This is something I wrote a few years ago. I am having a BAD day. Questioning my life. Questioning myself. Really just want to slip away in mindlessness and just not have to think for a while.
I got home from work and had the feeling "don't turn on the TV yet". Well, what do I do instead? Stare at the computer screen?
I started going through some of my photos. I was reminded of a few things. 1) I am pretty. 2) I am talented. 3)I have made it through a depression so bad that nonexistence seemed like a good idea.
So, if you want, here is something I wrote about that time. I will also remind myself: this is just but a moment. Things get better. I am doing better than I think I am.
I have tried to write this multiple times. I don’t know why
I can’t seem to find the right words for this. Maybe because I am trying too
hard to make this beautiful and smooth. But I am not those things. I am rough
around the edges and I use too many words to say small things. So here it goes,
just me, too many words and what not.
To start, I am bi-polar. Though I don’t like to use that
term since I feel like it is over used. I prefer manic depressive. Which seems
like a better description of what I go through anyways. And how do I say that I
have manic depression without seeming like that is ALL I am? If anyone ever
figures that out, please let me know.
So, I have depression that for the most part is moderated by
medication. Though those doesn’t always work fully. Or I don’t stay on them.
So all of this comes to the beginning of 2018. I was off my
medication. That is the only reason I can think that I got to the point I did.
So, 2018 I was turning 36. Not that momentous in and of itself. But some
background: my mom had her last baby (number 8) when she was 36. And for that
reason, I thought I should be married with 3 kids by the time I was 36. So,
here I was, almost 36, still single, without even a prospect for someone to
even date. I also had a 4 year degree that I had only really used to get jobs
that had absolutely nothing to do with my major. Which was Anthropology, emphasis
in Mesoamerican Archaeology.
I was working a job that I had loved, but had come to
dislike and only made me angry. I was so angry all of the time. I ended up
quitting after a cheesecake incident. Not that I actually quite right away. No,
that would take a few more months of trying to find someone to replace me. I
don’t regret quitting. Nor do I regret working there. I am still friends with
my old boss and it was a great learning experience for over 3 years.
So, there I found myself, end of February, beginning of
March (my birthday month), not wanting to exist. I am Christian, and believe in
the soul and the afterlife. But what I wanted was to not even be a spark of
anything. I just didn’t want to be.
So, I came up with a plan to die. I had a lot of thoughts
about this. I would make it look like an accident. I wasn’t going to leave a
suicide note. I had talked enough about wanting to be a tree when I died that I
knew my sister at least would make that possible.
I knew that there were suicide prevention websites. That
there were people who I could talk to. I didn’t want to. Because I didn’t want
to be stopped.
I remember thinking that happiness was a lie. That I didn’t
understand why people could say that they were happy since happiness was a lie.
I don’t know what happened, but the despair receded. It took
a while. Months of trying to find a new job, trying to start my own business
and that not happening, having my boss cut my last 4 weeks down to 2 through
text (which made me angry), and being unemployed for 4 weeks before I finally
found my feet again. It wasn’t until I had been working at a new job as a
pastry chef for a couple of months (something that I had NEVER thought I would
achieve, as I didn’t think I had what it took to be good enough to be called a
pastry chef) that I realized that I was happy.
I was smiling when I left work. I was enjoying what I was doing.
What I learned the most from this is that the depression
doesn’t last. The happiness doesn’t either, but I am not lost when I am not happy
anymore.
Things get better. I couldn’t see that or understand that a
year ago, when I was at the darkest moment in my entire life. Now I am able to
hold onto those moments that were great. I can remember that I HAVE done
amazing things, if only I think so.
I am about to turn 37. It took me until I was 31 before I
was doing what I really love, working as a cook in a professional kitchen. It
wasn’t until I was 33 when I started working in a bakery. It wasn’t until I was
36 before I realized that I could do things that I thought I never would be
able to. I went to England/Scotland recently: a dream I had given up on. I am
now applying to teach English in Korea; something I wanted to do when I
graduated from college but didn’t because I was waiting for something.
I didn’t finish my first (and so far only) novel until I was
34. I am now a self-published author. I have been working on the sequel for
over 5 years. I have hope of finishing it some time in the next year.
Things get better. You get better. If you leave now, what
are you not going to accomplish that you would have if you had waited? I am not
saying it was easy. It isn’t. Life is hard and it hurts. It is frustrating. But
it is also amazing. I found my faith again. I found my way back to my God, who
I know has a plan for me and loves me, even if I can’t feel it most of the
time.
Don’t give up. I see you.
