Silence

A woman I admire died today. I didn't know her at all. Never had the chance to meet her, but I interacted with her a few times on twitter.

She was kind, forthright, thoughtful, passionate, and spoke openly about mental illness and depression. She talked about her previous suicide attempts, about how upsetting it was for her to be attacked on twitter, to be told to kill herself, to be bullied constantly by gutless, faceless, cowards. I don't know much of the details about how she died, but it seems like she killed herself. I can only imagine why. Nobody, perhaps not even her family, will know why she thought this was the only option open to her.

I expect, as this is debated online and off, that she'll be called selfish for making this choice and leaving behind so much. She was beloved, even by those who only knew her via social media. She was also hated in a way that I can't even comprehend. She was spoken to in ways no human deserves. Regardless of the circumstances, the perception of suicide being selfish is an easy conclusion to come to, but comes from flawed reasoning of people that don't really understand what it's like to live with depression.

Depression kills you in silence. The reality of being loved is impossible to understand when the silence in your mind is attacking you and making you believe you are valueless. Even in the middle of a crowd of friends and family, it dampens the noise and fills you with despair that only another person that has lived with depression can possibly understand. Even someone who lives with it day in and day cannot understand your depression. Nobody can. Your own mind rebels against you and fills you with such fear and sadness.

I live with depression every day. And anxiety. It is a horrible reality I can't explain to those that love me. It is a fear so deep within me that I can't bring it close enough to the surface of my mind to give it words. I fight it with medication, will, and anger. Only the deep anger I feel at being filled with this deeply horrible despair can drive the sadness away. Even then it is only for a time.

There have been times that I have felt so overwhelmed by depression that I have considered, and tried, to commit suicide. I was unsuccessful and I'm glad. Because I lived I've experienced so much, not all of it wonderful, but all of it worth it.

There are few words that can bring someone back from the brink. It's so hard to believe that anything can be good when you live in a silent sadness all the time. But there are people who can help. You just need to find the strength to ask.

Phone a friend, phone your family, phone a total stranger, phone lifeline. Ask for help. Find that spark of anger inside you that's saying "I want to live" and use it to pick up the phone and ask for help. There is no shame in saying you need help. It is not weak to be vulnerable.

In the world of depression silence is the enemy, and the only way to beat it is to speak out. Not just when you're in trouble, but every day. Mental illness shouldn't be spoken of in hushed whispers of shame. It should be talked about openly so that those that live with it know they can ask for help.

If you are lost please don't hesitate to contact lifeline or a mental health helpline. In Australia you can 13 11 14 anytime day or night. Save your own life, because it really does get better.