There is no shame with happiness

Sometimes life is too much. Too much stress, too many things going wrong, too many unpleasant feelings.

One of my dearest friends killed himself just over one year ago. He chose to release himself from life's pain on a chilly October evening in his friend's backyard, hanging from a tree.

I get it, I accept it, and I am happy he is no longer suffering.

It's been one year, yet I sometimes forget he's gone. But he is gone. Forever. Never again will I hear his voice. Never again will he create art or make music. Andy is nothing but a memory now. I see the impact his death has had on everyone in his life: his parents, cousins, friends, and me. When he tied that rope around his neck and jumped, he created a hole in everyone's life who knew him. No one can fill that hole. It's there now. Forever.

Losing someone to suicide allowed me to view life, death, and personal choice in a very unique way. Andy voluntarily removed himself from life. He made the decision he no longer wanted to participate in consciousness. I think it's morbidly beautiful. Still, I wish I could go back in time, grab him by the shoulders, look into his eyes and have him focus on nothing but me, and make him understand that he could get through this. That I would help him. That life is worth it, he is worth it, and there is always another option. If only he had held on a little bit longer...

And yet, I sometimes find myself wanting to do it too, however fleetingly.

The rational mind knows these feelings aren't permanent, that happiness will be felt again, that a reason to exist will present itself. But in the moments when suicide seems appealing, none of that matters. The mind has a way of making you believe that life just isn't worth it. That you aren't worth it. That even though you will be happy again... that won't be permanent either. The depression will always return. Always.

Depression will always be a part of me. I've been on antidepressants for 15 years. I've tried twice to come off them, and both times were unsuccessful, resulting in catastrophic failure on a huge scale. Turned-my-world-upside-down type of failure. I created massive messes and had to pick up the pieces with the help of those I fall on when I can't hold myself up any longer. Both attempts to live medication-free were awful experiences I'd rather not repeat. I have accepted that I will always need antidepressants, especially in the moments when I feel like I don't (that means they're working). I get that now.

Many know about my struggles with mental illness... so why does it feel so isolating? When I'm happy, I have no problem letting the world know. There is no shame with happiness. I don't feel like a burden when I am loving life. I don't worry that people won't understand my happiness or that they will judge me for it. What makes depression so very different?

Growth doesn't happen when life is easy

Growth happens when life turns to shit. We have to dig deep and find the strength we didn't know was there. When something awful used to happen to me, I'd avoid, ask for help, and cry, "Why me?" Now when something awful happens, the first thing I tell myself is, "You will get through this. You've made it through worse."

That seemingly simple mindset shift didn't happen overnight.

This past year-and-a-half has been one shitty situation after another. That's life, right? It sometimes feels like I don't have the chance to breathe, though, because the next obstacle presents itself so soon after I've overcome the previous one. I've gone through divorce, the loss of friends as a result of my decision to leave my marriage, living in my car, four moves, the suicide of a dear friend, the loss of a great job, a broken foot, wrote off my car by taking out a light pole on the highway in icy conditions, a car accident with my new car, and the unexpected death of my best friend/dog. Yet somehow, I am always grateful when I've made it through something shitty. I reflect back, and I can appreciate the situation for what it was: a chance to improve myself, to add depth to my character, to learn, to grow. 

But, I am exhausted. I've wanted to throw in the towel so many times, but every time something happens, I know the only way my situation will improve is to keep pushing forward. I somehow find a way to persevere. There is no other option. 

The last time a new shitstorm rolled in, my mom said, "This last year has been brutal for you, but Dad and I are so proud of how you've handled it." That was enough to keep me going. 

I look back at my decision to leave my marriage, and while it caused a lot of hurt for my ex - as well as his family and mine - it was absolutely the right decision. Leaving my marriage was the first really difficult thing I've knowingly put myself through. I'm sure I'll go through worse in my lifetime, but up to that point, I knew it was going to be the most difficult. Studies show that going through a divorce can be as devastating as many of life's other traumatic experiences and often results in PTSD. Thankfully, that wasn't the case for me. My ex and I remained amicable throughout the entire process, and when we last spoke, we apologized for any hurt caused and wished one another the best in our respective futures. 

Divorce gave me the chance to become a better person. A chance to live authentically, have greater empathy for others going through difficult situations, the ability to recognize that I truly can't know what's going on in anyone's life, and the opportunity to redefine myself and carve out a new life - a life that is mine.

Even though life has been hurdle after hurdle this last year-and-a-half, I wouldn't change a thing... because I am who I am today as a result of all of it.

RIP to my best friend, Charlie