DAVID

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     I didn’t want to die; I just wanted the pain to end. It was an emotional pain so deep that it physically hurt and death seemed like the only viable way to make it stop. Death wasn’t the goal, just a means to an end. I searched for alternative ways out of the suffocating darkness, but every search was futile; every search had death as it’s logical conclusion. I use the word “logical” but it wasn’t a normal logic. My logic was distorted and biased by severe depression that was both physically and mentally debilitating. Looking back, I can’t even fathom it, which is weird because I am the one who experienced it. It was a depression so intense that now that I’m through it, I can’t remember it. I suspect this is my mind blocking it out as a defense mechanism to shield me from reliving the pain, and frankly I’m glad that I can’t reconnect to it. I’m told that after a woman gives birth or somebody finishes a marathon, they don’t remember the full extent of the pain from labor or the race. Having done neither, I will not comment on the veracity of the statement, but that’s the analogy which comes to mind, and I think most people should be able to relate to it. I slept a lot. I liked to sleep because when I was asleep, I was at peace. I would wake up and try to fall right back asleep to reclaim that peace but in reality, I was adding to the problem. The more I slept, the more I neglected basic responsibilities. This made me feel even more worthless, broken, and useless; all feelings that added to my depression. It was a crushing cycle of sleep, guilt, depression and then sleep. My family deserved better and I just couldn’t muster the energy to give them what they needed and deserved. That created another cycle piling on the pain. I failed them, felt guilty, experienced worse depression, failed even more and so on. In truth everything was a major effort and I felt like I was trying to move through molasses. Everything felt impossible, and if everything is impossible there is no hope. That is the part that is truly dangerous. The distorted belief that there is no hope. “I will always hurt like this, and I will bring continuously bring pain to those I love. It would be better for everyone if I were dead.”

     Go ahead, try to reason with me in this state and tell me people love me, that I would be missed, things will get better. Ask me whether I’ve thought about the pain I would cause by killing myself. Throw in some name calling and tell me I’m being selfish. Add in that I’m a coward for wanting to take the easy way out and don’t leave out the ever-practical advice to just snap out of it. If you think any of this helps you should know that it really doesn’t. It is the antithesis to helping and only drives me deeper into my crisis. I’ve thought of all those things and more and my conclusion hasn’t changed one iota. Of course, your failed attempts to fix me will only frustrate you, possibly make you angry or exasperated. I will definitely take this personally and add it to my justification that you will be better off without me, which will leave you frustrated all over again. You see, logic doesn’t apply here. In this distorted view of the world inside my head, I see the world as if it’s a reflection in a funhouse mirror stretched out or squeezed down but nothing looks like the reality as you see it. This is important so listen; no matter how much you love me, care about me, or want to, you can’t fix me. I need professional help. If you want to help me, that’s what I need if I’m going to have any hope of surviving. It doesn’t matter what brought me to that darkness. Everyone who suffers from depression has their own unique history. It’s personal and specific to the point that the circumstances which make me consider taking my own life, may be perceived as trivial to someone with a different set of circumstances. It’s not important that we agree or relate, it’s important to know each person’s pain is their own.

     My plan to ride full throttle into a brick wall on my motorcycle was replaced by a last minute

plea for help. The red brick wall seemed to call to me each day I rode to work, and each day the

temptation grew until the need to choose was imminent. Live or die, I couldn’t continue on

the same path. With tears in my eyes, I said to my wife, “Take me to the ER.”