It’s Been Two Years Since I Last Wanted To Die

It’s been almost two years since I last wanted to die, and in honour of World Mental Health Day, this accomplishment deserves a post.


Sure we all joke like, “omg I want to die” or sigh with a “kill me” on our Monday mornings back to work…. but I’m not talking about that kind of wanting to die – I’m talking about the kind of dying where you wont wake up on any Mondays, or Tuesdays, or Wednesday, or any day – ever again.

I wasn’t officially diagnosed with clinical Depression until after the first real time I decided that I wanted to die…, which could have been much too late.

Thankfully, I survived.

And thankfully, I again survived after the second time too.

When I say I decided to die, I don’t mean that the ‘me’ – who is writing this now – just woke up and said, “Hey! What a great day to die! No.

The ‘me’ who decided she wanted to die crept up on me over a long period of time.

In a moment of extended sadness and vulnerability, the dark side of me took complete advantage and decided that this time I wouldn’t just be able to cry and move on, no matter what was wrong – this time, that dark side was in charge.

Let’s call her K.

And K is an all-powerful life sucking bitch.

Over more than a few months K slowly tried to kill me.

– She started by pointed out my flaws and pushing me into compromising situations.
– She then began to try to embarrass me and make me obsessed about my mistakes
– Next she began to starve me and choke me with anxiety.
– And then she threatened my relationships, scared me into staying in bed all day long, and she told me, everyday from that point on, that I was never, ever, going to feel better.

K is the one that told me, just as I was about to break – “you should just give up – that would be easiest”.

The Kellie who I am on a daily basis now, has little understanding of how K took control and caused her to feel such a deep level of despair.

The person I am right now is honestly her complete opposite… which makes this all so very confusing for both me, and those around me.

When K was in charge, I was a shell of a person where no hope existed – Kellie was put away in the back corner of a deep, dark, drawer that was locked… the key thrown away.

When K was her most powerful just over two years ago – she tried to kill me, not once, but twice, in just 5 months.

When I reflect on all of this now it blows my mind… I am ashamed and I am scared.

I’m ashamed because I cannot grasp the reasons why I would be so selfish as to want to leave my friends and family behind, just to end my own pain.

And I am scared, because I now am aware that this “K” thing exists somewhere within me… and I am terrified that she will one day rise again.

Although this is a hard fear to manage, it is the fear that keeps me proactive in combatting her existence. It is the fear that pushes me to remain an open book with my parents and friends about my struggle and my feelings. It is the fear that keeps me looking for the bright side and has allowed me to accept help and the necessary medication that helps to keep K silent.

This December, it will have been two years since I last felt that I truly wanted to die.

And although that sounds so intensely morbid, I am feeling so incredibly fortunate, happy, and blessed to be able to say that for two years now – I’ve been successfully healing, that I’ve been successfully managing.

I started writing this blog to help express myself, my world-view, and my truest, deepest feelings about these types of issues – and I don’t plan to stop.

I’ve had many people ask me if I think I’m sharing too much, or if I think that these posts will prevent me from getting a good job, or make new friends, or to get a new boyfriend…

And while they might, this is a sacrifice I am willing to make. If my discussions of mental health help a single person feel that they are not alone – then this is so beyond worth it. And if a person cannot accept my past, and the proof of how far I’ve worked to heal myself – they don’t deserve me – and I don’t want them.

Depression does not define me, but if I choose to stay silent about the very real realities that I have experienced, I am allowing myself to feel ashamed for something that is out of my control.

If I don’t talk about this, I am suffocating the opportunity I have through developing honest reading material like this – that could possibly HELP someone else… that could possibly SAVE someone else.

If you ever need to talk – please feel free to send me a message.

2 Comments Add yours

  1. Di Solitar says:

    Thank You, for your honesty and for the strength you now have! Depression is a hard one to shake off….mine has been 13 years ago, and I know I am stronger for it. Keep writing, it does help


  2. Gary says:

    Every time I think I have conquered this depression and suicide thoughts, it comes back again. Depression is a constant battle, but I will never let it have the last word. I would certainly like to break away free.


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