Joyeux Anniversaire
CW/TW: Depression, Self Harm, Suicidal Ideation.
Today is one of my favorite days of the year because it marks another year removed from one the darkest days of my life, if not the darkest outright. Two years ago today I sat in my bedroom writing a note apologizing to my friends and family and outlining what I wanted to give to those who mattered the most in my life. I was preparing to be kicked out of my home because I had allowed my depression to consume me whole and didn’t know where to turn. I had spent a significant portion of my life working in service of those who didn’t have someone to stand up for them and all of a sudden I felt more alone than I ever had.
A little background. For a little over 13 years I have worked in various forms of social work and social service. I began as a counselor at a day program for adults with severe mental illness and chemical addiction. I would then become also become a case manager, the cook and the recreation director. After 5 years I left to help run a free after school program, baseball/softball league and summer camp for inner city youth. In addition to running the day to day logistical operations, I also coached young women from ages 11 to 18. I did this for another 5 and a half years. In my last half year in youth work I got a department director who had a very different vision of how they wanted things run and at the end of my 6th summer I was fired.
I suddenly found myself rudderless and alone. I felt generally unwanted by the universe. I had spent the previous 10+ years of my life taking on the emotional baggage of my clients and peers and doing so with pride because I believed, and still believe, that helping out if you can is the most important role a person can play. Suddenly I felt as if I was told “Thanks for all you’ve done but, you’re not wanted here anymore”. I felt like a fool for believing that good deeds get appreciated (They do, sometimes just not audibly). I adopted a mantra of “Karma isn’t Real”. I pushed myself away from everyone and created a downward spiral where not only did I choose not to be around people, but also I created a circumstance where even if people wanted to be around me, it was unpleasant. A combination of foolish pride and lack of self-worth made me believe that there was no reason or use in asking for help because A.) I felt I should be able to figure this out as I had helped others figure out their issues and B.) I believed I wasn’t worth the time and effort.
I began unraveling and an alarming pace, drinking away my rent and bill money because I’d assumed I’d be dead by the time they came due, withdrawing from almost all social interaction and ignoring my mental and physical health in an effort to hasten my demise. I stopped cleaning up after myself and washing because I felt compelled to make physical self and my surroundings a clear indicator of how I felt inside. I’ve said this before and I’ll probably say it again, the only thing that prevented me from deliberately and finally killing myself was my cat, as silly as that may sound. I didn’t care about myself, I felt like I was a burden to my friends and family that we all eagerly wanted alleviated but my dumb, loving, cat needed to be cared for. If I was gone I couldn’t make sure that would happen, I couldn’t be sure the building wouldn’t just toss him and my stuff out on to the sidewalk when they discovered my body.
Fast forward about 10 months, I had begun seeing a therapist but didn’t reveal the depth of my depression, choosing to waste our sessions talking about daily minutiae because I had led myself to believe that if I could work through the problems of my loud neighbors or dumb open mic drama then everything else would be magically solved. All the while, trash accumulated, debt accumulated and I was living in abject filth and squalor.
This leads me to 2 years ago today. I had essentially written my will on a legal pad. I had planned to wait until late at night when I the people who lived downstairs from me had gone to bed and jump off my fire escape. As I wrote my farewell note I kept coming back to the phrase “I tried to hold on as hard as I could”. The more I read it, the more I knew it wasn’t entirely true. Sure I had tried to make some small efforts to combat depression but I hadn’t really addressed what it was that was going on, I hadn’t asked for any help and I was preparing to leave everyone I loved without feeling like I had really done all I could to combat this exact outcome. I came back inside, I burnt the note and the will and I started to tidy up a little. That night I fell asleep next to my cat, the only creature I felt like I had been truly honest and accepting with and the only creature who I felt truly accepted me.
The next day I called my parents and told them this. I asked them for help keeping me accountable to take the daily steps needed to help get myself in a better and safer mental state and they said they would. That evening I went to meet with my tenants association and told them how I’d tried to sabotage my life but that I was finally ready to take the steps necessary to put myself on a path to wellness. They were also willing to help (albeit with the caveat of 2 years probation, a lot of invasion of privacy and the threat of eviction if I backslid). I reached out to friends and told them what was happening and how I could use their help if it was something they were okay with doing and wouldn’t be too burdensome to them. I was honest with the medical and mental health professionals in my life for the first time in ages, if not ever.
Over the following months I spent a lot of my savings (and to be able to have any savings at all was a privilege that many aren’t lucky enough to have) on cleaning up my life and my physical living space. I sought help through therapy, medication and support groups (did you know they have 12 step groups for hoarders?). I took great care to make sure I was putting myself out in the world and engaging with friends, family and peers because I knew how dangerous feeling so lonely and abandoned could be.
I know when you feel your most depressed and alone, it can feel like nobody cares. I know what it feels like to be so lonely that it feels like ending things is the only real way out. I can’t tell anyone how they should feel. I can only assure them that no matter how much they’re hurting that there is someone out there, at least one person, who would be very sad if they disappeared off the Earth. If you need to talk to someone, if you need someone to tell you how much they care, if you need help finding a higher power that will give you the strength each day to fight to see the next, let me help you. There’s no reason to feel like there’s nothing to fight for. Even if it’s a dumb orange cat that you found in a Tucson alleyway, there’s always something, someone, who needs you around.
