The One Big Lie

You lie to them all. Oh, not about everything, but definitely the one question; “Do you ever consider harming yourself - do you have suicidal thoughts?”

You shake your head and say no, perhaps you acknowledge your awareness that this is part of your condition. You say “The thought may have crossed my mind, but I dismissed it immediately. I don’t think I’ve ever seriously considered it.”

But that’s not true is it? You have considered it. You’ve researched different methods and gone as far as planning where to do it to cause the least mess and problems for others. Everything from sitting in bed, to the more fanciful trip to Cambodia for a final long holiday, then hands full of barbiturates on a beach. 

Maybe you’ve even updated any financials, such as a will, or made plans for your funeral to ensure you don’t put a burden on family.

In fact, you think about everyday - EVERY FUCKING DAY!!!!

That little voice in the dark fog of your depressed mind whispers, nudges - and sometimes shouts - “No one cares, no one would really miss you. Do it! Stop the pain and misery!

It reminds you why you feel so bad. “ Do you want to spend the rest of your life living this life? You’re getting too old to change - things are just going downhill. There’s no future in which things get better.”

And you believe it. You know - really know - deep in your heart, that it’s telling the truth. Despair rears its head again “What’s the point???” it cries. No answer seems to appear.

Sleep, that safe refuge from life, evades you - you toss and turn through the night, unable to get the peace and respite you so desperately need. So you start the new day exhausted and emotionally drained.

Alcohol offers a solution - drink enough and oblivion beckons. A night’s sleep offered. But not rest, Drunken sleep leaves you tired all day. But sleep still refuses to come. More alcohol at least allows a few, comatose, hours of mental silence. And so the cycle continues, exhaustion, drunken sleep, exhaustion. 

The other downside to the alcohol, is the emotional rawness it causes. Despair while sober is bad enough, but when drunk it becomes total hopelessness. That nasty little voice becomes a roar. “Get on with it, you pathetic wanker!”

You look around you, tears running down your face, as you try to find a rock to cling to. Anything to help you stay on the shores of the living, before this terrible dark wave washes you away and death embraces you.

If you’re lucky, you find something - perhaps a child, or loved one comes to mind. Someone you know will suffer greatly if you leave them this way. 

Perhaps you are alone, but find the will to live is still strong enough to beat back this desire for an end to the turmoil. You decide to live another day and see if you feel different tomorrow.

You carry on, you work with others to get better and you push that little voice back into a room in the depths of your mind. The voice almost silenced…

You slowly recover. 

Or perhaps you don’t…

Not everyone finds that rock to cling to. Some are so damaged by the mental anguish of their condition that they cannot find a way back from the edge. They may feel there is no option open to them - no ‘cure’, for want of a better word, that will ever enable them to see a way back. 

Perhaps they’ve lost everything; driven everyone away.

Because that’s the thing with this illness - it’s hateful, filled with anger. Anger that’s often directed at the people most vulnerable to it - those who love and care for you and who can’t understand why you have turned into such a horrible version of the person they love. You see all this and the guilt makes you feel even worse. The depression feeds itself on your misery.

It destroys you from within your mind. And you can’t run away from it - it’s you. 

Which is why some people come to the realisation; the only way to end this situation is to kill the problem.

So, they do. 

And depression claims another victory.