Severe Depression & Suicidal Thoughts
A few months ago I wanted to die. Or at least I thought I did.
It’s easy to remember it differently now. To swear I never would have honestly wanted to, because I don’t now. To tell myself I never actually would have done it, because I wouldn’t now. To minimize the thoughts I had, because they’re all gone now.
Deep down, I always loved myself. I don’t know if that’s true, but I want it to be, so I pretend is. But then, maybe that’s part of the problem. Maybe that’s why I’ve landed back in that toxic place so many times, because I pretend. Or maybe it’s because I think like that. Or maybe it’s because I think too much. Or maybe it’s just who I am.
The people who love you want to know you. Or at least they think they do.
It’s easy to think you know someone. To think you know what is actually going on inside a persons head. To always assume that the people you love feel the same way as you. To expect the smile on someone’s face to always be genuine.
Deep down, you love them. Sometimes you forget to tell them, but you always mean to. You fight, say things you don’t mean. But it’s okay. It’s not until that one shocking moment you realize it’s not. That moment when they tell you something you don’t understand, so you can’t believe them. But, maybe, that’s the problem.
I wasn’t eating. I wasn’t sleeping. I was leaving my house in the middle of the night and writing letters to the people I love, because at the time, it felt like something I needed to do, even though I didn’t know why. I was sobbing in my car as I begged for it to stop at the top of my lungs.
“Stop. Please just stop. Please, I just need it to stop. I need it all to stop. I can’t do it.”
It wasn’t the first time I felt that way, or thought that way, or said that all out loud. But it was the first time I reached out to a person for help. I thought she would understand. I thought she would help. She loved me, so she wanted to know me.
I kept my eyes locked on the ground. I could make myself say it, just not while I was looking someone in the eye. Tears clogged my throat, but then I reminded myself she wanted to know, and that I didn’t want to be alone anymore, so I forced myself to speak. “I can’t do this anymore,” I said. “I feel so down that I want to die. I feel like I’m going insane. I can’t make it stop. I can never make it stop.”
Silence fell between us as the weight of my words hung in the air. My heart pounded in my chest. I raised my gaze to meet hers.
Her eyes were wide in disbelief. “But Aly, you can’t,” she said simply. “You have a good life.”
And the rest was a blur.
I could have buried that memory. Or at least I could have tried to.
Deep down, I know she loves me. She genuinely wanted to know. To help. To understand. But she couldn’t, and that wasn’t the problem.
The people you love will tell you things you never would have expected. Things you can’t fix. Things you can’t understand. Because you can’t fix them, and you can’t always understand them, because sometimes, people just are the way they are and it has nothing to do with you or what you give them.
But that’s okay. Because you don’t have to understand. You just need to believe them.
And that’s what might help the problem.