Talking over Soggy Cornflakes (Major depression)

Learn how I beat Depression

It is good to talk about your issues, or at least that is what I am told. It seems like the right thing to do, it sounds good as a sound bite, and it worked for me so I guess it wouldn’t be out of place for me to say it to you.

I remember two mornings before I was going to do the unthinkable, and remove my 14-year-old life from this earth. Looking back now, the notion is obviously reprehensible, I had a lot going for me that I just couldn’t see then, I was too cooped up in the formula that a major depression has set in stone for me since I was 11. Yeah I had suicidal thoughts even at that point. I remember looking at the window of my second storey bedroom back home, before I was shipped off to boarding school, looking at that window and visualizing first my head, then torso squeezing through and hitting the dirt below.

I remember a poem, one of about 40 I wrote that I later gladly confined to the dust bin, in that poem there was a line that talked about making certain to land on my head as it was the head that had caused all of this. I felt like I wasn’t smart enough, the major depression had left my mind too fatigued to force feed itself with rote learning’s. and I lost my edge over the competition in those years.

Two days before I actually was going to go ahead with it in my 14th year, I remember over our breakfast of cornflakes and milk, bringing up the subject of suicide with two of my band of boarding school brothers. It wasn’t typical breakfast talk, in truth I don’t remember what kind of drivel we would talk about, and in that time I remember that it was my failure with words, my always feeling that whatever I had to say it wasn’t good enough for any social circle, that left me as the silent weak type. I remember even envying the strong and silent type wishing I could move one step up that social ladder.

In my bringing up the topic I would soon learn as I started to research the subject, that I was residing myself right along with the statistics. The majority of young people contemplating suicide will try to talk about the actual act itself in the days preceding. Only a few months ago I again spoke to one of my brothers from that breakfast table discussion that morning. I had never known it at the time, but they were very worried about my welfare at the time, I didn’t know either at the time that my family had been making phone-calls to the school. I don’t know why anyone wouldn’t tell me that they were thinking of me, at the time I felt so utterly alone in my struggle that when I made my way to my gallows that morning I thought that there was no one who cared, no one who knew even.

I didn’t go to school that morning, what did it matter that there would be people looking for me when I failed to say ‘yes sir’ when my name was to be read out in the roll-call, I would be long gone by then. Much of that day I block out, I remember every tear, I remember writing the note, I cant actually remember the means by which I was going to do it, but I did have a stone to get some glass from a broken window. I sat I cried and listened as one by one the class bells rang throughout the school buildings. I was down in the rugby changing rooms, there was no sport due for at least 8 hours. I thought I wouldn’t be found.

I wrote a poem about that day later on, and it was in amongst the other 40 when I made that ritualistic throwing away of all those negative words, in a way tossing out my major depression along with them. It wasn’t the end but it was a line in the sand and once the lines are drawn battle can commence.

Learn how I beat Depression

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