This winter, for a solid 3 month span, I heartily endured an internal struggle of reasonable intensity. Things have since stabilized, however, I'm opting to share a bit of my experience in the name of personal closure. Perhaps the reader will find resonance with my words, maybe this will help someone who is presently struggling with the same insurmountable sensation of isolation as I, or perhaps it'll merely serve as an intriguing read.
The sensation crept up quietly, beginning innocently enough with a whiff of nostalgia. A few months ago, I started missing every place, person, and feeling I'd ever experienced. Memories of riding bikes through the summer streets of Canmore, venturing off paths into the soft moss and greenery of the forest, tirelessly drinking beers and hacking darts beside the river to the raucous (or deliciously tender) melodies spilling from a guitar/harmonica duo. We ate whatever fresh fruits and veggies we could afford, danced frequently, slept wherever, and those of us who had jobs mostly made it to work on time. Sickeningly typical bohemian youth business.
Particular moments stood out: the night I fell in love with the stars as the earth cradled me, observing a meteor shower. Four of us on our backs, minuscule specks on the globe's surface, encapsulated within this massive celestial expanse. Resting our heads on one another's bellies and laughing about everything.
These are the sort of memories I would dredge up as I faced the present reality of my life: several grand in debt, relinquishing weekends to work two jobs, and somehow still finding time to tipple in various substances that would keep me awake enough to continue raving (essentially until I had to be at work in the morning). Somehow it was working, I was paying rent, having fun, and maintaining employment. It was rather silly to attempt this lifestyle, much less to maintain it. Surprisingly enough [sarcasm], everything abruptly started sucking. I could no longer function at work after a full night of electro magic, so I quit one of my jobs. Now that I had more time for partying and sleeping I proceeded to mostly party and not sleep.
Things were reaching their peak as I lost control and gave in to my hypomanic mind, stripped of all reasoning, everything was erratic, nothing was certain. And then the substances stopped working... at least they weren't working in the manner they'd previously been. In full disclosure I would never identify with the title of "drug addict." It wasn't the drugs I was addicted to, it was the music, dancing, and good company [which was equally enjoyable in sobriety, given proper rest and nourishment.] There was no 'pining for the next fix', I was merely consuming the bare minimum of what had to be consumed in order to dance all night on the weekends (until I started going out on Tuesdays... and then Thursdays... and then most days). Until my brain started to say no in a very big way. Excitement turned anxiety, and while I was successfully awake and dancing, the ever expanding awareness of a gaping void within me was becoming very difficult to ignore.
For some months my self-image has been that of a positive, exuberant, easy-going little wisp. As a person who was decidedly optimistic and not prone to sadness, it was difficult to accept that I was sad and only becoming sadder. I began to experience extreme bouts of anxiety which birthed difficulty in my ability to work and/or leave my apartment. Nothing was good, everything was bland. My psyche was a tornado comprised of angry sharks. I felt undesirable, ugly, unpleasant. I was broke as fuck due to my decreased income and increased spending on cabs and cover. I would later learn to flag these thoughts and emotions as the beginning of the post-manic "crash phase" of bipolar disorder.
I didn't want to talk to my friends about the awfulness, as none of them could fix the Chinese finger trap of trouble I'd nestled into. I didn't feel entitled to my feelings. I didn't want to be a burden. I didn't want sympathy. I didn't really want to die, but I most certainly wasn't keen on being alive. I didn't want my parents to worry or demand that I seek professional help.
The worst bit was the awareness that I had knowingly brought myself to this place. I was too intelligent for this, I'd already figured this out. It was as though I'd fallen into a frozen lake, crawled out, dried off, strapped cinder blocks to myself and wandered back onto the ice. Idiot. Of course this hyper-self-critical mindset didn't do much in terms of aiding my crumbling happiness; I was enraged with myself for feeling sorry for myself despite the self-inflicted nature of my condition.
And so the spiral continued on it's downward path as the brightly burning supernova within me capsized, giving way to an irresistible black hole. I started to wonder if I was breaching the dam of sanity and began to contemplate throwing myself from the 4th Ave flyover.
And so the spiral continued on it's downward path as the brightly burning supernova within me capsized, giving way to an irresistible black hole. I started to wonder if I was breaching the dam of sanity and began to contemplate throwing myself from the 4th Ave flyover.
I was obsessed with this scenario: the sound my pacing footsteps would make as I worked up the nerve to do it. Quickly mounting the concrete barrier and swiftly pushing off before I could further contemplate or riak interference. And then falling. The falling bit would be a fleeting rush. Gelid ice water. Last minute second thoughts. Relief. Euphoria. Obliteration. I pondered this all day, every day.
Of course everyone would take it personally. My disqualification from the human race would be viewed as an individually targeted assault of the most selfish nature to many. All of this would be insignificant for me, as I simply wouldn't be. How could I possibly alert anyone to the fact that I was consumed by this ridiculously selfish notion?!
In the midst of all this, some little crumb of my former self started to rattle about in my skull. It began to demand attention. It gathered the dead twigs and leaves of my thoughts and built a fire. As the fire died, smoke signals delineating "SOS" appeared. The most minuscule fibre of myself wanted help, it wasn't going to take this whole extermination business lying down.
Between the determined little speck that was S.O.S-ing as hard as it could, and the indefatigable urge to drop everything and die; Everything was far too overwhelming to be immured within my head any longer and I began to overflow. I quietly opened dialogue with a handful of friends regarding my inner scuffle.
It turns out I've surrounded myself with some of the most formidable folks on earth. While it was difficult to articulate my struggle, I got the point across. My helplessness was met with an abundance of support and understanding, which I thought was pretty neat considering most of the individuals with whom I decided to share this matter hadn't experienced anything similar to what I was enduring.
I've made a bombastic turnaround if I do say so myself. I'm balancing sleep, work, socializing, and raving in a very effective fashion... that is to say: I'm actually staying in and sleeping when I need to stay in and sleep. I'm nourishing myself with healthy foods, I'm spending time actually connecting with so many fascinating friends, I'm producing coffee and smoothies and not hating every moment of it.
...And I'm writing this, which is monumental in terms of me winning the me vs. me showdown. I'm no longer judging myself or feeling ashamed of 'feeling-bad-for-no-real-reason'. Regardless of reason, I was ready to scrap myself essentially because I wasn't willing to shoot a simple text message [at the very least] to someone who cared. This is really not an OK thing and there are definitely others out there nursing these feels and feeling very isolated. I think that it's extremely important that as individuals, and as a collective society, we make some serious moves towards reaching out to one another, being understanding, and cultivating a reality in which mental health troubles are not seen as horrifying beasts/white elephants/indications of insanity which can only be remedied by professionals. But rather, as an aspect of being human with which we all may or may not grapple from time to time.
I find it quite fascinating; the manner in which we humans attempt to distance ourselves from the very things that make us alive; feelings, ageing, using our minds and our bodies.
Anyways... I wrote this thing and now I'm publicising it.
And I'm ok with this.
And I'm now so painfully aware that any of the hundreds of people I encounter every day when I am out and about could have a heavy heart.
I would never know....
But perhaps a little openness or a kind gesture might lighten their burden just a little bit.
And maybe we could all do with a little less weight on our shoulders.
And if you happen to read this, and you're experiencing anything remotely close to what I have described...
I know it may seem like the most impossibly difficult task: putting your thoughts into words and wrestling those words from your mouth, but the alternative solitary misery is also very difficult, if not more. There are always people who are willing to listen, even if you have to call a 1-800 number to reach them.
"As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being."
-Carl Jung
And if you find yourself in a position where someone is expressing notions of suicidal ideation, depression, or whatever manifestation their struggle may choose to assume, here are some things that you can do:
-Listening without any motive other than truly hearing and absorbing the individuals words.
-Creating a non-threatening, safe space for this person.
-Hugging (if this seems like a permissible approach AND you've obtained consent)
-Letting said person know that you are available for listening and hugging when required.
-Supporting positive life changes that said person may be considering.
-Affirming that said person is cared for and valued.
Of course everyone would take it personally. My disqualification from the human race would be viewed as an individually targeted assault of the most selfish nature to many. All of this would be insignificant for me, as I simply wouldn't be. How could I possibly alert anyone to the fact that I was consumed by this ridiculously selfish notion?!
In the midst of all this, some little crumb of my former self started to rattle about in my skull. It began to demand attention. It gathered the dead twigs and leaves of my thoughts and built a fire. As the fire died, smoke signals delineating "SOS" appeared. The most minuscule fibre of myself wanted help, it wasn't going to take this whole extermination business lying down.
Between the determined little speck that was S.O.S-ing as hard as it could, and the indefatigable urge to drop everything and die; Everything was far too overwhelming to be immured within my head any longer and I began to overflow. I quietly opened dialogue with a handful of friends regarding my inner scuffle.
It turns out I've surrounded myself with some of the most formidable folks on earth. While it was difficult to articulate my struggle, I got the point across. My helplessness was met with an abundance of support and understanding, which I thought was pretty neat considering most of the individuals with whom I decided to share this matter hadn't experienced anything similar to what I was enduring.
I've made a bombastic turnaround if I do say so myself. I'm balancing sleep, work, socializing, and raving in a very effective fashion... that is to say: I'm actually staying in and sleeping when I need to stay in and sleep. I'm nourishing myself with healthy foods, I'm spending time actually connecting with so many fascinating friends, I'm producing coffee and smoothies and not hating every moment of it.
...And I'm writing this, which is monumental in terms of me winning the me vs. me showdown. I'm no longer judging myself or feeling ashamed of 'feeling-bad-for-no-real-reason'. Regardless of reason, I was ready to scrap myself essentially because I wasn't willing to shoot a simple text message [at the very least] to someone who cared. This is really not an OK thing and there are definitely others out there nursing these feels and feeling very isolated. I think that it's extremely important that as individuals, and as a collective society, we make some serious moves towards reaching out to one another, being understanding, and cultivating a reality in which mental health troubles are not seen as horrifying beasts/white elephants/indications of insanity which can only be remedied by professionals. But rather, as an aspect of being human with which we all may or may not grapple from time to time.
I find it quite fascinating; the manner in which we humans attempt to distance ourselves from the very things that make us alive; feelings, ageing, using our minds and our bodies.
Anyways... I wrote this thing and now I'm publicising it.
And I'm ok with this.
And I'm now so painfully aware that any of the hundreds of people I encounter every day when I am out and about could have a heavy heart.
I would never know....
But perhaps a little openness or a kind gesture might lighten their burden just a little bit.
And maybe we could all do with a little less weight on our shoulders.
And if you happen to read this, and you're experiencing anything remotely close to what I have described...
I know it may seem like the most impossibly difficult task: putting your thoughts into words and wrestling those words from your mouth, but the alternative solitary misery is also very difficult, if not more. There are always people who are willing to listen, even if you have to call a 1-800 number to reach them.
"As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being."
-Carl Jung
And if you find yourself in a position where someone is expressing notions of suicidal ideation, depression, or whatever manifestation their struggle may choose to assume, here are some things that you can do:
-Listening without any motive other than truly hearing and absorbing the individuals words.
-Creating a non-threatening, safe space for this person.
-Hugging (if this seems like a permissible approach AND you've obtained consent)
-Letting said person know that you are available for listening and hugging when required.
-Supporting positive life changes that said person may be considering.
-Affirming that said person is cared for and valued.
-Being patient... It can take any amount of time for things to improve.
-Allowing said person to feel what their feeling.
Things that I found were not at all helpful:
-Belittling/judging said persons difficulty "That's not so bad... at least you're not half devoured by bears right now!"
-Attempting to eclipse this persons troubles with your own.
-Avoiding said person, because they are such a bummer to be around.
-Trying to wrestle answers out of said person regarding the source of their sadness.
-Feeding said person intoxicating substances (no, you don't control what they choose to put into their body, but purchasing endless rounds of shots for someone who's toying with the idea of self-obliteration is probably not going to result in happy times.)
-Allowing said person to feel what their feeling.
Things that I found were not at all helpful:
-Belittling/judging said persons difficulty "That's not so bad... at least you're not half devoured by bears right now!"
-Attempting to eclipse this persons troubles with your own.
-Avoiding said person, because they are such a bummer to be around.
-Trying to wrestle answers out of said person regarding the source of their sadness.
-Feeding said person intoxicating substances (no, you don't control what they choose to put into their body, but purchasing endless rounds of shots for someone who's toying with the idea of self-obliteration is probably not going to result in happy times.)
Alright... That's all for now!
<3
