Never, never, never give up...

I am quoting from a letter and response written in a forum for the mentally ill.  In a response to a 19 year-old suffering with severe depression, a fellow sufferer wrote the response in my title.  I could relate to both people.  I have been on both ends of that commentary.  As the 19 year-old talked about, I have been the one lying in bed all day unable to face the ‘reality’ of my life.  I have been the one who felt so depressed, I wished that I could find the courage to kill myself.  I have also been the person who responded.  I remember telling people to “never, never, never” give up.  I also have had other people tell me the same thing.  Which goes to the core of my blog post today.  It led me to question how much those types of responses have helped me survive the worst of times.  For me, they have been very helpful.  I look for a sense of hope in the people I talk with. I look for the people who tell me that there is something to live for.  I look for support.  

Does it always work?  Obviously not.  People commit suicide.  It does happen.  People become so miserable that they choose death over life.  What makes me different?  I am not sure.  I know that there are times that I feel so hopeless that I wish I could die.  But I never make the choice to act on it.  Most of the time, I believe that it lies in having something or someone to live for.  I have my daughter.  She is the light of my life.  I want to be here for her.  And I don’t want her to have to live with the legacy of the suicide of a parent.  I want to protect her from pain.  I want to show her that mental illness doesn’t have to rule...or end...your life.  I want her to recognize that there is always hope.  I want to be here for every second that we have together. Come what may. That is the love part. That is having something bigger to live for.

I also had a powerful example in my Dad.  In a lifetime filled with the stress of living with a mentally ill woman, he was extraordinarily graceful.  He lived in love.  He lived in responsibility.  He showed me what grace was.  Did he get angry?  Yes.  Many times. Did he lose hope?  I am sure he did, although I know he tried to avoid sharing that with me. For the most part. So, whenever I am hopeless, I use his example as a way to remind myself that there is always hope.  I am also reminded that there is grace in living in love. When I think about how I felt about Dad, he also reminds me about how much I missed him when he died shortly after I got married.  Which leads me back to my daughter.  

So, I guess  what I have, that some others don’t, is two connections that are more powerful than pain.  And the ability to recognize that. Thankfully, I also have friends that are more than willing to remind me about those connections. And who remind me that they love me in the process. That is another potent reason to stay alive.  Love is important. I never want to lose the people who love me. So, I listen. And then I remember that in spite of the depression, and the tricks that my mind is playing on me, I am incredibly blessed.  Not everybody has the love that I find a reason for survival. Not everybody has a support system. Or the example that I found in my Dad.  

What keeps you alive in spite of your depression?  What inspires you?  Who or what do you rely on when your biochemistry is making your continued existence uncertain?  How do you remind yourself that life is truly worth living?  I would love to hear from you. Which brings me back to my initial question.  What is the reason that I keep on keeping on?  Because I want to share my experience, strength, and hope with you.  I believe that mental illness and depression are something to be dealt with. We have tools. We can survive. Thank you for joining me on my journey.