WARNING: This article contains sensitive subject matter regarding depression and suicide, and may not be suitable for all to read 

And into the forest I wandered lost

There is no one day or time stamp I can look back to and say “That’s when my life fell apart”. But there are clues, that when separated mean nothing, but piled ontop of eachother tell a story. 

I started experiencing depression around 14 years old. I kept it to myself. In my house, sadness, anger and anything else uncomfortable were not welcome. We were a “happy” house – and anything proving otherwise was not welcome. To be clear, I believe this mentality was created with the best of intentions. Both my mother and grandmother didn’t know how to deal with hard emotions, so they would bury them. But years of growing up where hard emotions were shamed, can really have a toll on you; as it did on me.

Do you remember hearing about Robin Williams? 

Everyone was so saddened and shocked by the famed actor’s suicide. Known for his lively sense of humour and kind heart, people would question how someone that seemed so happy and bring so much joy to others could kill himself. I understood. 

Suicide was a fleeting thought for me. The thought of my family and the pain it would cause them outweighed the pain I was going through. The idea would pass through my head as quickly as it would come. So instead, I came up with “creative” ways to distract myself from my emotional pain by inflicting physical pain on myself. As I got older, I turned to alcohol and drugs to quiet the problem. 

In my early 20’s I was in a toxic relationship that challenged every piece of me and left me broken. Instead of dealing with the pain, I shovelled it into a hole deep in the forest of my mind, and hoped I would never see it again. 

I exchanged my dreams for things that seemed more “realistic” and in line with the world. I used to want to inspire people through stories and emotion, now I just wanted to survive. My life continued to bury one problem after the next, back into that hole buried deep in the forest. 

At 29 I began to realize that the thoughts I had about men were unhealthy, and if I ever wanted to be in a relationship again they needed to change. So, I started seeing a therapist. 

I would read books on shame (Brene Brown) and listen to podcasts by a Budhist Meditation Psychologist (Tara Brach). I joined a “Depressed but Optimistic” group that met each week, where we each talked about our problems and the emotions that were surrounding them.  Being able to name shame was a pivotal point for me. So was understanding that my dark emotions belonged to other people too. 

I actively started working towards understanding the human mind and the emotions I was feeling, so I could start to unravel the pieces of where it went wrong. 

My head was filled with conflicting thoughts, and it was hard to decipher fiction from reality. My therapist began suggesting that I was bi-polar. Our time together seemed to be making things worse instead of better. Everything I was learning about the mind, shame and my connection to others was helpful, but I didn’t know what to do with it. I remember feeling like all of the thoughts and the emotions that were running through me were getting to be too overwhelming. It felt like there was an internal battle going on inside of me. The winning prize, my soul.

Like I said, there is no one day or time stamp I can look back to and say “That’s when my life fell apart”. But there was a day I realized that the pile I created needed to be dealt with. 

I had to make a decision. So, I hung on to the only thought I knew was true. 

I AM A GOOD PERSON

And that was enough. 

When the noise of the world started to flood over me again, I would come back to that thought. 

I AM A GOOD PERSON

I would remind myself of this daily – cancelling out the noise of the unkind voice that tried to occupy my head. It was my anchor to myself – my guiding light. The only thing I knew I could count on at that time. 

I AM A GOOD PERSON. I AM A GOOD PERSON. I AM A GOOD PERSON 

When I no longer had to remind myself, I added another anchor I knew was true. 

I AM AN HONEST PERSON

And then another

I AM A KIND PERSON

And then another

I AM A COMPASSIONATE PERSON

With each new anchor I added, I would make sure I lived it. 

I didn’t realize it at the time – but I was starting to reconstruct my values, beliefs and identity. I was subconsciously rebuilding myself, until I finally got the courage to go deep into the forest of my mind, and dig out the pieces of me that were buried. 

*For several months I was starting to visualize myself running into a forest looking for something… someone. Each visit I would wander lost, looking for something unknown until one day I come across a pool of light that was shining through the trees. The light pooled on a hole that was dug deep into the ground. The first time I saw the hole, as if by instinct, I ran. I didn’t want to look. I stayed out of the forest for a while until I gained the courage to go back. When I finally looked inside, I was staging down at a younger version of myself. Frightened and scared. 

It took me about 9 months of actively discovering and reminding myself of who I was before I felt whole again. 

The war inside of me ended with both sides waving a white flag in peace. 
I no longer spend my days looking around the corner, waiting in fear that the darkness will return. 
I haven’t had a panic attack in almost a year – and anxiety seems like a made up villain I used to imagine. 

I’m not writing this to gloat or brag about my victory through my depression. I am writing this because during that struggle, through the fear and the doubt, the hardest thing to get past was the feeling of being alone. The feeling that the dark emotions and thoughts were my responsibility, and mine alone to face. I wanted to protect the people I loved, so I hid all of my anger and shame inside of me, until it took over everything. Finding other people’s stories and connecting my own experience with others is what helped me. So I write this in hopes to bring a little light to someone who might be experiencing the same feelings I once did. And to offer a glimmer of hope.