Cry, Heart, but do not Break

It has been such a heavy year. We opened the year mourning the loss of some of our entertainment greats, who all mostly died at the young age of 60-something. Then I had a fall that turned into a freak accident in which my left hand smashed a nearby vase and sliced my nerve and artery which required microsurgery to fix.

Soon after I got my heart broken by my partner who was crumbling from the stress of the other parts of his life. I was left questioning the value of our relationship and whether staying or going would be the right thing.

Then I had a personal crisis of my own which had me questioning: my identity, my self-worth, my work, my very existence.

In between all that, my ex-mother-in-law passed away suddenly. That shook the entire family, and while I wasn’t close to her, I’ve always had the deepest respect for her for the woman she was – she loved my child, her granddaughter, with all her heart and more; she loved her family and protected them and looked after them fiercely; she was a really good woman. Two weeks after her passing, her older brother passed away from a long-standing illness.

My dog collapsed, wasn’t eating and looked like he was going through his final hour. We realised after all the blood tests, that he was depressed. My ex-mother-in-law’s lack of presence was clearly felt through the household.

When I was 21, I attempted suicide. I was going through a lot of emotional pain, that my heart literally, physically ached. I questioned the value of life if we had to go so much pain, and I didn’t want anymore of it if that was what life was about. This year, feels like the very reason why I wanted to sleep forever – the pain.

I sometimes feel like a coward for wanting to escape heartbreak and the associated pain. I don’t know why, it’s particularly unbearable.

I miss spending quiet moments with myself, deep in my thoughts, without having to worry about time, appointments and responsibilities.

I miss reading, crafting, writing, designing, coding, in my own time, without having to worry about deadlines that require budgets, presentations, schedules, contracts and client management.

I miss me.

The Cry for Help

My sister’s friend’s friend committed suicide yesterday. Prior to his death, the young man in his very early 20s, was sharing in the group chat his farewell messages, what to say to his mum after he is gone, and talked about ways to die. The other chaps thought he was joking and responded by offering other methods to kill himself. The young man hung himself.

Needless to say, the other chaps are shocked and traumatised at the turn of events.

All too often, people miss the signs of depression. Because it is an ‘invisible’ illness/ailment/condition, we cannot see when someone is hurting.

As a rule of thumb, never take it lightly when someone talks about wanting to kill themselves. It is never a joke. A happy person who is not depressed will not talk about such dark and morbid stuff because it will not be on his mind.

I have a history of depression. I have not been depressed all my life. There have been periods of basking in a warm glow, happy thoughts, a spring in my step, and just a general feeling of being on top of the world. But there also have been times when I struggle to get out of bed because I’d wake up feeling like a truck has run me over, or my heart pounding in my chest, or the confusion and fear of not knowing what tomorrow will bring.

So I can tell you: when I was happy, there was nothing in the world that could stop me and it felt that I could do anything. Nothing was impossible. But when the dark clouds take over my heart and mind, I go to bed wishing that I never have to wake up the next day.

When someone is hurting, when someone talks about life being worthless, it is NEVER a joke.

It is a cry for help.