It was nearly six years ago but I still remember it quite vividly. The last day of counseling in grad school. As a going away thing, she wrote me a note, mainly detailing what I could do in the future to help combat the depression. Self help, medications, further testing, counseling, hospitalization if nothing worked. I used to promise her every week that I would be ok until the next counseling session a week later. She decided not to make me promise that I wouldn’t kill myself ever at the last session. I did promise her I’d try everything I could before I would make that decision. That I’d try to get better.
At what point can I say that I’ve done everything I could? At what point can I give up? I guess I need lists or something saying this is the check list. When you have done everything on that list, then it’s ok. I’ve fought this for so long, and feel so defeated. I’m scared and alone. I have no reason to live until tomorrow, but no guts to do anything about it. I have no words to express the complete emptiness, loneliness, somethingness I feel.
To tell my counselor what I feel, I have to figure out what it is I feel myself. That I don’t know. Nor do I know why I feel this way. I’m supposed to be happy. But I’m not. I have a great husband, beautiful house, best dog any girl could ask for. I’m selfish for feeling this way. I’m afraid.