It gets better.

I've struggled all week with the decision to write this post. I decided in favor, because if there's someone out here who by chance stumbles upon this who is where I was just a few short weeks ago, I want them to know they can get where I am now. I have never in my life felt more alive than I do right now. I'm making better decisions for my mind, my body, and my life than I ever have. I'm enjoying everything more - the good weather, the bad weather, time spent with friends, time spent alone. Would it surprise you to know that less than a month ago, I intended to take my own life? I have struggled with depression and thoughts of suicide almost as far back as I can remember. How much is chemical deficiencies and how much is scars of a horrific childhood, I'll never know, and I'm not sure it matters. I've exhausted my options for legitimate medication - hard to get help when you're uninsured. Before and in between cycles of meds I tried self-medication. First cutting, then drinking, then sex, then back to cutting. A close friend and devout practitioner of "tough love" found out and read me the riot act. When I asked what I was supposed to say, he told me to say that I'm better than that. Yeah. I am better than that. So I stopped. But it didn't mean that I was better. For the first time in my life, it wasn't just that I didn't want to live, or that I wanted to die. I had reached the planning stages. I had established where and how and was just fine-tuning the when of my suicide. The plan became the foremost thought in my mind. I clung to it like a child to a blanket, focused on it like a runner eying the finish line. Just a little longer, I told myself, and you won't have to do this anymore. I wish I could say that I had some instant miracle that saved me, that changed my heart and my mind. I didn't. I don't know what happened, exactly. I know that part of it was that my plan required more money than I had at the time, so I had to keep myself busy for a while. I found distractions, things to focus on. My hockey team made the playoffs. I decided - and why? I don't know - to start exercising. I know that exercise made a huge difference in my life. For one thing, it turned my loneliness into solitude; I can't stand working out in front of people and relished having the time and space to sweat and strain on my own. Also, exercising releases endorphins. Don't believe me? Right now, I want you to get up and move. Put on your favorite up-tempo song and do jumping jacks or push ups, jog around the house, dance, just do something. And when the song ends, get a drink of water, sit down, let your heart slow back down, and tell me you don't feel better. I read a book called Veronika Decides to Die, about a woman who tries to commit suicide. The ending was kind of predictable, but the message was worth it. Somewhere along the line I realized that if I can choose to die, I can choose to live, too. Really live, not just exist. Push myself beyond my own limits and see what I find. It's not perfect. I still have bad days. I still feel sad. I still cry when I'm hurting, and yes - I'm still hurting. But I'm not dying anymore, and I don't want to be. I won't make any promises that I can't keep. I may be winning the battle against this last major depressive episode, but the war isn't over. What I can promise is that I won't make the same mistakes I did this last time. If I ever feel that way again, I WILL get help. I'll call the suicide hotline. I'll call people who have helped me in the past. I'll talk to my doctor. I won't drink - I believe that I can handle drinking and I haven't been excessive lately, but alcohol is a depressant and when I'm down it only takes me deeper. I won't give up. Because it gets better. I'm getting better. And if you're reading this, you can get better too. Believe in yourself. And if you can't do that, believe in the me that believes in you.