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There was a time, in the grand scheme of things it wasn’t that long ago, when my head was so fucking loud.
At any given second there were a thousand things all competing for a space on my mind. There was drama, loathing, negativity …
I hated everyone but most of all, above everything else, I hated myself.
I absolutely couldn’t stand myself and anytime a moment of pride, a good thought, a feeling of something well deserved, managed to sneak in … it only made me dig that dagger deeper.
I suffered from crippling depression. Killing myself was an almost daily thought although I never acted on it because I didn’t think I was worth the effort it would take to clean up.
It was more that I just wanted to disappear.
I wanted to go away but I wanted to do so in the least evasive way possible. Lest I find myself further inconveniencing others with my life, or lack thereof.
I couldn’t let myself have good things. In my mind I deserved the bad, I brought it down on myself like a wayward child purposely toppling case after case of books on themselves.
It hurt, I knew it would hurt but in my mind I deserved it.
And then one day something happened.
Something from my past came forward to find me. The universe so eloquently dropped it right into my lap and reminded me that you can’t run from things that are meant to be a part of you.
I don’t know that I had ever cried as hard as I did in that moment.
I don’t know that I had ever felt the relief that I did in that moment.
I don’t know that I had ever felt anything in the way that I did in that moment.
After that I learned the art of being still and being quiet. I learned how to quiet my mind and how to bring myself peace. I learned to be ok with the times where I falter, because everybody makes mistakes. Everybody has days and moments and honestly that’s life with depression. It’s up and down and all around sometimes. I learned to steer myself instead of letting the noise in my head take the wheel.
All of this comes into sharp focus for me when I see things on TV that seem to glamorize things like suicide. TV shows that attempt to show it and explain it but do so in such teenage drama ways that they miss the point. Or when I see mass destruction, people driven by forces that are purely evil, raining terror down on others.
And I see ways that we could help these things, ways we could have real conversations but it’s fashionable, in some circles it seems, to be loud, to let the noise take the wheel. Those conversations will never happen when the noise is driving.
I don’t know how to implore the world to be still, to think, to be quiet then speak. I don’t know if we can and I honestly don’t if it would help but these days it seems like maybe the need for noise should fall out of fashion.
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