I am terrified of death. Quite honestly, I think it’s bullshit. The whole concept seems really bizarre to me. I don’t like it one bit. As you may have learned, if you have read my latest article “Two Years in an Instant” on Ghost Parachute, that most people with my disease don’t live past thirty years old. I just “celebrated” my twenty-seventh birthday last month. It makes me feel like my time is short when I already feel that time is short in general. It’s a frustrating aspect of life. A lot of people have tried telling me that there’s nothing to be afraid of because there’s nothing you can do about it. Isn’t that the worst? The uncontrollable and the unknown are classically feared. I don’t want to be afraid anymore.
What do I do moving forward? Do I bitch and complain about how short life is and hope somehow it will make me feel better? Do I scour the internet and the book stores and learn all I can about life, death and the afterlife and try to find some definitive answers? Maybe I simply just ignore it, realizing that since it can’t be changed that I shouldn’t change my life because of the inevitable outcome. I don’t know what the right answer is and I know there are a lot more options out there. I just need to reach a point where I can make it through a day where I’m happy and not in fear.
Is there anything you do to help you cope? Have you found religion? Do you follow science? Do you believe in the stories of near death experiences? I would love to hear your beliefs and opinions.
It’s been over a week since my last blog post and that makes me pretty upset. Most people who know me probably wouldn’t think much of it, but it’s actually a big deal to me, especially since as of late I’ve been really passionate about keeping this blog active and alive.
But there’s another reason why it’s really important to me.
I don’t like when my anxiety and depression take over me. It makes me absolutely useless. My ability to do simple tasks is stolen from me and I’m left lying on the bed trying to figure out what I’ve done wrong. So I do a lot of things to try to deal with it and unless you have someone in your life who has depression or have depression yourself, you may not fully understand that these few things that I do to try to cope and “fix” myself suddenly become insanely important.
What I do is I try to get myself to the shower. If I can get myself into the shower, that’s almost the ballgame right there. The act of getting out of bed, moving my feet across my room and into the bathroom is my first step of gaining a bit of control again. I’m no longer sinking deeper into my bed sheets or drowning myself under blankets. I’m being active. I’m walking. I’m bathing. I’m drying myself off. I’m putting on clothes. I’m doing a plethora of things. All of which are slowly building me up to getting out of the house and on with my day.
But sometimes I don’t make it to the shower or when I do, I make it there too late. It’s 7:38 PM right now and it’s almost too late. The cut off point for me is when I can no longer go outside and go to a store and talk to people. If I had to be honest and tell the people at my local GameStop that one of the reasons why I’m a regular and talk to them so much is because it is to help keep me sane, I honestly don’t know what their reactions would be, but I’m hoping they’d be supportive. Talking to people and connecting with people helps me fight back and shoot a steady stream of anti-depressant filled bullets into my brain.
I’ve been on medication for years. I’ve been on ones that work and ones that literally have made me want to crash my car into a tree and I thank the people that prevented something like that from happening to me. But medication only does so much. There’s so much more to it than just taking a pill and smiling for the rest of the day. When you grow up with depression and anxiety people tell you all sorts of things that you should start doing to better yourself such as doing something you find fun. It’s not that simple. I love playing video games and I love watching TV shows and I can do those things, but while I’m enjoying it, I’m miserable at the same time. I find that momentary happiness is what tends to keep me alive a lot of the time. The spark of a good conversation. The unexpected joke at the most inopportune moment. Those are just a couple of the moments I need to keep going.
But for me when it hits, it all starts with getting to the shower.