So I've come to terms with my mental illness in a really short amount of time. I know that if my depression was a cancer, I would do anything in my power to get treated and healthy again, right? Right. I need to take the steps to be healthy again. Being depressed is like living in a small box. You never really go outside the box, because inside you know it's safe, slightly warm and controlled, environment wise.
Outside the box, well, outside the box is Hell.
Monsters in every ally and behind every tree. Giving you reason to give up and die. You never do anything you're supposed to do, and even if you do, it's wrong. You have no where to turn, no light to shine and banish the harsh dreams.
But you stay there anyways, because you know what to expect. It's "comfortable", but it's not healthy or a smart idea to stay there. Working to leave the blackened hell-hole is terrifying.
People with depression disorders are more likely to commit suicide, because falling back into that depression is the worst possible feeling for them. They never want to go back there.
There being hell.
It's easier to give up than to fight. Fighting takes so much more than you're willing or even capable of giving at times. This is where I'm at. But if you know who I am, you'll know I'm too damn stubborn to fall back into my hell.
Not everyone is that lucky. Not everyone has a support system like mine. I am blessed for my family and my professors and my friends for sticking with me.
Three weeks ago, I tried to kill myself because I was ashamed of my behavior and I was tired of being in hell. It seemed the only way out. My support system thought differently and I'm so thankful for that.
Death is never the answer. Ever.
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