Is There Really A Way Out?
- by Sofia Blue
- Jun 7, 2017
- 3 min read
NOTE:
If you are not in a good place and don't feel well, don't read this post - it might bring you down.
I have been suffering from depression all my life. First time I remember thinking about suicide I was 8. I remember it so clearly - I was alone at home, as my parents were at work and my sister at school. I remember this sudden feeling of unbearable sadness that hit me so hard I couldn’t move. Then I thought - what’s the point, and felt this urge to jump from the terrace.
When I was a teenager I suffered so much… I had these crises where I would either be super active or completely unable to function for weeks. There were constant fights in my family and I grew up in a pretty though place for a child. Back then I didn’t know what was wrong with me but I knew something was terribly wrong. I think it never daunted on my parents I could be suffering from depression, even though, looking back I realized all the women in my family have suffered from it. They didn’t know it because society didn’t accept the existence of such a thing as mental illness.
Now I know I am bipolar, I have borderline personality disorder and major depression, I suffer from anxiety, and panic attacks, together with dysthymia (chronic depression). What a cocktail of bullshit, ah?! Is it my genes, is it where I grew up, is it what happened to me in my life? It’s all of it and maybe more… Sometimes it is impossible to go through the day. Sometimes it feels alright… until sunset comes. I have this thing where almost every day when the sun comes down I start feeling like I’m sinking and drowning in my thoughts, fears, feelings and guilt. No matter how good the day was, when it gets dark my mind goes to war. I hear all these voices telling me it will never get better, I will always be miserable, and worst of all - I will transfer it to my children. I’m so scared of this, especially now that we’re planning to get pregnant soon!
In search for answers, I spent some time today looking for good articles on inheriting depression, as well as coping with it. One article, two articles, three, five, ten, and I am already convinced I can’t escape. I can only learn how to cope with it. But that is not enough! It is not enough to learn how to manage it… No matter how many times I try, I always fail. At times I am able to keep myself occupied and try to be positive. I just started an oil painting course as a strategy to express my feelings through art and hopefully reduce their burden on my soul. But irrespective of what I achieve, it all comes down crashing and breaking me in half again and again. Why believe then that there is a way out? Maybe there isn’t. Maybe it is my cross to carry in this life. But how do I live with this idea? How do I get motivated to get better when I know it will all be in vain. Yeah, I know - what I’m saying sounds like “why eat when you’ll get hungry again”. I know you can argue that having one good day is better than not having any. But probably you’re not suffering from depression. For me thinking this way is like saying “my dog usually shits on my bed but not today”. That is not improvement, that is an exception. And forgive me for sounding so cynical but I have been on treatment for 6 years now, and I see no improvement. Just temporary beams of light in a very dark place. So why should I be wishful-thinking? Hope is undiscovered disappointment. I could hope tomorrow will be better but what’s the use if I want to die today?
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