Suicide.
a
Think about what that really means for a second.
Wow. Right?
Can you imagine the place one actually has to be at to really make a serious attempt? Scary, no? It is to me.
I’ve struggled with depression and anxiety most of my adult life. For the longest time I had no clue what it really meant. But I never felt suicidal. I never wanted to end my life. I always – yes, always and consciously – thought this was some kind of victory over my depression. Always.
It wasn’t until recently that these thoughts crept into my head. I wasn’t planning my end or wanting to die. I feel like that disclaimer is necessary. But recently – for the first time in my life that I remember – I’ve actually wondered at times why I go on.
That’s a scary thought to have. It’s not one you share via text with your BFF or tell The Canadian on bbm. You don’t tell anyone that you think it. That you wonder. That for s minute there your thoughts were consumed with WHY.
Why do I go on?
Why do I continue to live?
What in my life is really worth living for?
But there’s the shame attached to it, too. You can’t tell your friends over tea that sometimes you wonder. You can’t.
And while I’ve never actually sat down to plan anything out…well…lately, I’ve wondered.
This is where I feel that people who have real faith in their lives differ from me. Some people say the strength of their relationship with God makes it all ok. I don’t relate to that, as much as I may want to. I understand religion from an anthropological perspective…I do….but the idea of it makes me a little uneasy.
I believe in God…sure, I do. In my own way…one that most Christians wouldn’t embrace or understand. And while I say all this I swear to you – I’m not looking for you to give me reasons to live…or to reach out. I’m just talking. I’m telling it. I’m letting it out.
Because never before in my life had I ever wondered if it would be better if I weren’t here.
Because never before have I thought myself to be worthless.
Because never before did I ever think anyone other than Pastor Mom would feel my loss.
No, I’m not about to take a bunch of pills or try to o/d on anything. No, I would never do that to my family. They keep me from it – really.
But lately, I’m ashamed to admit, I’ve wondered why I’m here . And if it’s worth it.
You are here because I need you. And because cupcake eaters need you. And because your family needs you.
You are here because your dogs need you.
You are here because, without you, the managers at Starbucks wouldn’t have anyone to give salted caramel in a cup to.
You are here because you brighten people’s lives with who you are, what you do.
You are here because you are an amazing writer.
You are here because when I feel lonely and awful… there is someone on the other side of text message who reads my depressing and pathetic messages.
You are here because God needs you here.
So, don’t go on wondering anymore.
You are enough.
You are worthy.
You are loved.
Don’t get me wrong. I have been where you are… maybe worse off.
And no amount of reassurance will help without self-assurance.
But, Barista, you HAVE made a mark here. You have.
x
Motherfuck. My comment didn’t post.
Damn, here’s the synopsis of my consolation:
You are here because I need you.
You are here because your family needs you.
You are here because the manager at Starbucks needs someone to give a salted caramel in a cup to.
You are here because you matter.
You matter to the cupcake world.
You matter to all those stupid, cheating, stockbrokers.
You matter to your kids, your dogs.
You are here because God isn’t done with you yet.
You are here because you’re on the other side of some crazy, fucked up texts from me when no one else is.
I have been where you are… maybe worse off. And no one’s reassurance will help you without your own self-assurance.
You have left a mark. You have.
x
I can totally relate to these feelings. Prior to baby’s arrival I ALWAYS felt that I could die. Not that I *wanted* to die per se, but that I didn’t really feel like I had a purpose and that I would be happier in heaven. Life on earth mostly sucks. I felt that if I died I wouldn’t be mad or hold a grudge at God (silly I know).
I’ll be honest with you and say that I pretty much feel the same way, but now I *have* to stay for baby’s sake. So I guess that is my purpose.
I know exactly where you’re coming from. Most people have felt this way at some point in their lives but would never admit it. When I was younger around 12/13 I thought about ending it all on more than one occasion. I didn’t love myself. I hated me. I felt like no one loved me but my mother. I was depressed. The main thing that kept me from doing anything to myself was thinking about how hurt my mom would be if I wasn’t here. I was her baby.
A few years later, I was better. A lot better. I loved myself. I got out of that funk. And I thanked God for showing me how important I was. Its a funk some of us get in. Some just can’t get out of it and they take themselves away from the world. I’m just really glad I wasn’t that far gone and I was able to beat that depression.
Life isn’t always fun but it is always worth it.
Even the pain will have been worth is when you get to happier than you ever thought possible.
There are just days when it feels like there is no purpose…..but the upside is that you will realize your purpose.
I’ve been wondering this too, lately. Not about myself but about life in general. Are we actually supposed to be doing something or are we just sort of here? In the greater scheme of things, what does it matter if we die? I guess that’s not really the point you were trying to make, though. Anyway, I hope you stay alive because I like reading your blog and daydreaming about your cupcakes.