The tires squealed as I jerked the wheel. The slick pavement of the interstate fought against my instinct. Left…no right. Metal crushed loudly and for a moment, time stood still on that dark, rainy highway. “I don’t want to die.”
In the rear view mirror I saw death and it was a spotlight on the fact that I didn’t want to die. Not today. I’m not ready yet. Nevertheless, I’ve heard that voice inside my head tell me in fact I do want to die.
To some this may seem like a no brainer and a forethought conclusion. However, up until now I have struggled with depression and the dark thoughts it summons.
In all honesty, I can’t tell you how many nights I’ve thought of the easiest way to end it all. In fact, this car crash thing seemed like an option at one point. Yes, I’ve wanted to die. Or at least I thought I did.
It sounds dramatic and completely ridiculous when I say it out loud. It’s complicated and extremely exhausting when you fight these inner demons. After all, that inner voice sounds like my own.
Am I alone in this battle? It feels like. However, I know that millions of people suffer from depression and suicidal thoughts. Hell, I have 4 people in my house that have depression. Depression is everywhere, in every social economic situation, every race, gender, religion, and sexual orientation. It does not discriminate.
The want to live came for me in a car crash that with the opposite instinctual jerk of the wheel could’ve sent me to the morgue. The light shining in my tear view was a semi truck waiting to plow me straight into the ground.
All of this to say I want to live. Furthermore I want you to live. I don’t want that desire to live to be in a near fatal situation or in the last moment after it’s too late to choose. That voice isn’t you, it’s the enemy. We have to fight it and keep fighting it. Even when we feel like we have no fight left.
I know it’s easier said than done. I take my meds, I do the best I can too, but some days it feels like it’s all just too heavy. Let someone else take that wheel. Pick up the phone, send a text, hell, call me. Seriously.
If nothing else I want to document that I do, in fact, want to live. This way the next time my demons come to collect my desire to keep on keeping on I can remember that for whatever reason, or by chance that someone, somewhere took the wheel for me. Thanks mom. 😇 And, yes, I do want to live.