My Journey Into Silence and Darkness 

It’s been a bit since I’ve been here. I haven’t wanted to share because sometimes posting here makes things real. Life for me has been incredibly hard. Everyday is kicking my ass. Everyday feels like I’m losing. My journey is dark and many ways silent. I feel so very alone on my path and as each day passes it’s gets more difficult to live in this isolation that I have created.

The outside world is still so harsh and seemingly gets worse the longer this administration is allowed to function unchecked. I try my best to limit my exposure but also want to be informed as to what’s happening. As much as I want to, I just can’t pretend to not care but I also need to protect myself from the overwhelming amount of racism, hate, and cruelty we are all being exposed to. It makes me incredibly sad to see my country behave like this and I don’t want to be a part of it. I care about people- ALL people. Not real happy with MAGA supporters but. 

My inside world is struggling so mightily. My brain overflows with thoughts and words that I can’t always make sense of. The internal dialogue can be so harsh. I commented some weeks back that things have shifted and I’m feeling that so strongly these days.

I’m slowly giving in, giving up. I don’t know how much longer I can sustain myself. That sentence says it all- sustain myself. I know I am a strong woman, but I don’t see where it’s even possible for me to pull myself out of how far I’ve fallen. I have set myself up to fail by not having a support system in place for these years when I need it most. 

My total health is crap right now. My mental and emotional health sucks. My physical health has been deteriorating ever since I had cancer and I would have to say I feel worse right now than I ever have in my entire life. I’ve went to so many doctors and had so many tests and here I sit almost 5 years into symptoms with zero answers of why this stuff is malfunctioning or how to help. 

How can my mental health improve as my body fails? Not sure it’s possible. While I do believe in mind/body, I don’t believe that a person creates their own health issues in the mind. For myself, I do think mental struggles can exasperate the physical symptoms. I get so tired of being dismissed and gaslit by people claiming it’s all in your mind. One day I’ll post about this as I’m very passionate on this topic. 

Giving up and giving in. Little by little, part by part, I seem to be surrendering to the beliefs that things will never change, that so many parts of me will never even get a chance to change or heal. Lots of grieving has been going on internally because of the acceptance. Many parts have felt cornered, frustrated with being stuck so they surrender. My parts are tired of the struggling, feeling like we are fighting a losing battle. They don’t have the strength to continue the fight.

In many ways I am preparing for the inevitable. I’m losing parts of myself. I’m allowing the giving up and giving in. I have accepted the facts that I have limited resources that factor in including support and finances. If something major would happen I am just shit out of luck. I can’t do it all for myself any longer as I’m just not physically and mentally able. 

I have tried so hard to help myself. So many different things and ways and people and yet there seems to be no answers for me, nothing that truly gives me any hope of recovery. And that’s it in a nutshell. I have lost any hope of change.

Hopelessness waxes and wanes in my life. It has been a huge part of depression for me. This seems bigger than that. I understand it though. When you’ve been fighting for answers and solutions as long as I have and received zero else, ending the struggle becomes real. 

I talk about suicide because I think about suicide. Those that may panic when they hear the word don’t understand how suicidality can be chronic. I am not in immediate danger of killing myself today but I am at risk that it could happen. That became very real for me this week when I realized I was actually willing to go through with it. There is nothing here on this earth that makes me want to stay much longer. No person would really miss me and I’m not attached to my cats enough to keep fighting for them. I don’t have FOMO as I’ve done enough things in my life and I don’t have a bucket list. 

In some ways, it’s a comfort to know I’m willing because at least it’s an answer to end the suffering of my symptoms, a solution that I have not found anywhere else. In other ways it’s sad that I feel I have no other options but it’s where I’m at. I haven’t set a time limit for my self and I will continue to do what I can.

My darkness is thick and unrelenting. The heaviness of the burdens are becoming too much to bare. I am very much alone in the silence, in the private hell that I’ve created for myself. I’m not living. I’m just dying, little by little; part by part, slipping away into the abyss; the point of no return. 

Point of no return? Time will tell. Not today. Substances sustaining me for now. 

Is there anyone out there? I’ll let you know before I go.

3-13-26 

2026 The Long Road Home: My Journey Into The Darkness 

It’s three weeks into 2026. The outside world is becoming so hard to watch, so hard to understand the cruelty and violence happening right here in the USA. Just another added layer of harshness for me to figure out how to navigate. There seems to be no real escape. 

I have tried so hard but I’m so very tired. I no longer have any realistic expectations that I will ever get any better than I am right here and right now. I’ve spent many hours in therapy talking, just as many if not more reading and watching and trying to educate myself. I’ve taken medications, bought the programs and workbooks, done the breathing and meditations and so many kinds of exercises- all supposed “gold standards” for treating trauma with “proven” research and result but I’ve come to realize that research apparently doesn’t include anyone like me because NONE OF IT WORKS FOR ME!

When I embarked on my journey into the world of therapy, I didn’t expect miracles or quick cures. I never even expected my therapist to “fix” me even though they all worry enough to comment about that. I knew I was carrying a lot underneath and it would take work which I have happily done. I was hopeful for change. Every single person has told me they can help me feel better about myself and I’ve tried to believe them, but here I am four years later and the only thing that has changed is my awareness of how much I loathe myself and hate my life. Life is so full of triggers for me that safety seems elusive and I just live either in shutdown or fight/flight. 

My life’s circumstances have been altered so much the last 5 years. I went from working 60 plus hours a week, to now having “chronic” health issues, rarely leaving my house or having any connection to anyone or anything. These days I’m often in bed, wasting the day away. I’ve kind of become that weird, crazy old woman, that lives alone with her cats. Life doesn’t fulfill me or excite me or give me any reason to want to keep engaging. While my world has become so small, my struggle has only grown larger. 

I will do my best to keep trying to find answers, to move forward as I always do, but in the background I will be working to manage all my responsibilities so I can be able to depart guilt free. A plan. To find my path home. To be free of the pain, done with the darkness. 

I know that much of what I have written on my blog is not new. Just re-reading my blog has confirmed for me how cyclical my depression is, how it doesn’t ever really get better but just goes up and down and all around. It seems never ending with no way out. I am not living I am just existing and I hate it so much. 

Why should I have to endure so much physical and emotional pain just to survive? I don’t believe in life at all costs. To be told there are no answers, we don’t know, I just have to figure out a way to endure is unacceptable to me. This will be my way of doing things in my control.

The few people that actually loved and accepted me just as I am have all passed away. The pull of having a chance to see them again in some way can be very strong. I don’t have any real hope of ever finding any true friends again in this lifetime. I don’t see any real future where I’ll ever find a life to be worth living. 

I feel a small sense of calm. To know I have a choice, to be able to find relief. I am not afraid. I don’t have fear of missing out. While my life’s path has been difficult, I am fine with the things I have done, places I’ve been, people I have helped. They’re enough. I don’t want to struggle any more. 

2026. A different kind of year for me. Traveling my path. Alone. Finding my way home. Peaceful. No more pain. There is no one else coming to help. The choice is always mine.

1.17.26

The End of the Road

 The End of the Road... 2025

There is about 36 hours left before the clock strikes midnight and 2025 will be complete. I cant say I am sorry to see it go as this has been the second worst year I have had in my entire life.  I only need to read back on this blog to be reminded of how much pain and suffering I have endured to get to this day. Sadly, I don't see where much will be able to change for me so I am not really excited for 2026. It seems that next year I will choose to be the end of my road. 

I have worked so hard the last 4 years to try to get my mental health to improve. I had never been in therapy prior to my cancer albeit for a failed forced attempt when I was a teenager. I went into this thinking I will listen and work hard and I will be able to overcome it all, just as I have used my brains my entire life. Ha ha...naivety at its finest. 

Instead what have I found in the therapy room? Its the most invasive thing I have ever put myself through and not achieved any results. What have I taken from there? Awareness. Awareness of all the shit that lives inside me. I don't feel any better about myself and if I am being honest I actually feel so much worse. Its seems to just have given all those internal critics of mine free reign to wreak havoc inside me. They remind me everyday how much disdain and loathing I have for myself. How I hate the person I am.

Yes it sounds harsh because it is. At least my current therapist has been honest with me and I am thankful for that as I have realized what a crock of shit my previous one was selling me. How she really had no answers but let me stay stuck for over a year and then led me down a path to be raw and open and vulnerable, left me with a huge open wound, actively bleeding, and never coming back to finish the job, but instead just abandoned me in an email. How screwed up that a therapist, a psychologist, a PsyD would fuck with my head and then hurt me so badly. That the person I trusted with so much of my deepest darkest did not help me but instead hurt me so deeply, so purposefully. The hurt from that experience is extreme. I was given no closure, no way to understand, and also left in a mental headspace that has made it hard for me to recover from. How do I truly ever trust anyone again after being treated so poorly? I feel so used, like I was some kind of fucking experiment.

Shame and guilt are hard ones. They rule my life in many ways with shame being at the top of my list. When I was 17, I betrayed myself. I don't mean some insignificant teenage BS. I went against my morals and values and not only hurt myself but another too. It's something I cannot change, fix, or make any kind of amends. So what I was told is to just accept and when I do I hate myself even more everyday for what I did and find no path for forgiveness for me. This self betrayal will haunt me until I take my last breath. 

I don't think anyone truly understands what it’s like to live with someone you hate when that person is Self. Is it really a mystery why I wake up everyday and try to figure out a way to make some hours disappear so I don't have to spend time with myself, my shame, my guilt?? It is so fucking overwhelming because there is no escaping yourself. I am right there in my head, with my thoughts, beating on myself constantly. So I take drugs and just get so fucking high that I cant feel anymore and I can just escape by passing out.

I have no real friends. I missed Christmas because I have had a nasty virus the last 2 weeks but not one person noticed. I didn't hear from anyone. No holiday greetings, no how are you. and that's what my life has become. Isolated, invisible, and alone with all those lovely voices in my head and my cats. This is my life: I get 2 hours a week to talk with my therapist and the other 166 hours in my week I spend with my cats. I won’t be missed when the road ends. I feel a large crash coming soon.

I knew at some point this was coming. I am tired. I cannot keep this up. I feel like an imposter, one who has been faking it for a very long time but has finally been exposed. If I am such a great person, why am I so alone? This question stings because there is no answer that makes sense except for I am not a good person. To give your entire life to others and then end up alone is the story of my life. My reality is that I don't see a way to change this for myself. Where do I find people to just talk to let alone find a friend or build a support system? Unfortunately it's not real safe here in the US to be looking for friends unless of course you're MAGA. How can I even trust my own decisions when everyone I chose over my years is no longer here because they were never really here for me? I blame no one for my situation except for myself and the solution will be mine alone.

I have no doubt that I have paid my societal debt for giving. I have given everything I have to others but on the flip side that has left very little for me to give myself. My tank is beyond empty with no real way to fill it up. Its just not possible to provide myself with all I need and believe me I have been trying with all I have but it's just not enough. Slowly, everyday I am giving up, little by little and it feels like 2026 I will find the end of my road. 

I don't know when It will happen. I am not in a hurry. I will have a fail safe plan. It will be painless and pleasant. I will make sure that what little I am responsible for will be well taken care of. Slowly, little by little I will move out of the security of my Castle and leave it as my “I was here” place, abandoned and haunted by the voices of my parts that will celebrate their victory in ending the pain of it all while all those secrets get buried along with me. 

                            

                                        

This may be my last post here on this blog. Maybe I’ll document my final trip. I haven’t determined if I want to keep writing here. While I have enjoyed it, I had hoped to find some people to interact with but they have all gone now. I get it- who wants to just read about the darkness. Depression is dark. Depression is hard. For me, depression is terminal with no way out. It’s not really living, it’s just existing and it’s a miserable place to be. It just cycles round and round and doesn't get any better. I don't see a path to win against this horrible place that my mind keeps me trapped in. I'm not sure what's worse, the pain in my body or the one in my mind. Either way, I am so over the pain and never finding any answers for any of it.

I hope you all find a much better world out there than the one I live in. I don't wish it on anyone but maybe the Orange Taco Asshole who is causing so much harm to people and my beloved USA. 

Here’s to the end of pain. 🥂 As we used to say back in my day: Peace, Love and Bobby Sherman ❤️☮️

https://youtu.be/NLlOeGeVih4?si=MS0OPOIFJ-JVqgzC

May everyone find their own peace.

12.30.25

Life Has Been Kicking My Ass

 Struggling

Life has been kicking my ass lately in so many ways. Just when I think I’m catching a break, finding some space, some inner peace, it all goes away and here I am back in the darkness of hopelessness.

This week a young man in Dallas took his own life. He was a 24 year old second year player for the Dallas Cowboys. On Monday Night Football he recovered the ball in the end zone, scored his first NFL touchdown and 80,000 fans cheered wildly as he celebrated. Thursday evening after a police chase for a traffic violation, he took a gun and ended himself after calling his family to say goodbye.

This was extremely heartbreaking to read because I get it. I fully understand the dark places your depression mind can take you and the lies it can tell you. I’ve been living in that darkness with visits to the edge; I just haven’t taken the final leap, selected my final option.

To me, this young man’s tragic end to his life speaks volumes about the stigma of mental illness; how many suffer but few reach out to ask for help. Most people don’t get it because they haven’t experienced it themselves or just don’t see what’s going on inside someone with mental health struggles because outwardly it seems like all is great in their lives. The thing is, we get good at masking, pretending instead of sharing or reaching out for help. For many, the stigma of being seen as having mental health issues can be seem harder than reaching out. Instead it’s simply I’m fine. 

He seems to have had it all. He played football at a small college and he dreamed of being in the NFL. His hard work paid off when the Dallas Cowboys drafted him and he signed a contract for 7 million dollars. He was an active part of the team. He had a family and girlfriend that loved him and supported him. He had all his team mates and the entire Cowboys organization. He had plenty of money, seemingly living his dream, his best life. But today he is no longer alive. The stories and lies his brain told him overwhelmed him and he chose that final option. 

It’s hard for people to understand how the darkness of depression makes you unable to see or hear anything but the lies of the illness. It doesn’t matter how intelligent you are or if you’re a CEO, bus driver, or NFL player. You may intellectually understand but it still doesn’t matter. Sometimes being told how much we have to live for or how good our lives are just makes it worse. 

Sadly I don’t see the stigma of illness getting better in this current atmosphere of lack of care and concern for our fellow humans. It’s the same type of judgment many of us are subject to when we are given a health diagnosis like fibromyalgia or dysautonomia. I get not wanting that stigma, prepared to get the eye roll from the physicians, told it’s all in your head because they can’t seem to find anything else. So you give up and just stop asking, stop going to doctors. The darkness gets darker. See my recent post about chronic illness. 

Reaching out for mental health issues can be so difficult  and there is no guarantee that therapy will be helpful either. The mental health industry has it's good and bad. Unfortunately there are way to many "quick fixes and gold standards" that aren't actually helpful and can and does cause much harm to many. There are a ton of modalities out there and who knows what will actually help. Finding the right assistance for what you need can be very difficult; I am speaking from personal experience here.

This young mans death reminded me that for me and so many others who battle mental illness and depression that it doesn't matter how much money you have, how successful your career is, how much love and support you might have, it still might not be enough to let the light in when the darkness surrounds and overtakes you. 

Life has been kicking my ass lately. I feel so alone. I am so tired, so discouraged, and so very lost in my stories that I wonder if it's all slipping a way. For people with depression, life can be a daily battle simply to stay. 

24 years old. I hope he found the peace that all of us living in that darkness so desperately crave. RIP. 

11.8.25

July

It’s July and this my first post for the month. I’ve needed the silence for a bit. I came across this article today and so much of it spoke to me. Hope you feel something too…

 To The Quietly Courageous

By Liz Koch July 7, 2025

There are lives shaped by struggle. By hopelessness that lingers so long, it becomes the air you breathe. I’ve lived that kind of life, where getting out of bed feels like a triumph. Where brushing your teeth, answering a text, or making it through the day without crying feels monumental. I’ve known what it’s like to be swallowed whole by something you either can’t or don’t want to name out loud.

I’m not in that place right now, and I’m grateful for that. But I haven’t forgotten what it took to survive those days. I carry it with me, not as shame, but as a quiet kind of knowing. A deep respect for the ones still in it.

This is for you.

You, who gets up when every part of you wants to stay buried under the covers. You, who takes your medication even when you feel conflicted about it. You, who goes to therapy, even when it’s exhausting or scary. You, who endures the hurt of living in a world that wasn’t designed to hold you. You, who is learning, maybe for the first time, that setting boundaries is not selfish, it’s necessary.

I want you to know that I see you.

There’s a courage in the choices you make that the world might never applaud. But I know how much they cost. I know how much strength it takes to do what looks small from the outside. Texting a friend and asking for help when your throat tightens with shame. Saying “no” to someone who’s always expected you to say “yes.” Choosing not to self-harm when the urge feels familiar and loud. Taking a mental health day from work or school when the pressure becomes too much to carry.

That’s not weakness. That’s resilience.

Sometimes it’s as quiet as making a meal for yourself, taking a shower, or cleaning the clutter from your nightstand. Sometimes it’s deciding to stay sober one more day, without recognition, without anyone noticing but you. Those choices matter. They are acts of hope in a world that can feel endlessly heavy.

People love a good comeback story. The crash, the rise, the triumphant return. I’ve learned that healing doesn’t arrive like a sunrise, sudden and full of promise. It’s more like a flicker, a candle in the wind. It lives in the in-between moments, the ones where you’re not quite falling apart, but not yet feeling okay. It’s in the pause between grief and relief, the expansion and contraction of daily life. That’s where quiet courage lives. And it’s sacred.

Most of the real work happens in silence. Day after day. Inch by inch. Choosing to keep going, even when there’s no finish line in sight. That’s where healing grows, not in grand transformations, but in a thousand quiet choices. I know this because I’ve lived it.

I’ve sat through therapy sessions where I couldn’t make eye contact. I’ve swallowed pills that tasted like surrender, only to find out later they were small vessels of hope. I’ve spent months numb, wondering if joy would ever return. And I’ve come out the other side, not fixed, but whole in a different way. A kind of kintsugi-wholeness, held together with golden seams.

That life—the one shaped by struggle—has given me something, too. A kind of knowing. Not just of pain, but of what it means to rebuild. Of what it means to live inside the “after.” There’s wisdom in that. A beauty the world doesn’t always recognize, but I see it.

So when someone says, “Easy for you to say. I can’t,” I don’t respond with clichés or solutions. I respond with truth. That I’ve been there, feeling stuck and defeated. That I found courage, not because I felt strong, but because giving up never led me to where I needed to go. I kept choosing the next step. The next breath. The next hour. That’s all it was. That’s all it ever is.

And that choice, made over and over, becomes its own kind of strength. A quiet wisdom that says: “It won’t always feel like this. You are not broken. You are doing the best you can with what you’ve been handed, and that is enough.”

To be quietly courageous means choosing life again and again in ways no one may ever see. It means carrying pain without letting it define you. It means holding onto hope—not loudly but tightly.

You are not weak.

You are quietly, powerfully brave.

And on the days you forget, I’ll remember for you.

---

People need other people. You are not weak for wanting or needing support. If you’re seeking professional help, we encourage you to use TWLOHA’s FIND HELP Tool. If you reside outside of the US, please browse our growing International Resources database. You can also text TWLOHA to 741741 to be connected for free, 24/7 to a trained Crisis Text Line counselor. If it’s encouragement or a listening ear that you need, email our team at info@twloha.com. 

I am still here. Just trying to figure things out. 

7.11.25

Giving In or Giving Up

 Giving In or Giving Up

How do I continue? Hopelessness abounds. Darkness still prevails. I don’t see a way out but instead just an end. To fall off into the void. To end the pain and suffering of so many years. To relieve myself of the constant struggle of survival. 

I’m not living. I’m barely existing. Slowly dying in my aloneness. Why would anyone in this world care if I don’t care about myself. Trauma brain tells me this but sometimes it seems I care too much about others and that’s what hurts me so. 

I don’t see a way in, a way around, a way out. Trapped in my misery, so close to crazy, parts in such disarray, out of control, so close to being psychotic, and ready to go to the end to find relief. 

Any possibility of help is now gone. Unable to accept any assistance, barely functioning. What now? No real answers. Just more pain and suffering. 

Depression is such an expert thief. Holding a very thin thread today. 

Alone. Isolated. Invisible. The paradise of my private hell.

4.17.25

Finding Space to Breathe

Finding Space to Breathe

Life has been so heavy for me so far in 2025. This past couple weeks has challenged me like I haven’t felt in many years. It’s difficult to keep fighting when you only have yourself to count on. Struggling but here I am writing it out. 

The last week I did some things that scared me, things I’d not really considered doing before. Making a list of people to call if I’m found dead and a few other details in that realm regarding my pets and possessions. I believe it’s considered part of making your plan. It surprised me somewhat that I got to those thoughts but it shouldn’t have since it’s been so very dark in my world. A true low for me.

I always am continually looking for harm reduction type things I can put in place for myself as I know I’m at risk. Options is one of my favorite words because for me, running out of those options will be when I die. The biggest promise I have between me, myself, and I, is I don’t make permanent decisions when I’m in my low depressive, black and white thinking, hopelessness and despair or any other cognitive distortions. So far I’ve not broken that promise. Not going to lie, I came close this week.

Warm lines. If you don’t what they are and you have depression with suicidal ideation you should have the numbers in your area handy. Why? Unlike the national suicide hotline, warm lines are run by peers and they don’t track your number and turn you in. It’s just someone on the other end to connect with, to talk, to bring yourself back, to stay. You don’t need to be in full crisis to call warm lines. You can call just to talk with someone. Some have an hour time limit but many will talk with you as long as you need.

I found myself in a panic. I knew I needed help getting out of it so I called. I talked. I found some space and was able to breathe a little bit more. It suck’s to not have any options to call someone I know. I just don’t have any support like that in my life any longer. All those type of friends are gone now, sadly have passed away. No family in my picture. Currently having no therapist has made any emotional support back to zero. 

I don’t know what my fate is right now. I am doing my best. Some days I just take minute by minute. Suicide for me is not about wanting to die, but simply not wanting to live this joyless life I’m in. They are separate parts in my system as they are two different things. I’m so aware of the workings that make up these parts of my system. There’s an entire gang I call the death squad.

Awareness is one thing. I do appreciate being aware of all the different parts that make up “me”. But I haven’t made much progress with change. The disappointment and hurt from being so close to some actual help, confronting these shadows of mine and having a plan that all disappeared when I was abandoned by my therapist. It’s hard to find the proper words to explain how many ways that has affected me. I’m still discovering the enormity of it all.

It’s so discouraging to think about starting all over again. Can I do it? Will I do it? How will I do it? Trust is locked away pretty tightly. So many unanswered questions to ponder. My brain is still searching but unsure if I can find solutions. I do realize help is needed. I’m going to search for a bit of hope with finding that help. At least I can breathe a bit more and I’m still here fighting for that breath. 

Double I. Still alone. Struggling. Me. Myself. I

Can I just say fuck. It seems appropriate.

3.4.25

The Big Darkness

The Big Darkness 

It’s as dark as it’s ever been in my world right now. Depression just sucks everything out of me and circumstance doesn’t help. I’m not sure how to help myself. Things are shifting and that can be scary. Of course I have lots of tools but they can only work to a point as this thing called depression can be so alluring and deceiving. So I come here to write, to get my words out because I don’t know what else to do.

Deep sadness and despair overcomes me right at this very minute as I’m writing. I feel so lost and can’t find any scrap of hope today to keep up this fight. I’m used to sitting with pain of all types but this time is different. Letting yourself experience what’s happening is supposed allow it to flow in and then out, like a river. Problem for me is things flow in but then swirl around like a whirlpool with a vortex that sucks it all in and holds it tightly underneath, trapping it all within. 

All the voices in my head, these thoughts and feelings of worthlessness and despair are suffocating me, slowly building up enough to crush my entire being. The past few days I been feeling defeated like no other time. Knowing I am totally alone right now has such polarizing effects on my mind. Getting so tired of the fight, the push and pull, like a tug-a-war that never ends. Will that thread that never seems to break keep holding me or will one side claim victory? I have not seen Ted and Teddi for awhile (my thread parts). IYKYK. 

I have doubts that things will change, that I can find some reason that makes me want to stay here. When this first went down I promised myself that this would not be what defeats and buries me. That’s not a promise I can keep right now. This is different. Being alone with no support I just never know. Minute to minute I’m trying my best to stay, to give myself a chance, but how many days can I sit in the shit and not drown? It’s already so hard to breathe. 

These battles in this darkness never seem to give me any relief. I know I need help but where will I find it? I do not know if I’m even capable of allowing anyone to help me again. The ability to explain what’s going on has been severely hampered by betrayal of my trust that is so hard for me to give. Will I have be so desperate that I won’t reach out until I get to the crisis intervention stage? Will I even ask for help then or will I succumb to all the voices in my head?

The pull of wanting this all to end is strong. My life is a fucking disaster and I don’t want to live this anymore. I didn’t want to wake up today but here I am. Still trying. Depression: like a never ending pile of dirty dishes. 

Where do I go? 

What do I do?

Depression….

Fuck you!

More thoughts in poems: 

Depression

Like lead bullets poisoning my bloodstream

Going to the center of my brain

Corroding my mind vault

Letting loose these feelings I trapped away for so long

These thoughts slowly enveloping me

Until there’s nothing left

No me

Just this beast I call depression.

End.

Every day is a challenge for me right now. People don’t understand and most just look away, not really wanting to notice or be bothered by those that might be suffering. I can’t predict what will happen. Right now it’s just all so empty and dark. I’m below my basement today. It’s all just too much sometimes. Why do you think I take drugs. At least they give me some relief, an escape, albeit temporary. It’s better than none at all. 

Consumed by darkness

All fades to black

Light you can’t harness

The passion you lack

The soul that once burned

Now freezes in vain

The answers once yearned

Now provided by pain.

End.

Is there any hope out there to be had? I can use some help finding some. Mine is lost. The vortex. Temptress. Numb Helga please take me away.  

Double I. Alone. 

3.2.25 

Alone and So Empty

Alone and So Empty 

The roller coaster ride of depression can be so frustrating. It fights against most anything that might shine a light. Today seems ever so familiar and I find myself back into the basement, in the darkness, bombarded with the tortuous voices of the past.

Yesterday was actually a good day. I went for a float in the morning and I collected on an hour with an IFS coach that I had amazingly been chosen as the winner. Floating for me is always so wonderful. I know if I can get myself there it will benefit me greatly- body and mind. I work hard to fight the challenges of not wanting to engage with others on the way. I find strategies I am able to use to get me from my car to my tank room and back to my car in a safe doable way for me. 

The coaching hour was so surprising. What I mean is she was really a fantastic practitioner. My parts and I fully enjoyed our engagement with her. She was so very perceptive and kind. That she was able to hold space for all the parts that showed up was amazing for me in own it’s right. It certainly was wonderful to be able to have an hour of conversation with and about parts and be fully engaged without question. If I’m being honest, I would have to say for me and my parts, she was the best IFS connection I have ever encountered and I was so appreciative of the time she spent with me. Maybe coaching will be something helpful in the future and I wouldn’t hesitate to go back to her. Right now, dealing with my shadows, a trained therapist is needed. 

This morning I woke up feeling so much sadness. We are feeling so alone right now, hurting, feeling abandoned and also desperate but for what is unknown. I’m trying to fight it but it is hard to always welcome this despair. The voices that come with it are so cruel. The Squad in full force. Just die you fat and ugly piece of shit. You suck. You aren’t worth the air you breathe. You deserve everything that comes your way. Come closer and let us push you off the edge and end it all for you- you’ll feel better then. Temptress. 

Just a few of the lovely conversations that happen in Harshland, my internal reality. They scare the fuck out of me because they are right when they say they offer me a solution. Death definitely ends this all. All the pain and struggle will cease. There is zero doubt in my mind about that. 

I have an entire crew that pushes me towards death. I understand what they are saying and have come close to listening on a few occasions. They may win one day. I asked my therapist once if she ever thought suicide was rational. She said she understood that this gave relief to those who had so much pain and suffering. I so appreciate honesty of that depth from anyone. You can’t really understand unless you’ve lived it within yourself or walked beside another on their journey in this fucked up dark black hole called depression. 

The desire and parts that want to live are different than the part that doesn’t want to live or the part that wants to die, the depressed part, the self sabotaging part. They are very challenging and so far I have been able to resist their final offerings. I’m not always going to be strong enough. If I’m not feeling it I won’t push it but instead I will just avoid and distract because what if they win. 

What does that mean for me. Currently I don’t find my life pleasant. No joy. Nothing I see that makes me want to keep fighting. I wake and am often disappointed that I’m still here. I try to find ways to make the day go by with the least amount of shit and get back to bed where I will hope I naturally dont wake up. Then it starts all over again.

Lately, the hours during the day where TV or reading or journaling just doesn’t help are spent putting substances in my body to escape, to pass out, to not cope with my reality. The month of January my chemical disassociation has been excessive and out of the norm for me. I am acutely aware. But drugs have been my only friend. It keeps me here for now. It fits my pattern of poor choices in friends. They all feel good in the beginning but hurtful in the long run. I just don’t have any other answers right now that I’m capable of coming up with on my own. No passion for life, no joy, little hope. My life is a fucking mess and I don’t how to make it any different, any better. 

This being in limbo is hard. I am struggling and I know I need help but I’m not sure where that will come from. I have no confirmation if or when my current therapist will return. I decided to reach out and I’m hoping for a response. I feel selfish for asking but I really need to have an answer. 

Feeling so very alone right now. I still hate connection. The good encounters of yesterday only made me crash hard today and there is no one else here with me to lend support so I don’t fall. I fight to keep the world out because when I let them in they hurt me, they all hurt me. Reality sucks. 

When will I just give in. All the people who love me have gone to the other side. Days like today make it seem I will join sooner rather than later. Depression brain sucks. 

Day 36. Still very alone. 

I don’t think anyone is out there? It sure would be great for you to say hello. My heart is hurting a lot today. 

What “friend” will I choose to journey with today? The stash box is full. 

2.4.25

Not If…When

Not If….When

 I am in such a fucked up place in my mind. I’m miserable as hell. I don’t enjoy life. I’m angry and grumpy and I hate most every person I encounter. I go to bed many nights hoping I don’t wake up. I don’t see anything I can change to make it better and so it just keeps piling on.

I have no doubt I will die by suicide at some point. I just feel this so strongly right now. I can’t do all I need alone but I dont have anything or anyone else. There is just too much for me to overcome. It’s pretty daunting to think of it all. Of course I try all the things I know to make it easier- breaking it down into smaller thoughts to not overwhelm. But lying to myself or trying to fool myself isn’t very effective. 

What would make it better. Even 0.1% better would be a start but I can think of nothing that would make me happy. I find zero joy in living. My daily life is just a reminder of the shit hole I have created for myself. I don’t find myself deserving of anything nice or pleasurable. My mental health is suffering and my physical health issues just add another layer. I feel rotten and fucked up at my very core- irreparable by myself. Unfixable. Unforgivable. Unloveable. 

Just living to exist doesn’t really make sense to me. I should be grateful to struggle every fucking day. Why? It doesn’t really matter because if I don’t care what’s the point? I have no future. I won’t be missed. Some tell me that all I really have is the present. But bullshit. Most people see something in their future. I see nothing but darkness there. 

I have no family, no partner, no real friends. This is the life I cultivated and now I’m retired and I am having to live and deal with the shitty life situation I have created for myself. How much more can this one person take? I don’t have the answer but I feel like I’m being pushed to edge, to test my “resilience”. So messed up. Strong my ass. I’m tired. 

Stuck in this same space for a while now. Is this all there is for me? Three years in therapy and I don’t feel any better, if I’m being honest I feel worse. Therapy has uncovered so much more stuff. Awareness is one thing but not processing or finding solutions or making changes seems like spinning in a circle. It feels at this point I will never make it out of place. I’m so lost and I don’t what to do or where to go or who might help me. 

It’s one of those days I don’t feel like trying any longer.

12.26.24

Suicide

Until I Depart

 I’m not afraid of sharing my thoughts of suicide. It’s when I quit talking about it we should all worry. I would guess most people with depression think about hurting or killing their self. It’s a horrible place to be stuck that darkness and hopelessness of depression. And let’s face it, suicide does guarantee to end the pain. 

I’m not advocating for but it is the truth. That’s the attraction of it. It’s actually trying to help by keeping me from feeling that horrible grief and pain and shame. It’s one of the vicious circles and cycles of depression. I’m always cognitively aware but often that doesn’t make one bit of difference. 

I get so tired but giving up? I’ve been close but I haven’t made it there yet. I always keep my options open. Options. A really good word for me. I enjoy having options so I am constantly searching and creating them. This is one on that final path and if it appears alone it is The Finale! I’m not there but I get it. It’s less scary to me now in some ways but more scary in others. 

Yes, I have a plan. Why hide it. When I'm ready, it’s going to be a helluva ride out! I’m not a gun person and I won’t inflict more pain on myself. Pharmaceuticals all the way to oblivion. A final countdown party to take me away. 

Until then, I’m going to just keep writing, keep talking…….

12.5.24

 The topic of suicide is not exactly something that many people are willing to discuss. I certainly can understand how uncomfortable it may be and maybe hard to understand for many. It’s been on my mind a lot. 

So many changes for me the past two years. Almost everything in my life plan has been altered. Honestly I don’t recognize myself much these days. The darkness and emptiness, the lack of worth, of purpose, and most of all joy; struggling everyday for a reason.to want to continue. For me, like many others, thoughts of suicide are not really about wanting to die but instead about not knowing if I want to live any longer. 

They say suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. But is this always the case? I was reading an article entitled “Rational Suicide”. Just the title intrigued me. The article was about how older adults, especially those in assisted living facilities, have been gathering outside of their facilities to discuss options for suicide. They are creating a plan to choose when they die prior to dementia or Alzheimer’s taking their choice away. At these meetings they share different methods of how to end their own life. These meetings take place away from their residences as apparently this topic is not allowed on the inside. Why? Because the facilities can be punished by Medicare for suicides that happen there. 

As a long time health care provider I don’t have an issue with wanting to be able to die when we choose. I see so much suffering. We should all have this choice. Not just the terminally ill. Protecting life at all costs has never made much sense to me. It’s one of those just because we can doesn’t mean we should. The dilemma seems to be is taking your own life ever rational? 

I’m not sure I can truly answer that question. I say yes it can be. But this is broken me talking. Are my thoughts on this right now rational? Again I feel like they are but….. Right now I am trying to figure out if I really want to keep living. That’s the honest truth. I’ve not put a time limit on it but what I can say is the way I am living right now I cannot sustain forever. Life without feeling is death. 

On a recent pod cast I caught, the psychotherapist was saying that suicide is all about anger and hate. While I could see where he is coming from, for me it’s about some other emotions too, especially pain. The pain of feeling the nothingness and the hopelessness. Not knowing if I’m willing or even want to fight my way through. These are feelings I’ve not had before so who is to say I can be fixed. Doubts easily creep in. 

As hard as I have been working to deal with my physical health issues, I still have so much more I have to go through to get my body well. Then there’s this fucked up mind of mine. This all has taken a massive toll on me. This depression and anxiety and panic attacks. It’s all so foreign and overwhelming. And I’m still so tired. 

The hardest thing is trying to care >>>>>> about myself. I’m not sure if I even know how. 

1-14-22

This happened on 1-15-22

 Mind Full

This is one of my favorite pictures. So simple but speaks to me so loudly. My mind is always working. Sometimes so fast that I can’t keep up. Maybe that’s why I love learning. I always assumed this is not the norm for everyone but it’s always been my normal. I used to hope that one day I’d be able to plug into a projector and show the movies in my mind. I thought that would be so awesome to have an actual visual, to see my own imagination, and my reality. It’s hard to quiet my mind. It’s been on overdrive for the past few weeks, saturated with stressful and anxious thoughts about what’s happening to me. I sometimes look down and realize words are coming out of my hands. An Italian thing? Am I going crazy? Two weeks ago I broke. Temporarily. I just could not handle any more input. This week it happened again, my thoughts were dark. I get scared. This has affected me in so many unexpected ways. So much harder than I have imagined. Being alone isn’t beneficial during these moments. 

8-31-21

I’ve never been successful at the ledge because I’m afraid of heights

I went to the ledge today. It has been such a long time since I was here. 

It looked so different.

Massive.

I walked back and forth most of the morning, stuck. 

Drowning in the stories in my mind.

I had an appointment to get to. 

We both knew something was not right.

The nature of the appointment delivered with honesty and compassion brought me back.

I was able to focus and walk away from the ledge.

I’m sure she didn’t realize the rescue.

But……I am still afraid of heights. 

___________________________________________________________________

This is just all so overwhelming to me. So much to take in. My mind just keeps going and filling with so many different scenarios. It’s hard to turn off, to control, to redirect. Not having information, not knowing a plan for what’s next is definitely a source of this fragile mess of confusion. 

What are some coping mechanisms you have used in your life when things become overwhelming? 

“Keeping a positive outlook is proven to help with stress management, but when someone says to "think positive" or "be optimistic" during a time such as cancer, it can be much easier said than done. We know that cancer isn't all rainbow and butterflies, and once a patient enters a dark mindset, it can be hard to get out of it.”

I think I’m doing OK and them BAM. Those thoughts of what’s the point come flooding right back in. I’ve tried to be conscious of what’s happened or what’s different on these days. I believe today’s trigger was I received my last actual paycheck from work. It was the last of my vacation/sick time. While I have applied for short term disability I have no idea how long that takes or if I will even be approved. So that check brought out not only that I now have zero income but also reminded me of the job itself.

I haven’t really talked about my job much because it is another source of stress that I’ve shared with few. That truth is I was being bullied and intimidated for the last several months. It certainly didn’t help my health being in that environment for so long. I tried a few times to express this but my concerns and complaints were not taken seriously and I essentially was told I was part of the problem. That is until 2 days prior to me taking medical leave. The truth eventually comes out and it was apparent those last couple days. I even got an apology but by then my focus was completely on my health. 

I am definitely concerned that my absence will not have solved anything but instead will have made things worse because it will not have been addressed. I don’t really have an option of not returning as I am in a position where having health insurance is a requirement. Just thinking about that day brings stress and anxiety. It also stirs up those thoughts of what’s the point. Why am I putting myself through all this?

Why? I don’t have family. Very few friends. No one who really knows me well. I think if I wasn’t here maybe a few people might feel sad but within a week or two my memory would be all but forgotten. It’s hard on some days to find reasons to get out of bed. I get so tired. I wonder if I’m just done. How much more can I endure? How much do I want to? It’s just the truth.

9-25-21