Waking up...very slowly

It's been almost a year since my last post.

A year of things that happened that I really don't remember. Brain fog is a real thing. Sometimes at night I can't even remember what happened that morning my mind is so clouded, memories seem fuzzy, like a dream. Many of the things I associate with the past year I can't tell if it was real or not. But I'm still alive, still here to fight the good fight.

I've been pretty distant from most of my friends. After my granny died, I spiraled into a dark hole. I told everyone I was fine. I understood the circumstances. She was old and sick and had lived her life. She was ready to go back to our Heavenly home. I accepted that. At least, I thought i did. But every day weighed on my mind. A week later, a dear friend passed away from cancer. My heart ached for her family, for the beautiful person we all lost. my grief was unbearable.  A few weeks later, another friend. I couldn't breathe. It was all too quick. I began what I told myself I'd never do again. I started cutting my arms up again.

I knew it was wrong. I knew I shouldn't do it. But the release of endorphins and adrenaline felt so good to my mind that it momentarily distracted me from the emotional weight. It's almost like a drug, like that first sip of a diet coke, or coffee( I've never had coffee, but I'd assume it's the same. People are crazy about coffee), after months of not having one. The feelings just whoosh into your soul and make everything better. It's kind of...orgasmic, if you will. Cutting made everything feel better...until it didn't. Then I'd have to do it again.

The election came and went. Everyone was against everyone else so I took a break from social media.I began to believe that I wasn't needed in this world. I just wanted the madness in my mind to stop. I thought a lot about Robin Williams. When he died by suicide, it had hit me hard. Why didn't he ask for help? How could he be so sad to take his own life? Didn't anyone see behind his disguise?

That's when it hit me. And I knew why and understood completely. It wasn't sadness. It was madness in his mind. He wanted a break from it. He was tired. Fighting a mental battle is so hard and exhausting. And dragging other people into it brings guilt and shame. And as a fellow depression sufferer, I know how easily it is to hide it, mask it, call it something else.

The night I made the realization that I would actually be willing to end my life to rest my mind, I cried and prayed harder than I've ever prayed to be at peace and make it through the night. The next morning, I handed my hunting knife to my husband and showed him my arms and told him I was not okay.

It's pretty scary to actually re live it as I write it. I know the only reason I made it through was because loved ones in heaven were there to comfort me. Even now, I can sometimes hear them cheering me on, "you are strong. You can do this."

There are days where I believe I can and days I really think I'm failing. As long as I am not fighting the battle alone, I will make it. And I have more people rooting for me than I think. I'm starting to wake up, holding on to whatever I can remember about my days and weeks. I'm trying to focus on what's most important and staying busy so I don't stop to think about negative things. I will beat this, no matter how long it takes.