Depression
I found this piece of writing and thought it captured the thoughts & emotions of a depressed person quite well. Wanted to keep it here so I do not forget to be compasionate towards people with mental health issues.
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Have you ever thought of dying? Of suicide. Wanting suicide. I do not really believe that I will ever kill myself. Because of the fear of God, of taking a life that is not mine. And because of my family. Because I love them and know that I can do so much more for them alive. But it tears me apart, this sadness and desperation tears me apart. I contemplate running to the middle of the road when I see cars hurtling my way. I wonder what it would feel like to be hit by a car and flung down the street like a rag doll. My medical teaching worries me because it tells me that such thoughts mean there is a chance I may one day lose my mind and really kill myself. The sad thing is that even as I contemplate these various ways of dying I know that I would only be doing it for the attention. I want to be heard. I want someone to come and wrap me in a big hug and tell me that no matter how broken I am, he wouldn't give up on me or get tired of me. But the one person I talk to about these sorts of things, the deep stuff, I can barely really tell because I am afraid that unless I am happy he will not love me. Everybody wants to love happy people.
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Have you ever thought of dying? Of suicide. Wanting suicide. I do not really believe that I will ever kill myself. Because of the fear of God, of taking a life that is not mine. And because of my family. Because I love them and know that I can do so much more for them alive. But it tears me apart, this sadness and desperation tears me apart. I contemplate running to the middle of the road when I see cars hurtling my way. I wonder what it would feel like to be hit by a car and flung down the street like a rag doll. My medical teaching worries me because it tells me that such thoughts mean there is a chance I may one day lose my mind and really kill myself. The sad thing is that even as I contemplate these various ways of dying I know that I would only be doing it for the attention. I want to be heard. I want someone to come and wrap me in a big hug and tell me that no matter how broken I am, he wouldn't give up on me or get tired of me. But the one person I talk to about these sorts of things, the deep stuff, I can barely really tell because I am afraid that unless I am happy he will not love me. Everybody wants to love happy people.
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