Dark Places

This weekend has been full of thoughts, some of them very dark, even for me.
And others full of color.
But mostly full of meaning.

    Articulating all of them is difficult, and I'm not sure if my overall attitude is positive or desperate - I'm a proper cynic, optimism doesn't come easily to me, but assuming I know what it feels like, I think that's how I feel, and I earned it through fighting depression and doubt.
I had help, though.

I feel okay about sharing this publicly. I could be mocked for it, but that's okay, because there are things I want to tell people that I hope can help someone.

    About six weeks ago, my depression came to a head. I think I wrote a blog post about it, but it's mostly incoherent groping for words in a flood of strong feelings. I'd like to say that I hope someone can relate, but at the same time, I'm not sure I want anyone else to feel that miserable, hopeless, desperate, and like you have the world on your shoulders and a black rock in your chest. I became so depressed that I made myself physically sick from it - yes, that can happen. Depression is also a neurological and chemical affliction and not just a psychological one - and after trying to vent online to my friends in a Skype chat about it for a while, I made the aforementioned post.

    I should note that the specific chat I vented in is full of people who are good friends to me. I might only know them online, but we have shared deep conversations - and very involved arguments - about things that make me feel like we both know each other and care about each other. There is a mutual air that we enjoy each other - well, mostly - and that I feel confident that they are concerned with me, which they have proven to me on multiple occasions.

    Unfortunately, that night was an exception.
A person who I have a lot of respect and admiration for said something in roughly four lines to make the entire thing worse. I don't blame this person, I think if they knew just how truly bad off I was, they wouldn't have said this thing to me. It probably didn't help that, in that state of thinking, my usual clear-cut sentences were jumbled into meaning nothing to others. But I need to bring this up to illustrate my point.

What did she say to me? Something along the lines of "Invite me back when you're done whining about not getting your way."

    I should note that I wasn't particularly upset about one thing as much as a bunch of things, and that I don't recall specifics about it but also don't remember being upset about something not going my way - quite the opposite, since an issue I've been dealing with since graduation was finding my own direction in society and giving other people something I feel truly passionate about. And even if this doesn't sound like something that would be particularly upsetting to someone, I've been told things like this all my life. My family finally came to understand the depths of my complicated issues, legitimately diagnosed or otherwise, several years ago, but that still left teachers, peers, and internet presences all treating any issue I had as shallow or "whining about nothing" and there are times in life when a person is really upset. Even if it is about something small, their feelings obviously are not. Because of my own struggles with these issues, I try never to tell someone else they're worried about nothing, or if someone is upset or sad, I want to sympathize with them in some way and let them know that it's okay to cry sometimes even over small things, because we all need the relief it brings.

    My reaction to the statement, paraphrased as I've made it, was not positive - it actually turned into the worst thing it could have. A negative remark became the catalyst for my dark thoughts to overwhelm me, and I was seriously considering ending everything in the fastest possible way.

    I was shaking ,and crying, and I do not even remember what pills I took that night, but they couldn't have been that strong because I got to five or six before getting a text. It was like I forgot I had a cellphone. (Damn good cellphone too, I've dropped it many times but it still works and the phone plan is cheap. Fuck yo smartphones) I checked my messages, and I saw it was one of my friends wondering where I was or if I went to bed.

    My resolve collapsed and I sat in the middle of the floor crying for a very different reason.
This was one of my couple friends who both contemplate suicide - probably my best friend, actually - I have encouraged them out of it before, assuring them that people do care about them, including me.
And I was about to do the same damn thing to them.
I could have even been the catalyst for them.

    I related this to my mother the other night. To my horror and relief she told me how broken she would be if I did that. I have always viewed myself as the useless daughter that grew up to do nothing with their life and mooched off of her food and bills, and when I told her this she became so angry, and I became so ashamed.

    The past six weeks have been heavy for me. I've come in and out of depression and I'm still being treated for it professionally - pills and therapy do help, I encourage anyone who hasn't looked at that as an option to consider it - but one thing has made it easier to cope with.
There are people who care about me, including them.

    My best friend pulled me out of a very dark place, my friends give me help and comfort when I need it and I try to do the same for them. We keep each other from falling into dark places, and we are all each other's light.

And they really do care about me.

    The people in our lives can be shoulders to lean on even when they are not physically there. Even when it seems illogical, genuine caring and friendship resonates with people even through the darkest places. Reach out to your friends and take their hands, regardless if you're the one pulling or they are.