Dear readers,
How are you doing?
I needed to write to you. I didn’t expect depressive episodes to visit one week after I stopped my short story experiment. I thought I would take December off to reflect, plan and continue finishing my novella and a short piece of music. Perhaps, that’s too open ended and too ambitious of a plan. My brain needed more specificity, a timer and rewards. Plus, we are in a pandemic. My happy planning brain was not realistic.
I took a shower just now and called my mom. Depressive episodes include the benefit of forgoing personal hygiene. I was stinky. Now, a bit more pleasant to smell.
Last night, I called the suicide prevention line. The 800-273-8255 number. It helps to talk to a stranger without any reservation. Spilling out my suicidal plans made me realize I didn’t want to die. What I want is for the pain to go away. Depression makes me feel like a worthless and selfish person capable of nothing. It is not true. I am a good and bright person. I have family and friends who love me. And depression doesn’t define my characters or reduce me as a person. It is harder to see the disease as what it is when you are in the depth of it -it is a disease.
The therapist from last night taught me a new trick: holding an ice cube in my palm and squeezing it. The sharp physical pain from the ice cuts my depressive tape short. I woke up to the present moment. I can transfer my pain to the melting ice cube. I will have ice ready.
I am grateful for the help on the other end of the telephone. I am grateful for someone who tells me that I am not alone because they understand what I am going through with no spilled judgement or guilt.
The push I needed to make the phone call was reading the post about Rich Simon, a rather famous and wonderful professional clinician who saved many people’s life, committing suicide. He had battled with bipolar disorder for most of his life. He was the famous Esther Perel’s mentor. He had a community of people who love him. He was doing meaningful and innovative work. He had a deep knowledge of how to work with depression. He took his own life in the end. That shows how tenacious mental illness is. For some people, the battle is a lifelong one.
Having a support group and be open and willing to talk about the disease, including suicidal thoughts, can save lives. What helps me is to talk about it. The minute I open my mouth and talk to another human, I am reminded that what I want is to be rid of the pain and feel love and belonging. Like a diabetic who lives with the disease, we can live with our mental illnesses.
I want to keep going. I have a creative gift and I don’t want to cheat humanity out of the gift. You too, have a gift. Please keep going. Let’s make a pact to keep going.
P.S. more depression fighting tools from yours truly.
For the sensitive and creative kids, get a pair of running shoes and let yourself create. Creativity and genuine human connection come close as a cure.
As for my ambitious December plan, I am changing it to write 15 minutes/day. And I will time myself.
More words to come,
Xiaoyu
