Why Should I Continue to Fight the Pain of Depression for Another 40 Years?

A commenter, Jessica, left a comment yesterday that so succinctly expresses what so many of us feel about depression, bipolar and mental illness, and continue to feel. The following is her comment and my response.

“when I just feel so sick and tired of fighting for what seems like nothing…what seems like a never ending battle…what seems like someone hitting me over the head with a two-by-four every two minutes, telling me it will never stop until the day I die, and then they explaining to me why I should continue to fight to live for another 40 years.”

Yes. I know.

Fighting the Pain of Depression

We fight to the death for millimeters when we really need a mile. I know.

Fighting Suicide and Bipolar DisorderWhy should I continue to fight the pain of depression for another 40 years?

I have asked myself this question a thousand times. Why should I continue to fight the pain of depression?

I have pondered it. I have written about it. I have talked about it it. Believe me, I understand this question. Depression, suicide and I go way back.

I have no answer, no answer at all, but I can tell you this:

  • If, 12 years ago I had killed myself, I never would have experienced a skydive
  • If, 8 years ago I had killed myself, I would have never discovered I could write
  • If, 5 years ago I had killed myself, I never would have flown with the eagles in Venezuela
  • If, 2 years ago I had killed myself, I would never have helped all the people I have today

While sometimes I refuse to admit it, my work, my words, my effort matters.

Fighting Depression Matters

See, life is funny that way. You eke out a millimeter when you really need a mile, but sometimes that millimeter matters. To you. To others.

I despise being hit over the head with a 2 X 4 while downing pills, sticking to ridiculously strict schedules, seeing doctors and fighting to the death. Oh yes. I hate it.

And don’t get me wrong, I frequently want to give up. I frequently want to surrender to depression. I frequently want to end this fucking fight.

But all I can say is: your fight matters. Your millimeter matters.

Your comment here matters. To me. To others. That millimeter that you fought against depression for, mattered.

I do not know how to win the fight, but I do know, that for no reason I understand, the fight matters. It just does.

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