In my early twenties, I was diagnosed with Manic Depression, now commonly known as Bipolar Disorder. I had suicidal thoughts every day for nearly a decade, starting from my late teens. I wanted to die. Every night I would fall asleep to a tear-soaked pillow, begging a cruel, invisible God to have the mercy to let the bed swallow me up so I could disappear, and every morning I would wake up with strands of clumped tear-dried hair, furious that I was still alive.
On multiple occasions, I’ve held a knife to my wrist and neck and a gun to my mouth and temple. And on every occasion, I was too scared to follow through.
Weak. Loser. Can’t even kill yourself. Can’t go on living and can’t go on dying. You’re pitiful. Useless. One quick little push through the flesh, one tiny little squeeze of the trigger, that’s all it takes. And yet, you can’t even get that right. The world would be a better place without you in it, taking up so much worthless space. You’re a disgrace.
These are the thoughts that went through my head every day. Pretty crazy, huh? And yet, that was my reality. I was living in a black hole, its powerful gravity sucking me in, pulling me down. I desperately tried to claw my way out of it but it was a constant struggle to hold on, to stay alive just one more day. And the worst part?
No one understood. In a world of 6 billion people, I was alone.
Everyone else seemed happy and unaffected, light and carefree. I was the opposite, I felt EVERYTHING, especially the darker, heavier emotions. Little things made me so sad and I cried all the time. Somehow I missed the memo on how to be happy. Or maybe I just wasn’t good enough to deserve what everyone else seemed to have.
The ones who were close to me tried to help, but it always made me feel worse. I remember the utterly helpless look in my mom’s eyes one day when I was visiting her in St. Louis. We were in her kitchen, she was cooking bacon over the stove, flipping each wavy piece with a fork as they sizzled in the oil. She stopped between pieces, turned and asked me, for the hundredth time, why I was so sad. I was sitting at the table alone and looked up at her, wanting desperately to have an answer for her. But I didn’t. There was no one reason. I couldn’t point my finger to anything and say, “This is it. This is the reason I’m depressed.” It was a general all around feeling of hopelessness and unworthiness, of not belonging here. And “sad” was such an insulting understatement to how I really felt. When I tried to explain all that to her, her eyes died and I saw the dark clouds that surrounded me starting to envelop her. I felt her helplessness, in addition to mine.
It’s one thing to be depressed myself. It’s another to see my suffering spread to someone I love dearly. That was when I learned to put on a fake smile, to pretend that things were OK when deep down I wanted nothing more than to die. I never wanted to see that look in my mom’s eyes again.
And I never did. But years later, I discovered that she had learned how to put on a fake smile too. When I pretended that everything was OK, she pretended to believe me.
Because she didn’t know what else to do.
And the worse thing for a parent is to see their child in pain and not be able to help them.
So I wrote this letter to my mom, and all the moms and dads and loved ones who know someone battling depression. If you really want to help them, study this letter closely. Take it into your heart, commit yourself to the steps involved. It may not seem like much, and it may even be impossible at times, but let me take your hand and guide you into the mind of your daughter, your son, your husband, wife, friend, sister. Allow me to show you how you can help them through their darkness so they can emerge on the other side, lighter, happier, free from their despair that keeps them shackled and living the joyous life they truly want and are fully capable of having.
I live on that other side now.
The dark days of the heavy clouds no longer control, overwhelm, trap and suck me into their pits of despair. Now, it’s not about how I can die, it’s about how I can live, how I can experience even more joy. I wake up every morning with a playful, lighthearted enthusiasm bursting out of me, I can’t wait to face the day. When I go to sleep at night, I want to hurry and fall asleep so I can wake up and do it all over again.
I roll over and see my boyfriend sleeping and I feel an overwhelming sensation of belonging and appreciation. We have tickle fights, him, me and his 12 year old daughter, and we all collide, bodies and limbs crashing together on the carpet laughing until our bellies hurt and our jaws ache, our two dogs licking and pawing, jumping all over us, wanting to be part of the fun.
I have more than enough energy to go rock climbing, skydiving and hiking all in one day. I don’t snap at people, I’m not annoyed easily and I have mental clarity, awareness and presence to spend quality time with my family and loves ones. I’m not an outsider anymore and I’m no longer living in my head or inside my dark tunnel of self-pity. In fact, I look in the mirror and absolutely adore the woman staring back at me.
My mom and I have what we call laugh attacks where we laugh so hard we cry and we don’t even know why. One of us might have said something mildly funny and that’s enough to set us off into crazy contagious laughter that spreads to my sisters and anyone within an earshot radius.
I feel bold and courageous and I welcome challenges, knowing if I can get through an entire decade of wanting to kill myself (that’s 3,650 days!), I can get through anything. What doesn’t kill me only makes me stronger. And damn, am I strong. If you look up strong in Wikipedia, you’ll see my picture. And I’ll have a real, genuine smile, not a fake upside down frown.
If you want to help your loved one get to this other side, this letter’s for you.
I know that everyone’s different, and depression is not the same for every person and what works for one may not work for another. But hopefully, this can serve as a general guide to help you into the mind of your loved one. I went back in time and wrote it, from the point of view of where I was in my darkest days. I wish my mom had this letter back then, if not for me then at least for her own sanity. And I wish I had this letter too, so I could soothe myself when I was unsoothable.
If you’re depressed, maybe this letter can soothe you too, to soften even 1% of your pain, because sometimes that’s all it takes to get through to the next moment. I also recorded a personal video where I answered my readers’ top 4 questions about depression. You can see it here.
Dear Mom,
I hate seeing that look in your eyes. The one that tells me your heart is broken. And worse, that I’ve broken it. It churns my stomach and frankly, disgusts me to know I am the reason you feel so helpless. I know you feel like a failure, like a bad mother. Please let me assure you that’s the furthest thing from the truth.
I know you want to help me. And believe me, there’s nothing more I want than to be helped (except the times I’d rather just die), to feel good again. Or maybe even for the first time. I don’t even remember what good feels like. Did I ever feel good?
All I know now is darkness, heaviness, and suffocation. I can’t breathe, mom. It’s like there’s not enough air, like someone turned down the oxygen level on earth, except everyone else seems to be breathing just fine. I’m gasping for air but there’s not enough to take in. I’m dying. Slowly. Painfully. Withering away.
I want to get it over with and die already. I’m tired of suffering, of feeling so bad all the time, and I’m tired of watching everyone around me try to make things better only to make things worse. And then I feel even more at fault for making everyone feel so bad, and that makes me feel like an even bigger piece of shit than I already am. It’s just a never-ending cycle of shitdom.
Remember when dad used to rip off my band-aids? I wanted him to go slow because I was scared and it hurt. But he yanked them off in one quick pull. I never liked it, it always hurt, but it was over in 2 seconds. That’s why I want to die. It will hurt but at least it will be over quickly. At least then it will be done. End of story. No more pain. I’m already hurting anyway, let’s just get it over with.
But you know what, mom? Despite how incredibly freeing that sounds, there’s a small – but loud – part of me that inherently knows it really won’t be over. Maybe for me, who knows. But certainly not for you, dad or my sisters. You will all have to live with my choice for the rest of your lives. And I think that’s what keeps me going. I cause enough pain in life, I don’t want to cause anymore in death. Then I’d really be a piece of shit, wouldn’t I?
You see, mom, you don’t realize how much you are helping me simply by being alive. Your life is the reason I am not dead. So how could that possibly make you a failure? In my book, that makes you a Savior. When I hold the sharp steel blade to my wrist summoning up the courage to slice through the skin, you’re in the background of my mind. Knowing how devastated you would be if I took my own pitiful life makes me put away the knife and pretend, just for one more day, to be happy.
You try all these things, you tell me to look on the bright side, smile more, fake it til I make it, do this and do that, and while none of it helps, I know your intentions are pure. You really are trying to help. But it’s not working. And I see sometimes when you get frustrated and angry, you’re not so much angry at me, you’re angry at your own inability to help, your own helplessness. But you lash out at me because I’m the one standing there reflecting your own helplessness back at you. I’m the one in front of you still in my suffering as proof of how helpless you truly are, how futile your attempts despite everything you’ve tried. And I know, you have tried and tried. And tried. It must be tiring for you, mom. You must be exhausted.
So let me tell you what would help. And I’m sorry if this hurts you to hear, but I have to be blunt and honest or else you won’t hear it. And I won’t be saved.
1) Enough with the fake it til you make it crap.
I don’t want to turn my frown upside down. Do you honestly think a simple direction change of the curvature of my lips will solve this deep, critical problem? If I had a knife stuck in my chest and a gaping 6-inch hole pouring out blood a gallon a minute, would you suggest putting one of those tiny round bandaids on it to make everything all better? That’s exactly how it feels to be told to look on the bright side and think positive thoughts. I have a knife in my chest, I’m bleeding to death, there is no bright side and no amount of positive thinking will close the wound.
2) Sad is different than depressed.
Sad is when we lost Aunt Margie to cancer. Depressed is when I’ve lost myself. Sad is wishing she was still alive. Depressed is wishing I was dead like her too. I feel dead inside. There’s no one home. Only, someone must be home because that someone is exhausted, numb and aching all at the same time.
3) Being depressed is like having a constant dense fog follow you around 24/7.
Only it’s not just surrounding you, it’s inside you. In your brain. I can’t think clearly, it’s foggy in here. I feel like I’m stuck in someone else’s eternal nightmare. And it’s not just a mental thing, I feel it in my bones, and if I had a soul, I’d say it’s permeated my soul too. But somewhere underneath, over, around, in or through the fog, there’s something else in me, mom, I don’t know who or what it is, but this something, this someone, screams at the top of her lungs, begging, shouting to be heard, to be free. She wants out of the fog but it’s too thick, I can’t see her. I only have a sense she’s there but sometimes I don’t hear her at all and I think she’s died or moved on or decided I’m just not worth fighting for. But she’s in there, always fighting and kicking and yelling. Sometimes I hate her. I wish she would shut up. I think she’s the one keeping me from pulling the trigger. Because if I go, she goes. And she doesn’t want to die. Her will to live is tenacious. And annoying.
4) Stop trying to fix me.
I am what I am. I might be broken and shattered into a million different pieces on the cold, hard floor but don’t try to sweep me up and glue me back together. Just let me be broken and messy right now. Your full acceptance of my brokenness, of my pain, may be the difference between a healthy wrist and one that’s been plunged into with a knife. Just let me be. I feel everything deeply. I’m too sensitive. I don’t know that I will ever come out of this. From where I sit, the world looks bleak and the future dimmer. But you know otherwise. You have hope. You feel joy. You see light. You actually laugh. A real deep-from-your-belly kind of laugh. I cannot convince you to come to my side to know what I know just as you can’t convince me to come to your side and know what you know. So if you can hold on to what you know, and let me hold on to what I know, eventually your knowing might permeate mine. Eventually, your light will seep into the cracks of my knowing and one day, it might eradicate all the darkness and fog. But not now. I’m not ready. If I was, that one day would be today and I wouldn’t be writing this letter.
So instead of trying to fix me or force a change, trust in the power of acceptance. Accepting me as I am, especially at a time when I don’t accept myself, is the most powerful gift you can give me. Just think about it. All day every day I tell myself what a failure I am, how wrong and weak and stupid I am. I feel broken, defective, left behind. I feel unworthy, inadequate and a burden. It doesn’t help me to have you validate those feelings in me by trying to change and fix them. You’re basically saying, “You’re right. You are defective, you are a burden.” If I wasn’t, you wouldn’t try so hard to fix me and I wouldn’t see that helplessness in your eyes.
I know it’s really hard for you to watch your little girl in so much pain, and your motherly instincts are going haywire trying to make it all better, but I am telling you now, if you could resist your temptation to “make it better”, put aside your urgency to fix things, and just BE HERE WITH ME, in my presence, in full acceptance of where I am right now, I will get better faster than any other tools, tactics, and tricks you use to try to fix me.
I know your mind is freaking out right now. That can’t be enough, you’re thinking. There must be something more you can do. Just sit back and accept that your baby’s on the verge of suicide every day? Hell no!
I get it, mom. And you’re right. There is more you can do. If you don’t heed any of the above and just do this one thing I’m about to show you, you will still help me tremendously, and I guarantee you, if you do this consistently, exactly the way I show you, in time, I will rise out of this depression. In time, I will get better. In time, your baby will rediscover her worth, learn new ways to think and behave, and she will be happy again. It is possible. And here’s how.
5) Two words: Listen, Repeat.
That’s it. If I say to you, “Mom, nothing’s going right in my life. My boyfriend dumped me, I don’t have any money for rent, and I feel like a failure.” I want you to say back to me, “You’re saying nothing’s going right in your life. Your boyfriend dumped you, you don’t have any money for rent, and you feel like a failure. Am I hearing you right?”
Or you can paraphrase it by saying, “You feel like a failure because everything’s going wrong, you don’t have rent money and your boyfriend left, right?”
I want you to keep doing this until I stop talking. Keep listening to what I say and keep repeating it back to me. Eventually, I will run out of things to say. It might take 5 minutes, 15 or 30. But I will stop and I will feel exponentially better.
How does this work?
This kind of active or reflective listening was developed by a brilliant psychologist and founder of the Humanistic Approach to psychology, Carl Rogers. The idea is that everyone longs to be listened to, acknowledged and understood. We all want to be heard and validated. Even if what we have to say isn’t true, our need to be understood is more important than what we say. Depressed people need understanding the most because no one wants to listen to them or talk about it and eventually people fall away or distance themselves.
Understandably so. If I tell you I’m a useless failure and you spend the next 20 minutes trying to convince me otherwise while my eyes gloss over, both of us will end up frustrated and banging our heads against the wall. It will not be as effective as if you spent 5 seconds repeating my feelings back to me. In doing this, you validated that my feelings are important, and showed me that you care enough to listen and truly hear me – even if you vehemently disagree.
People always make sense in their view of the world. Instead of dismissing what they think as crazy or untrue, try to understand their view. Even if it’s ridiculous.
When you start listening and repeating what I say, I feel as though you aren’t dismissing me and that you’re actually trying to understand me.
Sometimes just being acknowledged and understood is enough to catapult me into a softer feeling place so I can think more clearly and cope better.
This seems too simple to work and you’re surely having doubts, but all I can say is try it. My world is very dark, mom. I’m here all alone and no one wants any part of it. The only ones I can talk to who understand are other depressed people. And we both know you can’t lift someone out of quicksand if you’re stuck in it yourself. Will you please be the hand I reach for to help me keep my head above the surface? I have no one else. Not even myself.
Thank you, mom, for everything you do. And I’m sorry I’m such a lousy killjoy of a daughter. One day I will make it up to you. One day, with your help, maybe we can go for ice cream on the beach, lay down a blanket in the sand and watch the sun set into the ocean together. And maybe I’ll turn to you, happy tears in my eyes, and thank you for not just giving me life, but for saving it. I love you forever.
Your depressed daughter
If you or a loved one is suffering from depression, here are some helpful resources:
Your Questions Answered About Depression A personal video I recorded answering my readers’ top 4 questions about depression.
American Foundation for Suicide Prevention 1-800-273-TALK (1-800-273-8255). Offers 24/7 confidential support and resources if you or someone you know is contemplating suicide. For hearing and speech impaired with TTY equipment: 1.800.799.4TTY (779-4889)
Project Hope and Beyond A free, supportive online community for persons with unrelenting depression and anxiety, as well as their families and friends who want to better understand them. Its purpose is to offer support and hope to people whose conditions are lasting or difficult to treat, those who often fall through the cracks of today’s healthcare system.
Erika’s Lighthouse A great site raising awareness for teenage depression. Offers a quiz to find out if you need help for depression as well as a free toolbox for teens suffering from depression.
To Write Love on Her Arms A non-profit movement dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury, and suicide. TWLOHA exists to encourage, inform, inspire, and also to invest directly into treatment and recovery.
Families for Depression Awareness Helps families recognize and cope with depression and bipolar disorder to get people well and prevent suicides.
MoodNetwork Turn your depression into a way to help others by sharing your experiences, thoughts and ideas with the MoodNetwork so they can find better treatment options.
Thank you so much for sharing this. I’m sitting here with my laptop on my bed just crying my eyes out. Thank you for allowing me to cry again. I resonated with some points you listed here. Especially how your family was the main factor for you to not do it. And I’ve contemplating whether or not I should move on. Before reading this, I felt alone and helpless. But now I feel relieved and in a better state that I was before. Finally someone who understands. Thank you again, KT
All the bs generalizations about a suicidal condition, the stated so called facts about passing time, the assumptions of naive perspective of a person with over three decades of struggle, the shear lack of imagination, the ”have you tried sports?” solutions to an athlete, the ”your wife will miss you” arguments to a fundamentally lonely, broken and flawed person. The ”it will get better” motivational vomit to someone who is ill or disabled beyond fixing.
This post has none of it. It is real experience. Written with insight and delicate understanding of the situation.
Thank you.
“begging a cruel, invisible God to have the mercy” tears fell down when i read this scentence.
Thanks, this really helped to verbalise how I’m feeling… it’s still really difficult though
You’ve saved a life today. Thank you for putting into words what I couldn’t. I needed this, I’ve emailed it to myself for the inevitable future time when I’ll need it again. Thank you.
Thank you so much for sharing your story
Thank you for helping others. I’m a mom and it was too late for me. She’s gone at the age of 20. I should have opened my eyes. I NEVER thought she was depressed. She’s gone and life will never be the same. It’s like learning to walk with one leg. Keep helping others. I only wish I had found this article sooner.
I needed this so much. I thought I was completely alone in this. I’m in college, and I desperately need my parents to understand that it’s not their fault I’m so sad. I’ve seen that look in their eyes that you talked about many times. It’s absolutely awful. My parents care about me so much and are amazing supporters but they just don’t understand the depths of depression I’m feeling. My dad told me he just wants me to be happy, and it broke my heart because I have no reason to not be happy, I’m just not. And I know my pain is hurting them too. This is why I could never kill myself. It would KILL my family, and I would (and will) rather suffer for the rest of my life than do that to them. But it really is suffering. Thank you for this article
This really hits hard. I got kicked out of my grandmother’s house because she simply couldn’t cope with my state of being. She kept saying I was normal [whilst other times would describe my behavior as NOT normal] that everyone goes through depression and suicidal thoughts, that I just need to “stuck it up and keep moving”. She didn’t want to hear my “excuse” that I was diagnosed with Manic Depression and PTSD.
I tried to educate her about depression and how I just needed her to understand and accept the situation. I am in the treatment stages and learning to cope with my mental disorder and yet she has no patience to let me be.
And because of some cruel things she had said, my trust in her has shattered and I lost a support system that I thought would be unconditional. So I’ve had a setback today and relapsed into my suicidal thinking. I am glad I have seen this blog. Everything in this is exactly what I experienced and I know I’m not alone now.
Perhaps if your mom could understand this letter, then maybe my grandmother can… I wish she could.
Thank you for this, I had to have a very difficult discussion with my parents today and I was dreading it. I found this a few hours before and it gave me the confidence to write it all down and know that it was ok to address how I’m coping (or not) in this way without them trying to come up with another useless bit of advice instead of really listening. Do you know what, it worked really well, I said what had been building for so long and the world didn’t end. There are still some issues but I feel far more equipped to deal with them now. Reading your story has given me courage and hope, I’m so happy for you that you’re in such a good place now. ❤️
Thank you so much for sharing. My son is struggling every day. I am going to share this with him.
Thank you! This came just in time
Thank you for the lovely article and letter. It really touch my heart.
Thank you Tree for sharing this. I dealt with depression for several years. It started as a teen and followed me through college. Everything in this letter is accurate to a T. I felt like dying for years and was too ashamed to admit it. I pretended I was happy so that no one would worry (especially my mom) but inside I felt absolutely helpless, like I had no control over anything. I wish I had found you sooner, Tree. But to those of you struggling, you are not alone!! I feared that my depression would never end, but I have come out on the other side stronger than ever. There is hope.
Thank you. Thank you for being the voice I can’t find. Thank you for understanding and putting it into words I never could. Thank you for giving me something I can give to my mom to explain to her it’s not her fault. Thank you for being brave enough to share this publicly so that I could run across it while googling “how do I tell my mom I want to die?”. Thank you for the small peace of knowing I’m not the only one who feels like this. Thank you.
This is a beautiful article – thank you! What if you have no one to be there to understand or support you through any of this? I particularly like Step 5: Listen, Repeat. I think being listened to, acknowledged, and understood would go a long ways toward my healing.
I was also wondering if you take meds for your bipolar disorder?
Thank you. XOXO
HI Janna! I don’t take meds for it, never have. I don’t agree now with that doctor’s diagnosis for me. In terms of not having anyone there for support, I HIGHLY and STRONGLY recommend joining a support group such as http://community.projecthopeandbeyond.com, finding a good therapist or in extreme desperate moments, calling the Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255). Also, I am willing to bet that there is always SOMEONE you know who (even if it’s a coworker), if you showed this article to, and told them you just need someone to listen in this moment… that they would be there for you. Many people struggle with this quietly. They may appear happy and together to the world, but inside they are suffocating. They may be relieved to hear that you are going through a similar thing because then they don’t have to struggle through it alone either. Follow your gut, there’s someone you know that you have a pull toward, that you sense something about them that’s a little different from everyone else you interact with. Maybe you like them but don’t know why. Maybe you feel a little more trusting of them but don’t know why. There is always someone, whether it’s a family member or someone you work with or a friend of a friend you met only a couple times. We are not alone in this world and we are all put into each others lives for a purpose. If you prefer to seek support from someone you know instead of a group or therapist, my suggestion is to trust your instinct and reach out to that person in openness and truth. Scary, but if it helps start the conversation, show them this article first and give them time to read it. Hope this is helpful! Much love to you, Janna.
I’ve never felt so understood. Nobody understand how I feel , but to know you easily conquered yourself is inspiring me
thank you
Momindespare,
My daughters just gave me your letter to read in hope of it helping me help her. Thank you for sharing it. This is the first glimpse of hope I’ve experienced in knowing how to help my little girl.
Lori, you’re welcome. It’s my deep pleasure to offer you a glimpse of hope. Please send my love to your daughter.
Today my Partner gave me your letter….. She said “I wanted you to read it to gain some insight. How I feel is how I feel and it’s not about you.” “I shared this with you to show you that I trust you.” up until now I didn’t think she trusted me or that I could do anything right for her, but now I see what I have been doing and how trying to fix it was not the way to help.
THANK YOU.
I’m the light side in her life. and before today I was feeling broken and dark because I couldn’t fix it for her, just like your mom. After reading this I feel like I have the insight to just let her be. It really helped me understand the place she is in. I’m going to read it as many time as I need so I can absorb what she is trying to get me to see….
Thank you again….
K – you are so welcome. Your partner is lucky to have such a caring light by her side. I am certain it took quite a bit of courage for her to give you this letter. This shows me that both of you have built a loving, trusting and intimate relationship together and it has great potential to soar, as it already is (even if it doesn’t feel like it sometimes). Much love and peace to you and your partner. Thanks for sharing this, you’ve made my day to know that I can help.
I have just found your website and your article, and I really like it. Sometimes I feel like it was written about myself. I don’t have the bipolar disorder, and I don’t know what is wrong with me, but I live in black and white periods and sometimes the black turns into a depression. And few months ago I have also wanted to kill myself. But I felt something similair as you about your mom and I also felt like I am even not good enough to kill myself as you did. Just…thanks for helping me order my thoughts about it and thanks for letting me know I am not the only one with those feelings. All the best for you!
Hi Tereza. Thanks so much for sharing here. The reason you don’t know what’s wrong with you is because there is nothing wrong with you. You are perfect as you are, black, white, dark, light – all of it. Much love to you.
Thank you. I’m lying here crying my heart out. You got it. The only reason I’m not dead is because my mum and family are keeping me alive by just existing. I have to get through this fog and pain to get to the other side where I may be able to experience happiness. Everything you say describes how I feel. I’m so alone, but now, I know someone else gets it. Thank you.
Hi gLC. I’m touched that my story has affected you so deeply and made you feel not so alone. You truly are NOT alone despite how it feels. If I can get through this fog and pain, so can you. I am not any more special than the next person, and you can and will rise out of it too. I know this for you. I’m happy to connect privately, feel free to email me. Love, Tree