“The bravest thing I ever did was continue my life when I wanted to die” –Juliette Lewis

I woke with a start, hands sweating and breath catching. The beginnings of a panic attack on the verge of showing its ugly face. I reached for you. There should have been a sunken pillow, bended knees, a warm smooth back, and a tangled mess of hair. Instead there was a fluffy pillow and a cold comforter.

Sheets crumpled between my fingers as my limbs search for one another. My chest burns and my face contorts but, I still find myself hoping. Nothing else in the world exists to me in this moment. There is only the emotional terror spreading through each millimeter of my mind. There is only fear, loss, sorrow, dread, and pain. I rock and shake and wail for so long that my brain shuts down. Not long after, my body must have followed.

Everyone around me seems to have been extra friendly lately. Maybe in a failed attempt to distract me. Halfway through the morning, customers are rolling in and I allow their kind smiles and encouraging words to lift my spirits. Suddenly I remember something other than my own sorrow and I latch onto it harder than before.

Truth is, I am stuck inside of myself. I need help. I want help.

I find life humorous. A mess. A contortion of moments all seemingly individual that somehow fit together. Like how the last sentences I typed were "I need help. I want help."

And then I pressed "save".

Isn't that quite funny? Like the universe is trying to tell me something. Perhaps a wakeup call. A sign to realize that not everything is so complicated. Not everything takes so much out of you. It is a one step process for me. I press save. Then someone somewhere else has come up with a way for it to save without as much trouble on my end. Maybe all I have to do is press that button in real life, wherever it is, and then I will be saved. I have to admit that I need it, want it. I put it out there and someone somewhere else has already thought of a way to save someone like me.

The universe. Two seemingly individual moments, come together.

Anxiety didn’t always control me. I used to go several months without a single episode and I would think, “must have just been hormones”. Sometimes it hides inside of you for so long you think you have won the battle. Once it reveals it’s coy self again, you chalk it up to stress. You don’t notice the way it changes everything about your life. Anxiety sometimes progresses into something even more terrifying. You begin to believe the ugly whispers of the monster inside of you. Your biggest fear is that eventually everyone will see you the way that you see yourself.

Sometimes depression doesn’t always hit at 2am when you are all alone. Sometimes it comes at 4pm on a Saturday night out with friends, mid laughter. Sometimes it is refusing to get out of bed because the room is spinning and you aren’t forming coherent thoughts, and “how could I just get up and pretend like I don’t hate myself?” Suddenly caring about anyone or anything other than opening your eyes seems like an impossible task.

People always wonder why “no one talks about it”.

Truth is… Depression does not speak your language.

Depression holds me close until I fall asleep. Sometimes he even follows me there. I don’t invite him in, but he has a key. How can I kill the monster, when the monster is ME?

People sometimes say, “They just want attention”.

And you know what? YOU’RE RIGHT! You told me to ask for help when I needed it but then I get chastised when I do exactly that? I am fighting a daily battle, and I will not apologize for trying to save myself. The rare moments that the monster lets me ask for help, I will scream as loud as I can.

Depression and Anxiety are REAL. They may make medicine and give referrals of someone to speak to… but the battle will never end. The monster does not die, we simply try to tame them. But sometimes they win.

1 (800) 273-8255

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org