My Lowest

*Trigger Warning: Suicide*

Self improvement has always been important to me. But in August, self improvement shot up my list of priorities; no longer was it important, it was critical. I remember being in the shower, absolutely shrouded by a swarm of demons. I kept looking at the pale skin of my arms, I could see the blue veins running up my wrist. I thought, “One slice. One vertical slice, and I’m free.”

This was the first time such a powerful and real thought of suicide had entered my mind. Death seemed alluring, it seemed like the ultimate comfort, it seemed like the best solution in those seconds. The next few hours and days would be filled with small miracles that would save me from myself.

Had I been by myself that day, I can’t say that I would be here. But I remember my roommate was home for some reason, and I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead I curled up in bed and prayed, I begged for comfort. And when I was ready, I left my room and let my roommate know I was struggling. My roommates are honestly a godsend. Sometimes I struggle to open up to people when I’m feeling depressed, but when I open up to my roommates, I never regret it. They listen, they love. I’m forever grateful for them. The fact that I’m blessed with them is nothing short of a miracle. The fact that Nanette was home that day, even though she didn’t realize it, saved my life.

From about August to October, I was at my lowest of lows. I felt like a stranger in my head, I felt like an intruder in my own body. I felt selfish for wanting out of my life full of love, beautiful people, potential, and goodness. I felt tired of fighting for it, though. I didn’t have a good reason for feeling what I was feeling. I didn’t feel like there was a particular reason I was feeling the way I was feeling.

Climbing My Way Out

Depression is like a trench. If you aren’t actively trying to climb out of the trench, you’ll just stay in it, at the lowest point. Sad, lonely, helpless. It became my immediate priority to find a counselor and schedule an appointment with my psychiatrist to reevaluate my medication. In the past when I’ve looked for a counselor, it’s been nearly impossible to get an appointment sooner than four weeks out. Somehow (read: by God’s hand), I found a counselor who could get me in that week. When I called to schedule my appointment, I didn’t talk to a secretary, I talked directly to the counselor. I think he could feel the urgency in my voice. And I felt like he was going to help me.

My psychiatrist doubled my dose of Cymbalta, the anti-depressant I’ve been using since May 2016. My supervisors at work were extremely patient with me as I started seeing a counselor once a week, another blessing that I am forever grateful for.

I’ve tried counseling in the past. One experience was OK, another was terrible. Going into my third try, I was really hoping I would feel a connection with this person. I didn’t want to go in and vent,  I needed to learn how to take back the thoughts in my brain from the selfish darkness that was running the show.

Mr. S (at least that’s what we’ll call him here), walked out of the office. He was younger than my previous counselors, and he seemed friendly. One of the first things Mr. S asked was what type of counseling I was looking for. Did I just need to come in and talk about stuff, or did I want to learn how to deal with the things I was struggling with? Number 2. Emphatically. Another blessing. The one counselor I called, who happened to have an immediate opening, was ready to give me the type of counseling I REALLY NEEDED.

I’ve been working with Mr. S for about six months now. Thus far, the experience has been nothing short of transformative for me. Mr. S has challenged me to work hard to rebuild myself without using negative relationships as a crutch. He’s challenged me to use Wellness, Darling as sort of a journal for the whole process, too.

If you’ve been a reader in the past (thank you!), I usually share tips and motivational messages. For now though, I’ll be documenting my rebuilding process. It might be a little more raw than what you’ve seen here in the past. You can follow along or not. This process is for me. I’m tired of being a victim to my life and mental illness, I’m proactively working to save myself. Let the rebuilding begin. <3



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