air
around you.” Maybe I am a waste of space that is taking someone else’s oxygen.
I am around friends and family, but to me, I am the loneliest man on Earth.
I do things in the day that ‘distract’ or ‘occupy’
my mind. The problem with Depression is, it is still with me. I try to slow
down things. Sometimes I can’t. My mind races. My heart pumps. Questions with
no answers. I am not a stupid man. I know what these thoughts are doing to me.
I am well aware that they are there. I feel like I have come a long way, but
then these moments happen. I have lost the fear in things that I used to fear.
Why? Because, I am not afraid of dying anymore. I tend to be obsessed with
death at times. Do I write my will now just in case I break and self-destruct?
Then again, I have no worthy possessions in my life. I feel sad, worthless, and
useless. Why? I wish I knew. I really do. Even if it is an answer I don’t want
to hear. I would be happy that one of my difficult questions would be answered.
Not too long ago, well over the past ten years or
so, I always had a weird thought, and maybe others have had it too. I always
thought of packing a few survival items and just go live in the forest
somewhere that no one can ever find me. Free of everything. No connection to
anyone or anything. Just me and the wilderness, and my intruding thoughts. This
is not just a one-time thought. Like I said, several times in the past ten
years. That multiplies quickly.
Another disturbed fantasy I would have consisted of
me living in Nowheretown, USA. Just far away and almost like starting a new
life. It wouldn’t be a new life- it would be me running away from my problems.
I wonder if these thoughts scare people. Should it scare me? They don’t scare
me. Not anymore. Not much does scare me anymore. I do not have a fear of dying.
My complexity is this; I don’t fear dying, but yet
my thoughts are haunting. I can’t sleep without my medication. Around me, the
nights are quiet, but my mind is noisy. I can’t close my eyes- I see too many
bad things with them closed. Images of terrible thoughts. My own personal
horror film. Ever think about being buried alive? I do. Is that normal? I don’t
have one sweet clue what normal is supposed to be. Call me fucked up. I don’t
care. It’s my life. My struggle.
Tonight is a struggle. A fight. A battle. I am
taking some hard hits tonight. Most of my body and mind wants to stay down
tonight. Not get up and keep fighting. Stay down for good. Never to think
anymore or move again. It would take away the pain, maybe. Or does Depression
exist in the afterlife? Knowing my luck, it probably does. Still eating away at
my soul somehow. It’s like a parasite has burrowed into my skull and destroying
anything good. 99% of me is really suffering tonight. It is very hard. It is
very scary. I keep telling myself that I am not crazy. I am not weak. I am
sick, and it sucks.
There is that other 1% that isn’t suffering. It is
fighting. Well, at least it seems to be. 99% of me want to pack it in and quit.
There is an easy way to fix this problem. An easy answer to this dilemma. There
is an easy way out. I have the resources to end my life at hand. I could make a
decision right now and end my life within the next five minutes. That is
reality. My reality. Who is going to stop me? Not a soul.
Sometimes I wonder why I take the time to write word
after word, page after page. Maybe I am just spit-balling a bunch of the same
words onto these pages. Making no sense at all. But you cannot make up these
thoughts I encounter. This is real. A true, real life saga. The ending maybe a
sad one, but I can’t seem to shake that 1% of hope that is keeping my story
going. Telling me to hold on.
Nothing bad happened today. Yet, I feel suicidal
thoughts. Luckily, I don’t have bad dreams. My nightmares occur in the daytime with
my eyes opened. But as bad as today and tonight has been, the 1% is still
battling. Not sure if that 1% is coming from my heart, my mind, or my big toe-
but it is telling me to be courageous and keep fighting. 99% of me may be
losing tonight, but that 1% is stronger and not giving up. And like my negative
thoughts, this 1% of fight in me is not going away.
Really, the 1% is not
letting me down and saving my life. It may seem like a small number, but it’s
not letting me down. It’s quality over quantity. There is more hope,
inspiration, and strength in that 1% than there is negativity, despair, and
sickness in the other 99%. It’s an ongoing war. The struggle is real. I feel
the mental pain and agony. I must withstand.
Goodnight.
June 5, 2016
This is what I did today-slept. I slept the day
away. Why? I wish I had an answer. I didn’t want to deal with the world. It’s
not like I had a lot to do or anything- I couldn’t deal with anything. I don’t
have the slightest clue to as why I didn’t get out of my bed today. It felt
like a hangover. Of course it wasn’t since I don’t drink anymore. It is
unexplainable to me, so explaining to someone else- yeah, good luck.
I missed phone calls and messages. All from friends
and family, but for some internal reasoning that I cannot explain, I didn’t
reply to anyone. I have written over 300 pages since January, and I still don’t
have an answer to why I have the thoughts and feelings I do.
“Only
a man who knows what it is like to be defeated can reach down to the bottom of
his soul and come up with the extra ounce of power it takes to win when the
match is even.”
- Muhammad Ali
Yours Truly,
T.J. Smith
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