I hope you can’t relate to this
An American Express ad I saw today said that your spirit is unbreakable (but your phone isn’t).
The person who wrote that must’ve never wrestled with depression.
Felt its nails pierce through your skin and break apart your bones as it cut slice after slice of your heart out with a precision you had to admire.
They must’ve never lived with this pain for so long they grew numb to the wind whipping it’s way through the crooked hole growing wider and wider in your chest.
Because depression never stops, even in those moments where you think you can breathe, it’s a trap.
You’re never free.
The air filling your lungs is the air it wants you to have so you think you’ve beaten it down. So you think you’ve won.
But then one day, it reaches its slender hand deep into your chest and touches the spirit your heart used to guard. And in that instance you feel it’s poison splinter the spirit you’ve tried so hard to protect.
To strengthen.
To grow.
You feel it start to crumble and you get on your knees to beg your spirit to keep it together, to please not give in. That after all you’ve been through, there’s no way it can win. There’s no way you can lose this bit of yourself you thought you had hidden away just for yourself.
But your cries just make the tears burn more when they crawl over the open wounds permeating your body.
You are an empty battleground now.
And in your loss, you trace the parts of you you can’t see anymore, the parts of you you can’t remember. Until you reach the broken glass that was the glue that once held you together. The thing that gave you some semblance of hope. And you break even further. Unsure of how it’s possible to feel it all even more, how it could still hurt, how you could still have any tears left to shed, after all these years.
I bet that American Express writer never knew life could feel this way. I bet the never knew how broken a spirit could be*.
*I couldn’t be happier they don’t.
What I just wrote, and a lot of what I write, is a form of therapy for me to get out the thoughts that are just too loud sometimes. It helps me get a handle on the things trying to break me.
So if you relate, and are struggling as much as I do most days, please call one of the hotlines below because as dark as it gets, it’s important to remember that darkness doesn’t mean you’ll never able to see again. It means one day you’ll grow comfortable with a darkness you were once afraid of. It means you’ll be able to see things other people don’t.
And if it really doesn’t feel like you’ll ever make it to that place, definitely call one of these numbers. Also find someone you can trust to talk to because I’ve been there (and am there a lot of days), so I can personally tell you that with a solid support system around you and belief in yourself, you can make it:
- Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA): 1–800–662-HELP (4357)
- National Hopeline Network: 1–800-SUICIDE (784–2433)
- National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1–800–273-TALK (8255)
- A special hotline National Suicide Prevention number for the hearing impaired: 1–800–799–4889
- National Youth Crisis Hotline: 1–800–448–4663
- TrevorLifeline: 1–866–488–7386
- TrevorText: Text “Trevor” to 1–202–304–1200
