Freitag, 21. Juli 2017

[Something To Think About] Depression is deathly real // Rest in Peace Chester Bennington

Yesterday, Chester Bennington, singer of Linkin Park passed away. He committed suicide. The music of Linkin Park was a huge inspiration througout my life and helped me through hard times. The lyrics seemed to care when I needed it the most. They seemed to understand while all others around me couldn't. I just hope, you now found the peace you were looking for, Chester. And my thoughts and my heart are with his family and friends.

I read the news yesterday evening, short time before I wanted to go to bed. And I was deeply shocked and heartbroken, I started crying and listened to the songs and cried even more. And my boyfriend - who loved Linkin Park even more than me - couldn't understand why. He asked me why I'm so deep into it and why I couldn't just stop taking everything so seriously. But the thing is: this is me. I'm sensitive. I'm emotional. And I'm emphatic. I'm crying for their lost lives, for their families and friends and for all those lost chances. I cried for them all - Chester Bennington, Chris Cornell, David Bowie, Alan Rickman, BB King, Leonard Cohen, Prince, Robin Williams and so many more. I had a lot to cry the last 2 years. 

Maybe I'm too emotional. Highly sensitive. But I can't change it. I don't want to be like that. It's really not nice to cry so much and to feel this deep pain in your heart, whenever you think of a person who died and about their families and friends grieving. I'm feeling this pain and it takes my breath and leaves me heartbroken. Sometimes I want to be one of those persons, thinking "Oh, Sad!" and then turning away and being happy again. But I'm not like that. I'm different. And most of the time I'm okay with that. 

But it's different when it comes to suicide. Mental problems. Whenever one of the person, who inspired me throughout my life chose to end it because they can't stand it anymore, there is this feeling inside my heart. And it's hurting even more. Because I know this feeling. I know these thoughts. Every person is different and every depression has it's own faces, but I'm able to relate to them. The feelings, the pain they must have felt. 
When you're depressed it doesn't matter that you have a family and friends who would miss you. You can't see them anymore. They're still there but you can't reach them. You feel alone even though you're not. You feel broken. And exhausted. You feel like you've lost something but you don't know what it was. Until you realise that it's yourself you've lost. And you don't have a clue how to get yourself back again. You live while you die inside and nobody can see it. They maybe say you're weak because you can't handle your own life. And maybe you think the same. And in those moments you can't see that you are not weak, because you fight the hardest - every day in your life. This is not weakness, it's bravery and strenght. And there is this one thought in your head, repeating over and over again: The world's a better place without you. You're wrong, but you can't see it. Someday you believe it. You believe, that you're parents are happier without you. Or your wife, your husband, your children, your friends. Because without you and your depression, your swallowing sadness and emptiness and self-hatred they can start over new. Then they don't have to deal with you and your illness anymore, then they can laugh and be happy. Of course you're wrong, but at this stage you can't see it. You believe your own thoughts, you believe your depression whispering to you that you're worthless and a burden. And this is a big step towards suicide. 
I had such thoughts. And I wished for something - or someone - ending it for me, so that I don't have to do it myself. If it was an accident, it wasn't my fault, right? And one day your passive suicidality becomes an active suicidality. And you think about how to end your life. 

You need help. And deep within you know it. But you don't have the energy to search for help. There's no strenght left. You're completely exhausted. 

Maybe you have a family.
Maybe you have friends.
Maybe you have a therapist.
Maybe you're taking medicine.

But sometimes this isn't enough.
Sometimes death is the only exit you see. 

Some are taking it.
And some don't. 

But fact is: everyone of us can suffer from depression. Women or men, young or old, religious or atheist, black or white, tall or short, big or small, student, worker or pensioner. Everyone

Depression is a real thing, it's a real illness and it can kill you. It's important to always remember that. Depressed people, anxious people or other mentally ill people are not searching for attention, they are not overacting. We need help. Not attention. And this is why it's so important to be aware of the way we treat each other. You never know which battle others are fighting. So be kind and be there if one needs you. Being depressed is not a joke, it's a slowly killing invisible illness. You can't see it, but it's still there. And it's deathly real. 

So this is why I was so heartbroken yesterday. And a few weeks ago when Chris Cornell passed. Because I thought about ending my life as well. Till today I was able to not doing it, but I still have to fight every single day. Against this voice in my heart telling me that it would be better if I'm dead. I was feeling like this so many weeks in my life and I still do. And knowing a person who inspired me for such a long time weren't able to fight anymore hurts so much. Because I know how easy it seems to just give up instead of fighting on and on and on. I'm heartbroken for me. Because I have to fight this battle as well and I'll never know who long I can fight on. I'm heartbroken for them, because they lost their battles and weren't able to fight anymore. And I'm heartbroken for all those families and friends left behind. It's hurting and it's not fair and maybe you're angry and maybe you can't understand. But all of those now saying that those committing suicide are too weak just let me say: They are not. They fought their whole lives. Until they weren't able to see another way. Until they decide to not hurt anymore. Because they couldn't stand it anymore. This is not selfish. It's not weak. It just means that they fought far too long. 

Depressions are not selfish.
They are not a weakness.
They are an illness.

And please, if you feel like there is no way left than death, if you feel like you can't be happy anymore, if you feel like the emptiness is growing over you - search for help. It's not weak to get help. You can talk at hotlines, you can make a therapy, you can write in communities, you can take medicine - and hopefully you can talk to friends and family. It shouldn't be a taboo to talk about mental illnesses. So to everyone not suffering from a mental illness: do not stigmatize. Listen. Be there. Get help. And don't criticize and don't hand out advices like: "Just decide to be happy", "Take a holiday", "It's not that bad, just go out in the sun!". It's not a phase, it's not bad behaviour, it's an illness we should start taking seriously. Because it is serious. It can kill us all. 

Should´ve stayed", were there signs I ignored?
Can I help you not to hurt anymore?
We saw brilliance when the world was asleep,
there are things that we can have, but can´t keep.

Who cares if one more light goes out?
In the sky of a million stars
it flickers.
Who cares when someone´s time runs out,
If a moment is all we are?
Well I do. 

And you´re angry and you should be, it´s not fair.
Just cause you can´t see it doesn´t mean it isn´t there.

Who cares if one more light goes out?
Well I do.
I do."

Linkin Park - One more Light

Donnerstag, 6. Juli 2017

Nur ein kurzer Gedanke...

Vor Kurzem musste ich ein prüfungsrelevantes Referat an der Uni halten. Entschieden habe ich mir für das Thema "Psychische Erkrankungen bei Studenten". Und neben all den Fakten und Zahlen habe ich auch über meine eigene Erkrankung gesprochen und darüber, wie es mir damit geht. 

Meine Dozentin meinte danach zu mir, wie unglaublich mutig das doch von mir gewesen sei. 


Es sollte nicht mutig sein.

Es sollte völlig normal sein, dass wir darüber reden, so wie wir auch über ein gebrochenes Bein oder einen Herzinfarkt reden. 


Wir reden über physische Probleme jeden Tag. "Mein Rücken tut so weh!", "Ich hab mir den Knöchel verstaucht" oder "Mein Miniskus bringt mich noch um!". Und jeder bekommt dafür ein "Oh nein, du Arme!" oder "Das ist so scheiße, so geht es mir auch ständig" zu hören. Und das ist okay. Ein schmerzender Rücken ist scheiße. Total. Damit lebe ich auch schon seit Jahren und es ist alles andere als angenehm. Genauso wenig wie ein verstauchter Knöchel, schmerzende Knie, ein gebrochenes Bein/Arm/Rippe oder Kopfschmerzen. Aber wieso können wir nicht genau so über psychische Probleme sprechen? Wieso fällt es uns so schwer zu sagen, dass wir uns schlecht fühlen? Dass die Depression mal wieder mit aller Macht zurück kommt? Dass wir Panikattacken und Angstzustände haben? Wieso ist das nicht genauso gesellschaftlich akzeptiert? Gebrochene Knochen bekommen Mitleid, eine gebrochene Seele, ein broken mind nur abschätzige Kommentare oder Ignoranz. 

Es sollte nicht mutig sein, über psychische Erkrankungen zu sprechen. Ich halte mich nicht für mutig, weil ich genau das tue - nicht nur im anonymisierten Internet, sondern auch in der realen Welt. Ich bin nicht mutig, ich bin einfach nur ehrlich. Ich habe durchaus auch einige Zeit gebraucht, um mir darüber klar zu werden. Und um mich zu trauen, es offen anzusprechen. Doch dann dachte ich mir: "Irgendwer muss ja damit anfangen, oder?". Und ab diesem Zeitpunkt habe ich offen über meine psychischen Erkrankungen gesprochen, mit Freunden, Familien, im Internet, mit Kommilitonen oder Fremden, die blöde Fragen stellten. Es geht hier um etwas, das ein großer Teil meines Lebens und meines Ichs ist. Es geht hier um mich und meine Gesundheit. Und darüber möchte ich offen sprechen können, egal ob es um Kopfschmerzen, Migräne oder Rückenschmerzen oder eben um Depressionen, Angststörungen oder Bipolare Störungen geht. Psychische Erkrankungen sind nichts, wofür man sich schämen muss. Im Gegenteil! Wir kämpfen jeden Tag und das können wir auch offen "zugeben". Wir können darüber sprechen und wir sollten dafür keine Probleme oder blöde Kommentare bekommen. 

Lasst uns endlich damit anfangen, psychische Erkrankungen als das anzusehen, was sie sind: Erkrankungen. Nichts Eingebildetes. Nichts nur für "schwache Weicheier". Es sind ebenso Krankheiten wie ein Herzinfarkt, Krebs oder ein Schlaganfall. Sie sind ebenso real wie Schwangerschaften, Autounfälle oder Abschlussprüfungen. Und sie sind ebenso ernst zu nehmen wie Multiple Sklerose, Lungenentzündungen oder Borreliose. 
Es ist vielleicht psychisch, es ist vielleicht "unsichtbar", aber das heißt nicht, dass es nicht dennoch real ist! 

Lasst uns endlich damit aufhören, all das zu verheimlichen. Lasst uns stattdessen damit anfangen, Menschen darüber aufzuklären und ihnen zu zeigen, was es heißt, krank zu sein. Damit sie es eines Tages hoffentlich verstehen und akzeptieren, als das was es ist: eine ganz normale Krankheit.  

Ich bin nicht mutig, aber ich will ehrlich sein.