The Climb Out

If only we could all be as full of awesome as this sloth

So, it’s honesty time.

Shit got bad this weekend. Shit started going bad last week, but Sunday was the lowest point I’ve had in a long time.

The feeling of being a worthless fuck-up kept snowballing from Thursday. It was so huge, by Saturday I was one deep, barely contained panic attack. I fought it. I tried to ignore it. I tried to logic my way through it. I tried to fix it. I made plans.

By Sunday morning, I had a plan. I had my steps to help fix things, and I was finally ready to talk about it. Let’s say shit didn’t go well and leave it at that. Things kept piling on, and I was sure I wasn’t up to it. Everything I had done to try and fix things had failed. I felt alone. I had tried to reach out to a few people, but I’m no good at asking for help, and I didn’t feel right reaching out to the one person I knew would hear my call for help. She was busy, and I felt the need to fix things by myself. Sunday night, I found myself wishing I could be numb. I wanted to step into someone else for a little while.

For the first time in years, I thought about death. I wasn’t thinking about committing suicide, even at my lowest, but I thought about not existing. I thought about who would be hurt. I thought about what I would miss. I thought about how much I truly love life. I knew things would get better, and I just had to hang on.

I looked that shit right in the face, and I chose hope.

No matter what anyone says, I have that.

I choose to be happy, and I choose to fight.

Yesterday when I woke up, things seemed more manageable. I knew things would be okay. It was a gift.

I know it seems like an odd thing to say after everything I just wrote, but I am a happy person. Even at the darkest moment, I grabbed on to that happiness and hung on to it like a life raft. I almost didn’t write this because I don’t want to be thought of being a sad, negative person. I want to focus on my happy and my light. But, I have these fights. They are part of who I am.

Instead of feeling weak or embarrassed because I got depressed and like I’m somehow broken, I’ve decided to feel strong and bright because I kept my hope, and I kept my fight. I’ve decided to take pride in choosing hope. I’m a happy, positive person, even at my darkest.

Things get better, always, if you hang on long enough.