I don’t care if I wake up dead. If i went to bed tonight and never woke up, it would be the best thing that ever ￼happened to me. In fact, the worst thing to have happened in my life was being born.
How would you feel if you had these thoughts running through your mind ever single day? Could you cope? Would it destroy you?
This is exactly how I feel on a daily basis and no matter what I do I can’t shake these thoughts. You can distract me all you like, I can distract myself, even put it out my mind temporarily. However, the thoughts are still in there somewhere; hiding’ waiting to rear their ugly heads again. There’s no getting away from it. This is me for life it seems. For that reason, it becomes harder and harder to keep going. Do I really want to live out the rest of my life like this?
Depression is a silent and most deadliest of killers. Statistically, suicide is the biggest cause of death in males under 45 years of age. In 2015, a whopping 75% of all suicides were male (Source: The Calm Zone). Do I want to be yet another statistic? Do I even care?
I may not care about myself, but I do care about others. I hate death, I hate other dying and I hate other killing themselves. I beg you to seek help if you too are suffering. If you know someone who is down, please be kind to them, get them help or just give them a listening ear. Even the tiniest piece of kindness does go a long way. Even if your friend looks ‘normal’ you really don’t know what may be going on inside their brain. Be kind and gentle to everyone.
These very specific thoughts and feelings can be traced back to about ten years olf age. I would get so down about myself but was able to comfort myself by telling myself if everything got too much I could end my life.
That’s all I’ve known for the best part of my whole life.
Living with anxiety, panic attacks, agoraphobia and depression is not the easy life some may think; it’s not just relaxing time off work. Not one to complain, but I struggle to anything else which would cause this prolonged pain. Every single day of every single week of every single year from now until the rest of your life, it’s the same; fighting the same fight; fighting against these irrational thoughts in my head. It gets tiring. It becomes too much and that’s when that depression kicks in even more.
The worst thing is panic attacks can literally happen at any time, without warning and brought on by nothing in particular. I would be walking along content enough and next thing I know I’ve flopped in a heap on the floor. Absolutely no reason for it.
The amount of times I’ve been lying there on the pavement and had a variety of reasons from passers-by:
• The Dismissers; these don’t want to get involved, some sort of fear of you being a threat
• The Sceptics; these don’t believe there’s anything wrong with you. You either look perfectly fine or, as I once was, accused of being drunk.
• The Wanabee helpers; These are genuinely lovely people who have their hear in the right place. Unfortunately they do everything wrong, such as do what they think is right rather than what’s right for you.
• The Compliars; These do exactly what you want them to do and are the best people for these situations.
The times I’ve received fantastic help from complete strangers, it just serves to remind me of just how useless I am.
Even the simplest tasks I am unable to complete; walking or going round the shops. How difficult is it really? Not that difficult. For me, though, it’s the hardest thing in the world.
How did all this happen then? Where did it begin or all start to go wrong? Hard to say, but I can trace it back over 35 years.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve suffered from what I can only describe as ‘episodes’. These episodes were more specifically dizzy spells. The first of which occurred when I was around six years old. Vividly I recall out playing and randomly losing control of my legs. Falling to the floor, arms and legs flailing all over, I was the butt of the jokes from those who witnessed it. This ‘episode’ was fortunately a one-off, but it was to stick in my mind forever.
The next ten years passed with all too regular occurrences of those ‘episodes’. Many times at school, playing football mainly seemed to trigger them. So many times I lay in a heap on the ground, head spinning. As a child I grew up believing there was something wrong with me, perhaps internally somewhere. I longed for the day I had the courage to get check ed out by a doctor. Needless to say I never shared my worries with a single person and certainly not a parent.
More than most, I can see first hand that my issues now can be tracked right back through my life into my early childhood. For this reason, i fervently call on all Government agencies to put stringent help in place for all children from a very early age; not just kids who are displaying signs or deemed ‘at risk’. Every child needs regular checks. Please don’t let another child grow up like me.
If you are struggling, please seek immediate help: Samaritans 116 123; NSPCC: 0800 800 5000; ChildLine: 0800 1111