Here You Are... Again

It was mid December 2016 and I was on my way home from work. My surroundings that day were such a blur, I never remembered the time, the speed I was going, or any specifics of that moment other than what I felt myself go through. I was in Los Angeles, so the traffic was almost always bad. I do remember cars passing me by as I looked at the highway wall and thought, "Why not?" And just as that thought was settling on my mind I felt my tears running down my face. I do not even remember my thoughts prior this but that is when I realized I had just contemplated ending my life. I sat there, wondering, "how did I get to this point?" I felt confusion, but most of all I felt fear.

How did I not pay attention when I started keeping to myself? How did I not realize that those episodes of agony that my mind was going through were anxiety attacks that came by more than once a day? How did I not pay any attention of my own feelings and thoughts? That was my confusion.

My fear, though, that was possibly why I'm still here. Fearful of what had just crossed my mind. Fearful that in a split second a thought like this would pass on by again but this time I'd follow through. Fearful because I want to live and I look forward to my present and my future. And mostly I was scared because I had no idea why this was happening.

See, I have experienced this before, back when I was 12, just a child and I encountered depression for the very first time, but that is a story for another time. The way I view depression and the simplest way I can explain it is as a darkness, a darkness that takes over the room. The room symbolizes my emotions, my mind—the room is me. At that age, the room was a complete darkness but after some time when I had overcome my depression, that room was no longer dark. The darkness, of course, was still there but it was just a mere shadow in the corner of the room that would only catch my attention from time to time. I always knew it was going to be a daily struggle.

And yes, I did feel the darkness begin to fill the space but I felt so comfortable, too comfortable, to stop the depression from seeping in. I believe now that is where my mistake was. I saw it happening and I did nothing to avoid it.

I did not want to do anything I loved doing. I no longer felt like writing poetry, writing anything for that matter. I socialized only when I had to and avoided socializing more and more as time went by. I did not want to leave my room or my bed. It became harder to even want to get out of bed to go to work.

But that day, on my way home, is the day I came to a realization that I was a danger to my own self. I needed to start to pay attention to what I was feeling and to what I was thinking. If I did not do this, if I did not figure out what was wrong and fixed it then I would not have the future I was working hard for. I would let down my family and loved ones but most importantly, I'd hurt them. If I did not get it together, I would no longer exist.