So I Kept Living

To Write Love On Her Arms just did this campaign for suicide survivors/prevention with the above title.  When you're in the midst of depression, suicide seems like a viable option.  Logically it isn't, but depression lies to you making you believe that suicide is the only way to stop the pain.

Yes, I have wanted to die and on my bad days, I sometimes wish that I had.  On my worst days, I would like my heart to give up because how can I take anymore sorrow.  The surprising thing is that you don't die of a broken heart.  So, when I saw this campaign, I thought why did I keep living.

I am still alive despite the days I would not like to be.  I have way too much debt, don't have a great job and might not even have a companion anymore.  You do start to heal slowly.  Sometimes at a glacial pace, but it happens.  My life hasn't gotten better...It's gotten different.  To be better is to improve on what was there before.  The truth is that what happened to me so completely changed me that there is no going back to what was there before.  Now I'm different.

Yes, I have gotten my cognitive abilities back, but I'm not super friendly and I'm not willing to forgive as easily as I had been.  There is a sadness still in my soul that creeps up at unexpected times.  I can't say the name, "Dan," without thinking about him and it still boils up a mix of anger, longing and self-loathing.  I don't believe in love as something that can bind forever.  I have abandonment issues and am insecure.  I don't believe that I will get a fairy tale ending.  There are days that I will always feel completely alone despite the knowledge of the contrary.

I don't have a positive outlook or feelings towards the future because how can anything get better?  I supported people through their darkest times, but I have not received that support in return.  So why am I still here?  I don't know.  I look at my goals list and while they are great goals, I sometimes think of them as stupid.  Perhaps, one day, I'll get everything I ever wanted.  I'll be a writer and make a decent living without debt.  I'll have a decent partnership where we can have a life together.  Though right now, those things do not seem like immediate possibilities.

I wish I could write that I kept on living because I have hope.  Hope can be a terrible thing.  As the sisterhood of Karn said, "Hope is a terrible thing on the scaffold."  I think post-trauma me has a very low threshold for disappointment.  That being said, it takes a few hours for me to reverse the feelings of despair.  I have a few good friends that help me see what I feel is real or if it's my depression.  It's still there and it might always be there.

With all that being said, I'm here.  I kept on living.  I have some vague plans for the next 6 months.  I don't plan further than that because my world was destroyed in 1 day.  So I kept on living because the Doctor reminded me of something:
Idris:  I've been looking for a word.  A big, complicated word, but so sad.  I've found it now.
Doctor: What word?
Idris:  Alive.  I'm alive.
Doctor:  Alive isn't sad.
Idris:  It's sad when it's over.
Even if I never live my dreams, life is always sad when it's over.  My time will come one day, but not yet.