I saw a star beneath the stairs glowing bright before descent

It’s been, awhile hasn’t it? And what can I say? A lot. A late-night entry because at the time I’m wanting to just write. Have I been well since my last entry? Yes and no. May 21st, I slipped into another bout of depression and while I could sit here and talk about it I’d rather not. No use in bringing it back up. And already this month I have. While May didn’t hit me hard, this did. Harder than it has in a long while. This was no ordinary bout of depression either. This was it, this was me giving up at this point. I was tired of fighting back the desire to cut. I wanted to end the six plus years of sobriety of being cut free. I quit counting. I don’t know why but I never removed shards of broken glass from under rug in my bedroom. I never thought to use them, but I never removed them. I suppose I just forgot they were there until I really wanted them. June 4th, I wanted to do it. Cut. I was done fighting the ongoing battle that I deal with while being in the state of mind I was in. This pain hurt too much and I was weary with the battle and raging war.

The shards of glass were remembered and I uncovered the rug from the floor and began studying the shard of glasses. I had found that perfect piece that would do its job. I wanted to feel that familiar sting and the release of pain I had felt so long ago. Its glistening clear edges calling out my name. I took it in my hand and got up on the bed and began to just cry all over again. I was done I wanted to do this. I let the glass to my ankle and stopped. In a message to a friend I had all means of doing so and I told her what was wrong. She did something that likely helped me in a way that I never expected. I couldn’t stop crying because I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t cut myself and I wanted to. I felt like a failure and I felt like I wasn’t good enough at this point. I just need to do this and let it out of my system. I still couldn’t do so and I hated myself for not cutting and for thinking about it and almost wanting to. I felt conflicted, and I felt as if I couldn’t breathe, metaphorically of course. This is something I deal with each time I’m struck with bouts of depression and I had finally hit that point in the storm where I was done fighting the struggle to stay afloat in a flood I have no control over.

In all my years of sobriety of being cut free and choosing not to cut any longer have I ever hit this low point in my life. I couldn’t even tell you why I hit this breaking point and what made me snap– I just wanted to cut. I wanted to end this conflict, and the battle of fighting the desire. It wasn’t working and I realized one thing. I was far too strong to do this. I reached out that night to a total stranger through The Crisis Text Line. Kennedy that night listened to me and helped me tremendously. I went over to Instagram Live and just went live to talk about how I felt, and one person joined in that six minutes and gave me words of encouragement and listened. That night Kevin learned a dark secret about me. Both methods helped. The glass I had been wishing to cut with was no longer my enemy and I was no longer either. It was later that night when Kennedy and I concluded on text conversation did I realize I felt better. Once more I took to Instagram Live and spoke for thirteen minutes in darkness. No one joined this time, and I didn’t care.

Picking up that piece of glass from where I had laid it, upon the nightstand, I took it to the kitchen and trashed it. It was in that moment I realized this old habit had no power over me. I was in control and I was a fighter. I had come this far and I could keep on going. I could fight this. This is all I have ever known. Fight. Keep hoping. Don’t give up. Live another day, weather the storm, and go with the ebb and tides of my bouts of depression. I have never been medicated or diagnosed with depression, but I am aware I have it, and it can hit me hard and at any given time. It’s something I have learned to live with and I have simply self-medicated in my own way, and if that means battling myself so much that I become stronger each day then so be it. June 4th, I realized how strong I had become and how much I love myself for not giving in as I would have felt such shame and regret. I would have hated myself for the cuts I made upon myself that night. I have fought for almost twenty years of my life with depression and it the worst of my depression is behind me. I’m able to make it through another day and get up and attempt to live my daily life.

The next day I was numb and tired from an emotional hangover, puffy eyes, and a headache. I simply couldn’t bring myself out of the bed. One-thirty in the afternoon I finally rolled out of bed. I had a shitty job to go to. I had to go, I had to get up and attempt to continue with my life and make this shitty four hours. I had to face the world. I got up and washed my face, and the cool water felt refreshing. In bed, I sent a simple comment to a favorite actor’s Instagram post, and as I was washing my face I looked to my phone and he had liked the comment–Josh Duhamel had liked my comment. That was it, it put a smile on my face. That simple trivial gesture helped in a small way and I felt like I could go on and continue my day and be normal citizen who seems as if she’s the happiest girl alive. I got dressed and drove to Starbucks and got my usual drink and a sandwich. Music playing along the way there and I believe that I had Eric Church going. As the day progressed I began to feel better and I began to feel alive again and not as dead inside. I realized the war that I had raged upon myself I had won, I had fought with every fiber of my being with a little help from a stranger and a friend. I realized I am a fighter and I can make it through every damn storm. I can make it through the ebb and tides of my life. While I may never be able to sever the thoughts of cutting, I have come so far in battling those desires and I’ll keep on fighting. It feels good to know that I have something inside me that wants to fight, that wants to keep on going.