You have no idea how both of your words of encouragement help. It's my fault for not being close to people or keeping myself at a distance from people I used to be close to. I never had to deal with depression before, I've always had it rough but I had hope, I've always had hope but the older I get, the more that hope dwindles. My sister dying aided that.
Spike, I feel like I won't make it because all I think about is being done with everything. I barely talk to anyone, I keep to myself, I can't even laugh anymore and laughing used to be a huge deal for me. Humour is the universal language used to conceal pain. Depression makes me, my own worst enemy. Depression convinces me that I can’t get up, that I’m not smart enough, or skinny enough, or pretty enough, or that bad things will happen to me forever. Depression makes me dislike the people I love. I never dealt with this range of emotions before, I never dealt with despair. Hopeless? Alone? Self-abusing? Those were not words associated with who I was. I was happy. Despite the struggles, despite how hard life seemed to be, I was happy. My sister’s passing brought out a sadness in me that I didn’t recognize, a person I don’t even know. A person, I don’t even like.
She was my baby sister. She was no ordinary kid. I know, I know we all idealize them in their deaths and whatnot, but I’m not exaggerating. She was no ordinary kid. I loved her, just like we all love our siblings. That bond that can’t EVER be explained to people. No relationship is easy. Not romantic, family, or even your best friend. My sister was a handful. She was always either REALLY up, or REALLY down. Some days she would be filled with hope. Proud we made it this far alone, without parents, without any support but each other. We were all the family we needed. All the family we have really. My dad went to prison many years before for child, and domestic abuse. Both my parents were addicts. Foster homes after that weren’t always the kindest to us. People yelled at us, beat us and reminded us every day that we were nothing but a favour. No one wanted us, but through it all we had each other. I’ve dealt with, and I’m still dealing with my past. Some demons stay with you, some demons convinces me that my sister was right on her down days. We aren’t special. Nobody, not even our own parents loved us. “We were born into shyt and we’ll die in it!” she’d say all the time. It may as well have been her life mantra. It’s either people are born lucky, or they aren’t. And we weren’t. That’s how she saw it, and that's how I see it now.
She didn't just die alone, she drank poison, a substance called Lanate. It doesn't taste or smell like anything, so while she was dying in my house I could do nothing to help her, nothing but watch her die and panic and scream. My other sister and I still cannot even talk about that day. I read that suicide doesn't stop your pain, it just passes it on to everyone else. That's exactly what happened.
I don’t know if it’s depression, I don’t know if it’s hopelessness. I don’t know if I’ve become so bitter and heartbroken that I cannot even see the good in the world, the good in people, the good in anything which is an anomaly for someone who always tried to see the good in everything. I keep telling myself “You need to look into therapy” but I never go and I wouldn't be able to afford it anyway. I went once, and it sure as shyt didn't make me feel better. I keep telling myself I’m doing better, I am accepting this, I CAN SURVIVE this but then here I am again, drowning in it. I keep getting the same advice “Go to therapy,” “Try and find God.” I’m not sure how God would help me. I always wanted to believe that God loved me, despite how terrible my childhood was, I believed he loved me. I know it’s alright to question God, to challenge him but I thought he doesn’t give us more than we can bear? I thought he was merciful? WHY WOULD GOD WANT ME TO BE ALONE? Why would God want me to go through this? My sister wasn’t very religious. She thought God forgot about us. Everyone forgot about us. No one I know knows how hard it is to go through this. To feel this and not even have your parents to call. To raise her, to watch her grow into a wonderful young woman, and then to watch her die and subsequently bury her. No one knows what this is like. It made me quit my job, drop out of school. I only finally started picking up the pieces recently but I don't even know what for. Sorry this is so long.
