The Dark Days

There are days when it feels like all the progress I have made just fades away and I am left back at my broken beginning. I become overwhelmed, my thoughts become hectic and scattered and I shut down. I can’t make sense of my thoughts or emotions and I feel completely drained. Even the most basic communication and tasks feel daunting and require an exorbitant amount of effort. I lose the ability to interact with others. I can’t even fake a smile. There is a point when I become physically incapable of doing anything at all, which triggers the guilt and shame associated with being unproductive. I try to put up a good fight, but I can’t resist the pull of the downward spiral. Sometimes I get sucked in so deep that my brain gets invaded with thoughts of ending it all. I go to this hopeless place where I become convinced that I have no fight left inside me, that I can never truly win the battle. If this darkness can still creep in even though my life is everything I could have ever wanted it to be, how can I ever expect to be free of it? On a few rare occasions, my brain has started to draft a plan. The narrative in my mind takes a sharp turn and my highly emotional, dark thoughts begin to sound logical. There are moments of eery clarity in which suicide appears to be the most feasible and responsible solution. I’m not sure if true happiness is possible. It’s an exhausting pursuit. I’m so tired of chasing something unattainable. I don’t think of taking my own life as something to be sad about, I think about it as liberation. I have an incredible life. I have worked hard for a lot of what I have and a good portion of my amazing life simply comes down to luck. I’m grateful for all of it. But I’m tired. I used to want to live forever. Now I’m overwhelmed by the idea of having to keep all of this up for another forty plus years. It doesn’t seem feasible. I’m only in my thirties and I’m already this worn out. How am I expected to sustain this? The world is crumbling around us; there is destruction and cruelty everywhere you look. I find myself becoming increasingly frustrated with all of it. I try not to think about it, try to focus on the things I can control. But I still have to live in this madness. I still have to conform to the bullshit to survive. So, it’s hard not to let it get to me. I feel like I have used up my lifetime supply of happiness, my entire tank of ambition. I have nothing left. Not everyone needs to, or is meant to, live to old age. I used to be so full of hope. I used to see myself thriving, even into my nineties. Not anymore. I don’t know what changed but I want out.

I’m not sure I would label myself as suicidal. I don’t look at death as a means to end my pain or escape my problems. I don’t think I’m in any pain. I just don’t see the point anymore. I have been getting better at self-care, at setting boundaries and at putting myself first. But, as awful as it sounds, the reason I haven’t ended it is because I don’t want my loved ones to go through that. I don’t want to cause them such pain. I’m not living for me, I’m living for them. Maybe my expectations are just too high. I have everything I want, everything I need. I wouldn’t change anything about my life. Logically, I know this. I should be so happy, but I’m not and I don’t get it. I wish I could just let it go. To stop searching for that elated feeling. To just settle in and enjoy my life. I feel content. I have moments of pure joy. Maybe that is all there is. Maybe I’m unrealistic to think I can be completely happy.

I am fortunate that these moments have been fleeting. Sometimes, a ray of light breaks through the darkness just long enough to remind me how much I have to live for. Other times, I put aside the thoughts of suicide simply because I decide my loved ones don’t deserve that kind of hurt. Regardless of the motive, the moment passes and I come up for air.

Although I don’t always recognize it right away, I am far better equipped to handle these dark days now that I have a better understanding of my mental health, and of myself in general. The old me would have kept it all inside. I would have blamed myself for not being strong enough to simply push through or get over it. I probably would have fought it with everything I had and used distraction to push it away. In the end, this would lead to lingering symptoms and eventually a much more catastrophic breakdown. Now, I really try to focus on self-compassion. I’m slowly getting better at just letting it happen and taking a break. I still find it difficult to accept that some things on my list won’t get done, but I do let myself have a lazy afternoon, or even a full day, if I need it. I share it now too. I don’t broadcast it to the world, but I will confide in my husband, and sometimes a close friend or two, and let them know that I’m struggling. I also let myself cry. It used to be very difficult for me to cry. I would be much more likely to scream or break something than cry. I associated crying with weakness, and I refused to be weak. It got to the point that even when I knew I needed a good cry, the tears wouldn’t come. Over the years, I have become much more comfortable with crying, and I now recognize its healing power.

These hard days sometimes seem to come out of nowhere. I can be feeling really good about life and then it’s like a switch goes off and I’m suddenly under this dark cloud. Not understanding why it was happening used to drive me crazy, it perpetuated the frustration. Now I am much more aware of contributing factors. One major one being hormones. My reaction to events and my ability to manage stressors can be entirely different depending on where I am in my cycle. Logically, this makes sense, but it is always hard to recognize it when I’m in the depths of a downward spiral. I am also resistant to this explanation as it feels like an excuse, a cop-out. Admitting to the power of hormones means admitting that I’m not in complete control. I am still working on accepting that I am not insusceptible to the influence of my hormones. Upcoming trips or house guests are a trigger for me. Even when I am really looking forward to it, the preparation often evokes panic. The need to be organized can be overwhelming. Small deviations from my routine or plan and clutter or disorganization at home can also stir things up for me. Unpredictable or extreme weather weighs heavily on me as well. Then there are the common assailants: not getting enough sleep, fresh air or exercise, insufficient daylight in the winter, an ongoing global pandemic, too much alcohol or junk food. Often, it’s a cumulative effect. A couple of these things at a time is usually manageable. But when they start to build up, my ability to cope diminishes. The tricky part is that these things can be going on in the background without me noticing, so sometimes it’s hard for me to recognize their influence. Now I know that I have to consciously take a step back and evaluate to understand where the dark cloud came from. The explanation itself can help stop the downward trajectory and self-compassion is what eventually pulls me out of it.