Rock Bottom

You’ve heard that just right. For the past few weeks, I’m in the deepest part, darkest stage, and worst phase of my depression episode.

It all started in February. I broke up with my ex and things went downhill afterward. At that time, I could never understand why. I can’t eat, can’t sleep, and I hurt myself every night by banging my head to the wall. It was a terrible time. One time, I only had a KitKat for the rest of the day. I’ve lost everything and I think nobody wants me. And so, those episodes begin.

I could only blame myself for anything, and keep pushing everyone who reassures me that everything will be fine. Oftentimes I do self-sabotage. Not to mention that I will never do good in life. Life’s not worth living. You might be thinking “Why does this guy get depressed over a chick?”. It’s a complicated matter, to say the least.

I promised myself when I got a girl, I will commit myself to self-improvement and to shape myself better. And then, magic happens. Not only did I get a perfect partner but also get in shape, take good care of myself, and be a better person than I was before. No more bickering, no more swearing, just the better version of me. Until I broke up.

Some of you might ask “Why did you be codependent on someone else?” In my defense, I’ve been alone for quite some time, and I want to have a perfect life, and that’s pretty much it. But now, I have nothing. Things went downhill.

I hurt myself, more and more.

While I was processing my grief, one of my best friends sent me a book about stoicism. I keep reading it until now. I realized that being codependent on someone else might hurt you. It’ll make you bleed more. Around the same time, I was going back to my hometown. It was like a healing trip. But then again, I screwed up.

On my way home, I was having another suicide attempt. This time, I was being serious. Packed all my things, wrote some cryptic letters, saying goodbye to some people. The plan was to jump off the ship in the middle of the ocean. As I climbed the railing, I stopped. My life flashes before me. And then, I backed up slowly. And I realized that nothing can bring me down. Nothing. And now, I’m not sure if I regret it or am grateful for it.

People said that I will do good in the future, I am not sure about it since I will always do more attempts or keep hurting myself. I needed professional help. I remember what my therapist said, he said that I need to sort things up, distract myself even more by writing, and block my negative thoughts. Sometimes it worked just fine, but I still have a meltdown. Especially when I saw happy couples. I always got bitter. Always.

If only I could do better in the future. If only. I am still on rock bottom. Climbing to the top, bleeding, nobody will rescue me but myself. It’s either I wish I pass this or I wish I were dead.