It's Darkest Before the Dawn

One of the primary reasons I decided that I needed to get help was because I having pretty intense thoughts of suicide.  I don't want to die.  I do still enjoy life for the most part.  But some part of me, some small, vicious and melancholy monster in me, keeps feeding my sub-conscious these incredibly negative and destructive thoughts. I know it crossed my mind in oh-so-brief flashes before, but the other week it got pretty intense.  
We were at the beach, and I stopped to sit for a bit.  Where I had stopped was at the top of a cliff over looking the ocean.  I sat and thought "I could just walk off that cliff.  Nothing would hurt anymore.  Nothing would cause me anymore pain.".  Then I got really frightened.  How could I even consider that? I couldn't do that to my husband, to my family, to my best friend. So, I worked up the courage to get help.  


After being on my new medication for a few days, I had an intense dream about ending it again.  This time I waited until everyone went to work and I gathered up all the medication in the house.  I wrote letters, I got showered and dressed.  I laid in my bed and took dozens of pills.  I went to sleep and no one found me for many hours and by then it was too late.  The worst bit of this dream was that I could not make it stop.  I woke up and was aware of what I was thinking but I couldn't make it stop.  I had to pinch myself and drag myself out of bed.  That was pretty terrifying.  It felt like this monster was winning.  I didn't know how to defeat it because I don't feel like I can discuss this with anyone.  Sure I can say I'm sad and I'm scared and I need help.  But to tell them  I've thought about ending my life? No.  That's too much for them.  My best friend lost her little brother two years ago to suicide.  I couldn't ask her to consider the agony of that again.


I went to visit my doctor today.  She's increased my dosage and arranged for me to meet with a councillor. I do think that will help me.  I just wish that it could be over already. That I didn't have to wait 12 months to be me again.  I'm trying to stay positive but with dreams like those, that becomes a struggle.  

Another Monday

Is it strange that I least look forward to the weekends? Everyone is home but I rarely want anything to do with them. It feels like they're invading on my space and I find myself feeling crowded and panicky. It's sad really. I spend the week feeling lonely and then when there are people I don't know what to do.

I woke up this morning deciding that I was going to do something useful with my day. I coloured my hair and gave myself bangs (whether that was a good decision or not, is yet to be determined). I watched a movie but I couldn't get myself to leave the house. I thought about it. A lot. I got dressed but I haven't done my make up. I argued with myself for a few hours and then I gave up. Clearly going outside is too hard today. Maybe I'll be able to go tomorrow.

I've been thinking about maybe doing some volunteer work so that I have some sort of commitment outside the house. It would be good to get out. Good to meet some other people. But it seems like that's going to be another one of those things I'll just think about for ages and never actually action.

Thinking about how sad my behaviour is makes me feel sad. I feel bad for this person I've become. How did she get this way? Has life really been so terrible? Do any of the disappointments, losses or choices really warrant this level of sad? Has she truly been such a failure? A little part of me likes to think no. Then the rest of me says yes. It's been too much.

Funny how I tend to go through this cycle of thought each Monday. It's not necessarily a dark day but its a low day. A rainy gray type of day, that just brings me down. How nice it would be for these days to be a rarity rather than the norm.

My first day

Yesterday I finally gathered enough courage to get help for my depression. I'd been trying to manage it on my own, not wanting to admit to others that I had an issue. That was the hardest part, when the doctor asked me what she could help me with. Saying "I need help managing depression" was the hardest thing I've had to say in a really long time. But, my doctor was really positive. She listened well to what was wrong and asked me many questions. I was as honest as I could be, and now we've started a plan to get me well again. I'm trying to stay positive and believe that I can get through, but I know that today I'm having a good day, so it's easy to be positive. If I'm having a bad day, a dark day as I think of them, then it's infinitely harder.

I've started medication and I'll be meeting with a counsellor in a week or so to start learning how to manage my disease. It's the second time I've been diagnosed with depression, but the first doctor was hands off, asked me no questions and just gave me medication with a years worth of refills. It was never addressed again.

So far, I haven't noticed much of a change. Then again, I only started the meds last night, so I wasn't really expecting anything. I know it will be a few weeks before things really change. I do feel a bit out of sorts. I can't really concentrate and I loose focus - I went to do the laundry and forgot to get the dirty clothes. Things that are only small, but rather unlike myself.

I know that I can beat this. I just have to remind myself of that on the dark days.