when you think you've had too much... of this life, well hang on

Thursday, 12/10/15, 10:34pm, Friday, 12/11/15, 8:33am

This evening was... tough. I ended up getting depressed this evening around dinner time. I think I was about to go over the edge all day. It was awful, not the worst, but debilitating none the less.

But. I was supposed to go to my choir dress rehearsal tonight. It's a required rehearsal, one that if you miss, you don't get to participate in the upcoming concerts. Looking back, I can't believe that I seriously considered not going. I love the songs we're singing, and the holiday concerts are usually my favorite. And yet. I was in bad enough shape that I was telling Nasser, "forget it. I won't go and I just won't sing at the concerts. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters."

Somehow, I'm still not sure how, I pulled myself back out of bed, gathering up used tissues, and applied some fancy eye treatments for puffy eyes. I went.

I kept to myself for the first half of rehearsal. I usually keep to myself, even though people are really friendly in choir. I'm not exactly all too close to the median age (most of the choir is retirement age), but I just haven't bonded super close with very many people there in the last 3 years or so I've been in the choir. Recently I actually opened up about my depression to the artistic director. I technically missed more rehearsals than I was allowed (due to several nights of depressive episodes), so I emailed her and explained my situation a little. It's a little easier to tell someone about it over email rather than in person. I don't know; I think I don't like seeing people's first reactions to my news. I guess I worry about judgement or even surprise.

Anyway, we took a break at rehearsal. Often I don't talk to anyone during break. But this time, I asked a fellow alto how she was doing and how her week was going. Turns out she has a coworker who committed suicide last weekend. She was telling me about how awful and sad it was and how hard this week has been for everyone at her work. I decided to tell her that I have depression. The reason I told her is because of things like suicide, we need to talk about mental illness more. Her coworker was actually quite vocal about his depression, but suffered for many years, and seemed worse these last few months.

This is actually the second very recent suicide I've heard about this week. The other situation was a high school student who my friend's sister taught. The recommendation I gave there was that the teacher could use this as an opportunity to talk about mental illness with the other students, to try and break down the stigma so that maybe next time a student feels comfortable enough to get help. The best (perhaps only good) thing to come out of an awful tragedy like suicide, is for the those left behind to become mental health advocates.

I have a hard time when people say that suicide is "selfish". I understand that it hurts the people left behind enormously and that perhaps the person committing suicide doesn't think about those consequences. But for me, when I've felt suicidal, I've felt that everyone whose life I touch would be better off without me here. I think that I'm ruining the lives of everyone around me by existing. Sure, those thoughts make no logical sense whatsoever, but in that state, I *know* those things to be true. There is no question in my mind. In that state, I would hardly call my feelings selfish. I can't claim that other people in a suicidal state feel the same way I do, but I think there's so much more to suicide than feelings of selfishness. And if you say that suicide is "selfish", why wouldn't depression be intrinsically selfish? Based on what I live everyday, I don't consider it to be. My depression is much more about how I feel I'm failing in every aspect of my life and I'm failing the people around me. Depression is bigger than some petty feelings of selfishness. And honestly, I think we're failing the person who committed suicide by saying that their act was "selfish". That ignores the illness they were suffering. That ignores the feelings and emotions the person had that were bigger than them. Bigger than life itself unfortunately.

I grieve for those people who lost their fight with their mental illness. I grieve for their loved ones who are left behind. It is a senseless tragedy because mental illness doesn't really have any logical sense. There's certainly little logic to who mental illness strikes.

I guess the best we can do is to keep talking about it. We need to break down the stigma, we need to change our culture to be more supportive of what people suffer. It all starts with talking about it. So I talk.