Climbing out of the well of depression:
I was broken—
I was not broken in the sense that I was not whole. No, I was broken in the sense that I was not complete, which is worse. Something was missing. Something was wrong with me but I couldn’t say what.
I was lost in the absence of a certain presence. I was lost as if I were missing an ingredient that would make me somewhat, “Normal,” like other people.
I remember a time when I was most broken. I was alone, sitting in the sad tragic silence like someone watching the world through a cluttered window from an empty bedroom.
I felt tired and gray, like an overcast sky that emphasized the long slow resignation of my depression, which was relentless, and left me to endure like the unending void of a bottomless hole.
This was me—
I saw this as unalterable and undeniable thing. To me, I was unexplainable and indefinable. I was broken, without faith, and without hope.
I as stuck and held captive to my own thoughts, to my regrets, my shame, and prisoner to my fears and to my fears of pain, rejection, self-rejection, and abandonment.
I felt like a hostage to my soul, which cried out like orphaned children with nothing else but their screams to keep them noticed.
I was broken but whole and yet I was only whole because I wholeheartedly believed that I was broken beyond repair.
I was trapped in a mindset and tapped in a life, which I never asked for, but yet, this was all I had
But what if all I had would never be enough?
I remember a day, tragic as ever, and I sat down to contemplate the truest form of resignation. There would be no coming back from something like this.
Eyes tearing, I shook my head in disbelief that my life had sunk this low.
Why me? Why do I have to feel this forsaken (Or forgotten?)
I wanted something to take this away from me. I needed something to relieve me of the burden of self. But how? As I saw it, there was only one option
There is no physical way to see emotional pain. There is no way to materialize this kind of internal chaos. This is why people harm themselves. They do this because at least this way; the pain they feel can make sense. A broken arm hurts like a broken arm. A cut feels like a cut and a bump on the head might hurt badly but at least the pain has some kind of definition. But heartache and depression doesn’t come with such descriptions. No, emotional wounds come without a visible definition. All we know is we are hurting and because we can’t see the pain, all we do is feel it and wonder how much more we will have to withstand.
At my bottom, I had no way to cover my losses. I was emotionally and soon to be financially bankrupt. All I wanted was a way to feel free. I wanted to rid me of myself and rid me of the antagonizing ideas that continued in my thoughts without rest.
At the worst time, I swore this would be the end of it, to which I sought to carry out this idea on my own, My plan was to euthanize me from my sins, to end the long arguments in my head, and to at last, stop the mental casualties from calculating in my brain.
There was no one that I could talk to; least of all, there was no one I could talk to that could possibly understand. I was ashamed and disgusted by my reflection.
I was broken.
I was alone.
And I was tired of literally everything.
In dark moments like this; it was hard to believe in redemption.
It was hard to have faith or hope because what is hope if my doubt always prevails? What if I fail? Or more accurately, what if I give it all that I have, only to find out that all that I have will never be good enough?
I was on my couch, alone, and contemplating the bloody aftermath of my exit. Of course, I realized there were some that would hurt because of my actions. As I saw it though, at least those people would heal.
In my eyes, I swore that I would never heal.
I’m not sure if I was touched by some sort of grace or if I underwent a spiritual awakening. All I know is I was hurt. I was at my bottom all I could was feel the pain.
I am not sure what happened.
All that I recall is I fell to my knees. I committed myself before God with my arms extended outward, my palms up as if to plea for mercy, and crying out loud as hard as I possibly could, I begged for someone to help me.
I screamed and before I surrendered myself to the final act; I decided to write a letter and describe my reasons for a sad departure.
More accurately, I replaced my thoughts with an action. I found myself typing a letter as hard as I could. My fingers were like knives that jabbed the keys. I wrote out my feelings, which in turn, gave me relief.
I let it all go without holding back.
I felt everything. I felt all of my secret losses and all of my mistakes and sins. I felt all of my insecurities and all of my imperfections.
I decided to separate me from my insane thoughts and as a result, I came to the two most powerful words in the English language.
I felt as though something had pierced the emotional boil that was welling up beneath my skull. This was a sore spot and raw to the touch; and with sadness like infected puss, once I exchanged my thoughts for action, the surface was punctured and I was able to find relief beneath my scalp.
My circumstances were unchangeable. My life was where it was. But no matter where I was, I just wanted everything to stop. I wanted to feel better. I wanted the threats to go away and more importantly, I want the internal whispers of my depression finally be quiet.
If you have felt this way before then you know this time of year is hard to get through. Even if all year is rough, if you have felt this way before then you understand what desperation is.
This means you understand what hopelessness is. This means you’ve felt that sad deprivation of life, as if for some reason, you were made to suffer, as if you were made to stay on the outside, to be odd or unfit, and as if all you could do was endure and withstand because above anything else, your life was not worth the effort it took to feel better.
If you have felt this way then you know that hope is a strange idea.
However, if you have felt this way then you know that all you ask for is to find some kind of relief. All you want to do is feel better.
I have news for you.
There is a way to feel better.
Although these feelings seem unending and the pressure that comes with them literally feels like you are going to die (or that you have to die) the truth is if you give it a moment, the mood can turn.
If you give this a moment and replace thought with action; if you do something to act as the antithesis to your downfall, truth is, you can find your way out of the well.
The problem here is faith.
The problem is you think you can’t do it.
So why bother?
Please, before you make this assumption, I would like to inspire you to think for a minute before you take that next step.
I would like to have you think of a long road with the sun coming up in the horizon. You are driving towards the sun now. I want you to think of a beautifully empty road that stretches somewhere in the Midwest.
The road is two lines with incremental yellow lines painted down the middle. This is a straight road with empty lands on either side. There is no pressure here, no resentment, no reason to fear, and no reason to hurt.
See yourself driving towards the horizon. Behind you in your rearview mirror are the sad tragedies of lost yesterdays. You are driving towards hope now.
The sun is coming up. The sky is quiet and the car you are in is your favorite —maybe it’s an old car that you always wished you had.
Define this picture. See it as clearly as you can see the things in front of you.
This is your dream . . .
See this as your hopeful sunrise and drive towards it. Do not look back. Do not go back. Just go forward because as you do, the farther you move away from your regrets, the further away your yesterday becomes.
I had this view in mind when I wanted to feel better.
I wanted to find my sunshine. I wanted to find my way.
Most of all, I wanted to feel whole again
I wanted to feel compete because had I followed through with my initial intention; I would have never had the accomplishments I have now.
With all my tenacity and as fierce as I could say the words, I said them aloud.
I said, “No more,” and I held on as tight as I could to the dream of me driving off into the sunrise.
I’m still here too, which at one point, the sound of my voice would have been different if I were to say it.
But now I say this with determination
I’m still here . . .
And I know there is a reason for this.
If you feel this way or no someone that does, find yourself that sunrise and once you have it, head towards it and don’t ever look back.
By any means necessary, find your way and say the words, “NO MORE!”
Trust me, you and the people who love you will be glad you did