Coming Out [From Under the Duvet]

A few months ago I tried to die. Commit suicide. Self-murder. Call it what you will.

I wasn’t sure whether to share this detail about myself here. Only 2 people in my life know this about me. But, hard as it is to talk about, it’s a pretty major part of who I am right now. And open honest dialogue about difficult issues only serves to take away their power. To make the monster small.

And depression is a complicated beast, with complicated roots. It manifests and masquerades in many different ways for as many different people. I only know my own story. A combination of a difficult childhood and my failure as an adult to live a life that I actually enjoy and respect are what led me to the end of my rope. The rope, by the way, had a little too much give – stretching just enough for my toes to touch the floor; just enough for some air to reach my lungs. So here I still am. While my actions that day were made spontaneously out of deep despair, I had very consciously been trying to deal with the anxiety and depression, and trying to fight the suicidal urge, for about 2 years.

Up till that point though I was trying to do it all from under the duvet.

Two years ago all I knew was that I had to take some time off and hide for a while, I could not face many more days of a life that I had just fallen into. I was confused about who I was, let alone how to be who I was. I had begun to feel like a dead weight, utterly disconnected from the life around me. I felt this way because I had spent my life running from the past and could not connect to anything else until I connected with it. So I quit my job as soon as I could.

I went to the doctor to find out my options. I researched the arse out every bad aspect of my dysfunctional upbringing. I saturated my mind with mental health theories – the old school, the new, the mainstream, the alternative and the very alternative. I discovered blogs and started reading other people’s stories. Some were sincere, some bold, some angry, some hopeless, and some hilarious. I had acknowledged that there were very real problems in my life that I had to address.

People will tell you that acknowledgment is the hardest part… Bollocks.

The hardest part came after. It came when I realised it was all on me. No amount of acceptance, or educating myself, no amount of kind and encouraging words from others could change my reality. Though these are all very good and very necessary things, it is ultimately only me who can carve out a life that I feel is worth living.

I knew this… but did nothing about it. And that is what led me to the end of my rope.

So, the last few months have been my gradual coming out from under the duvet. Idealogically I sort of claim to be an anarchist, so I’ve started reading anarchist literature. I hate that I’m dependent on money, so I’ve started learning ways to use less of it on crap I don’t need, saving it for the stuff I really want. I hate how wasteful I am and that modern life doesn’t require me to do anything with my hands, so I’ve started volunteering at a local wood recycling place. I hate that my muscles are weak and untrained, so I’ve started trying out a bunch of martial arts and exercise classes. I hate that I have nothing creative to show for my 30 years, so I’ve enrolled on an art course (first class last week).

Find the thing that scares you and do it. Turn the thing you hate into passion for its alternative. Don’t just know the words and the mantras. Actually do it.

I’d be lying if I said it was easy. I’d even be lying if I said I enjoyed it. The classes, the course, the volunteering, they all fill me with dread. I have a terrible night’s sleep the night before. I wake up in a shitty mood. The closer it comes time to leave the house the more panicky, upset and nauseous I feel. And once I’m there it’s even worse. The flourescent lights scorch my eyes, searing my brain. My heart beats so hard and fast and loud I swear it’s moving the table. Every cell in my body screams at me not to be there. But I am there. And I know it will be like this for a while. My body is reacting to things that happened in the past, and not to anything that is happening now. It does get incrementally better – but you have to walk through the pain, not run away from it. Or sit with it under the duvet.

‘You need to reach out into the darkness before the darkness reaches you’ ~Dizraeli Reach Out

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Coming Out [From Under the Duvet]

4 thoughts on “Coming Out [From Under the Duvet]

  1. Personally, I admire your courage. Had I the courage to kill myself, I’d been dead long ago. But my angst is from another corner. I’m confident enough, physically and mentally strong enough for most challenges and argumentative and confrontational enough to stand my ground. But I’m misanthropic, and all baggage that that carries.

    Though I don’t know you, and though I only read a bit about you here, you seem a courageous and decent person, growing in awareness. I’m glad you got it together. The world, this suck-ass despicable planet of human swarm is in desperate need of more like you. And, there are others, though few.

    Welcome to the blogosphere.

    Peace, strength, courage.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks for the words of welcome and encouragement, they mean a lot. I’ve got a pretty heavy bag filled with misanthropic misgivings myself. On the one hand my angst comes from personal trauma, sure. But it also comes from seeing that I was born into an insane game that’s rigged against the vast majority. And from being told to sit still and play by the rules, when I don’t even want to play the game. It can be maddening at times..

      You have a great blog by the way. A poem of yours was one of the first posts I read on here a month or so ago. I loved it, but was still very shy about liking/commenting.

      Look forward to reading more.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Let’s not play their game no more than necessary. Theirs is a killing sport, with its wars and bloodshed of the innocent and rape of the planet; and the mind-control of the masses. And make no mistake, they are controlled. We are not obligated to play by their rules. We can make our own, we can be different, we must be different, we can create our own reality. We can enlighten, one the other, and from this . . . who knows what will come.

        Thank you, and again, peace, strength, courage.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Couldn’t agree more. I haven’t read any Steve Biko but I’m aware of a quote: “the greatest weapon in the hand of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed”

    It isn’t the boot or the baton that keeps people down; It’s convincing people that their oppression isn’t oppression at all. The ultimate control. On that note, I don’t believe we’ll win our freedom by force. I’m not saying there’s never a time for people to physically defend themselves, but the real fight happens every day. We’re led to believe we all have free will, but lately I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s actually a skill – like carpentry or playing guitar. Like any skill, it has to be practiced to be mastered. And just like any other skill, we can lose it if we neglect it. I wish I’d recognised this sooner.. but hey, I’m here now..

    Here’s to making our own rules.
    Keep fighting.

    Liked by 1 person

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