Grace C.
Photography by Riley Curls
Before reading this letter, we'd like for you to know it discusses Grace’s experience with passive suicidal ideation. If you think that reading about this will be triggering for you, we encourage you to take a pause before reading this letter, center yourself, and prepare any resources you may need to access after reading it. If you'd rather not read this letter, we encourage you to read a letter on a different topic, such as Hikari’s or Claire’s letter.
If you’re reading this, at some point tomorrow will be better
I never understood how someone could take their own life until I experienced it myself. The darkness that I felt consumed me was nothing I could ever imagine. I felt physically heavy and getting out of bed felt impossible most mornings. I was going through the worst time of my life after a long-term relationship breakup. No one understood that it wasn’t just the breakup that caused it, that this had always been inside of me but the floodgates had opened letting it all out at once. In looking back I see now I’ve always had it, just never aware of it. All those times in high school I thought I just felt “down” started to make sense. Every day my goal was to make it to the end so I could go to sleep. I was sleeping more than ever and yet I felt the most tired I’ve ever been. Nothing felt enjoyable, food lost its taste, hanging out with friends felt like a requirement.
Everyone says when you’re depressed to do all these things to make you feel better but guess what? I tried and it almost made me feel worse. I started cleaning constantly because I thought if my room was clean, so was my mind. If my bed was made, then surely, I could be normal, like me again. But even through my efforts it never worked. I was surrounded by more people who wanted to help than I ever have been, and yet I have never felt more alone. Depression isolates you and tells you all sorts of lies to make you feel more alone. I was convinced I was a burden and people only wanted to hang out with me out of pity or as a necessity. Even though I didn’t have a fever or body aches, I was the sickest I have ever been. I couldn’t see a future where I would ever be happy. That feeling of hopelessness and emptiness is a feeling I don’t wish on my worst enemy. I didn’t want to harm myself, but I kept thinking in my head if I died in a car accident right now or if I was diagnosed with a terminal illness, I’d be happy. I had never heard anyone describe suicidal ideation like that.
I finally went to the doctor (after pleading from my parents) and she called it passive suicide. I had never heard of it, but its just as serious as what “normal” suicide signs look like. You don’t have a plan, but you almost wish for something bad to happen to you. I finally sought out help which is one of the hardest things to do. I wanted to get better, but the darkness inside of me fought back. Every step forward was followed by ten steps back. No one understood me, no one liked me, no one wanted to be around me, you will never be happy. That was the mantra my brain told me every morning. I felt so alone but the funny thing is, my story is not unique. Millions of people with depression understand what I am feeling. And yet, I was convinced they didn’t.
That was until my best friend’s mom texted me. She told me things about myself, about my depression, I felt like she had to have a crystal ball to know. But the truth is she understood because she had gone through it. She called it the monster because it wasn’t me that was feeling this. No one understood but her. While it didn’t make the monster go away for the first time in months, I felt normal. Getting better didn’t feel impossible, just out of reach. My mantra changed from I don’t want to keep going to the one I now say every day: Tomorrow will be better, and if it’s not I will say it again because at some point, tomorrow will be better. I won’t sugarcoat it and say my days were immediately better or that I don’t still have bad days where I feel consumed. It was gradual. It felt like the colors came back into my life one at a time. Of course, the medication was one reason for this but not the only one. Healing is not linear and for me every day felt like a roller coaster, but I took it each day one step at a time.
Again, my story is not unique, even my best friend’s mom’s story isn’t unique, but that’s why it’s important to share it. You are not alone. Other people feel it too. And even though it doesn’t feel like it right now…maybe tomorrow will be better.
Grace C., Florida State University
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