I've seen a lot of discussion regarding the death of Robin Williams and on suicide.
Everyone has an opinion and most people have had an experience, either of losing someone, attempting it or knowing someone who has attempted it.
However not every one understands the reasons or the feeling of needing to end it all.
I'm going to share my own experiences with it. Nothing like getting something straight from the horse's mouth right.
First of all - as I am writing this you can tell I'm not dead. Yeay for me. I'm not dead yet!
And that's pretty darn cool.
More so because 10 months ago I was suicidal.
I did not want to die. It's important that you understand this. I did not, I do not want to die. I like living. I want to live until I'm 92 and then go out in my sleep quietly surrounded by my friends and family and we're all going to be in agreement that mine was a life well spent.
I cannot reiterate this enough. But still I was suicidal. As in my brain was telling my body to commit murder. Only it was murder of the self.
It was an urge so strong that I was terrified.
Imagine having something big and dark and wicked telling you that you're about to die. Imagine them making you feel like it's the only option you have. My brain had even allowed my body to feel what it would be like to take (and you need to understand how very very difficult to write this is. I am only doing this to try and explain it while I am in a very rational state of mind and am able to do so) to take a knife and cut my own throat. My brain tricked my body into thinking this would actually be painless.
My brain did this to me. I have depression. I have had depression since I was 8 years old. I understand it. I've had 25 years to understand it. And when my brain decides to do this I call it the Lemming Effect.
Because I understand this I am able to fight it.
But that urge has always been there. When I was a child I had crazy urges to throw myself under a car. I never did. As you can see. My rational me, my real me won out every time.
Depression is like having a growth in your head that whispers in your ear and tries to get you to undermine yourself. It's not the same as schizophrenia. It's not voices in your head. It's like an invisible cancer and you know it's an illness, no different from Asthma in the respect that most of the time you're fine, sometimes you have a little bout and then sometimes out of nowhere, BAM Massive Asthma attack, in hospital, going oh fuck what the fuck..
Most of the times you recognise it for what it is and you're able to take your inhaler and control it but sometimes you can't access it or the attack comes on suddenly.
That's what depression is like. Most of the time I am fine. Sometimes I can feel a bout coming on and I actively take time out to address the situation, spend time talking to my doctor, ensure I'm not drinking or doing anything that could make it worse or spiral downwards and keep myself surrounded by good people.
And I am lucky that I have many understanding, empathic people, with which I feel no need to explain how I'm feeling, just that I'm "off" and I'll be back to normal soon.
In October I had a big bad bout of BAM in your face, knock you off your feet, dreadful end of days depression.
At four o clock in the morning I still hadn't slept. I had tried everything, I was listening to meditative relaxing music and trying to relax but that monster cancerous depression was urging me to do something I DID NOT WANT TO DO.
I had a moment of clarity and called the number for the local crisis team that my Doctor had given me months ago. They sent someone out to me and with their help I could fight the illness. Successfully. Obviously. Because I'm writing this and I'm in a good enough place that I can be honest about it.
This is where I have to explain that this feeling is not a choice. My decision to make that important call that saved me from myself was only there because I had taken preventative steps before this bout to ensure that I had help available if needed. My doctor had given me numbers that I had stored in my phone. If I had not had my phone, if I had not put those steps in place before hand because I've been able to talk about my illness to my friends, family and my wonderful GP.. well. I might not be here.
That's the long and short of it.
I am here because I was able to get treatment early for my illness. I am here and I am grateful to be here. I am here because my illness is not as severe as some others.
I am here thanks to the intervention of other and because I was able to see the triggers.
Not everyone has access to that kind of medicine. And I cannot reiterate enough. I DID NOT CHOOSE TO FEEL LIKE THIS. In the same way someone with Asthma or Cancer does not choose to feel like they do
My life is good. There are problems sometimes but that is life. I like living. But my illness nearly killed me.
And for Robin Williams who publicly fought his illness and candidly spoke about it on many levels the physical urge won out. I hope I never get that bad.
The illness never goes away - but if we can talk more about it honestly, then more people can have a story like mine where they survive.
And you know what - the one good thing about depression is that when things have been so dark, coming back to normal and being able to really live becomes fucking brilliant.
And I am grateful everyday for my life.
Talk to people. Sometimes you don't even have to understand. Just empathise.
We're not cowards. We aren't selfish. We're ill.
And that's all it is. It's just an illness.
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