Tuesday, December 16, 2014

B is for Blues

Yes good friends are the best. I know cause I have ones like you" - Steve Nov. 17th. This was the end of a long text conversation that I had on a late Monday night. It was just like the normal messages that Steve and I shared on a regular basis... usually a couple times a week or so. Two days later I was on Facebook and saw very random words about missing Steve on his Facebook and after some investigation, I was in shock to find that Steve had passed away Nov 19th. Even more saddened that it was by his own doing. I do not know how long the process is to grieve someone that you were friends with for the better part of a decade and saw each other through many rough times. I am also not sure how you get over the idea that someone so bright and seemingly happy would take their own life. I flash backed 8 years ago for myself. It had been a bit over a year after my diagnosis. I remember sitting in my very dull house above a church in a rough part of Seattle. Everything I owned in a large room. I had recently ended a physically and emotionally abusive relationship. I had a job I was hating and even fewer friends I felt I could count on. I was depressed and felt hopeless. It was in all honestly the lowest point in my entire life. I thought I had a great idea... or so something in my head told me so. I meticulously gathered all the pills in my cupboard grabbed a large glass of water. Closed and locked my bedroom door. I dumped all the pills onto the floor and took a deep. I was ready to end it all. That is when I heard the whining (a familiar sound to me) from my little pup. Dutchess was only 4 months old but she just looked at me in a way that gave me the sense that she knew my darkness inside. That is when the thought hit me.... Who would take care of my little pup that I have been nurturing up to this point. I could not think of any one person who would care for and understand her like I had in those few months. How could I leave her all alone? All she had was me. As the tears fell I grabbed Dutchess and just laid on that tan carpet for what felt like days. I had lost hope and I was about to do the unthinkable. I somehow felt deep in my core I could never be loved and in return never love anyone again. The next day I went to my doctors office and officially started on anti-depressants and the beginning of three years of intensive cognitive therapy. I was blue for years and gave myself to anyone that would show me love and then was rejected time and time again. Why? Well the answer was because I hid that I was suffering for years with depression. I was also seen as the upbeat guy who was the life of the party. Inside I felt in secure and scared that anyone could find out my "nasty secret"... DEPRESSION. If I ever showed the darker side of me people would ask me to stop being down and perk up. Like that ever worked. It is still relatively new to speak so openly about such topics; Depression is a devastating thing that can eat you from the inside out. It is like this spinning ball of disease that will twist your core and when it is done you can be left a shell of who you are meant to be. your light will burn out and you will find out that you have no hope left. Steve lost his hope. He hid it well from the world and the he touched the people that surrounded him and yet somehow never saw that if he had dropped hiss guard we would have all been here to support him. If I had not had the support of of the few people including, ironically, Steve to see me into my after therapy life, I would not be here today. I like the guy I am now. I live my truth. I am married to an amazing man who gets me and understands how I am built, for the most part. I have 4 furry kids and yes Dutchess is still sitting by my side these years later to whine and cuddle. I have an extended family and nieces that brighten my world. I am the closest to my family I have ever been. I have chosen to chase blues and to embrace that I am a person that suffers and lives with depression. But also choose to laugh. I love to laugh at least once a day and every night I count my blessings. Thank you Dutchess of saving me. Thank you Steve for letting my life be touched by you. I miss our conversations and I miss your laugh and the way you brought joy to any space you were. You inspired me to learn about wine and cruises. You will not be forgotten....

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