It’s easier to agree

I’m watching “The girl from Plainville” on STAN with tears in my eyes as I watch one of the main Characters “Coco” (Conrad. He was a real person who killed himself and his girlfriend Michelle encouraged it) struggling with depression, social anxiety (and maybe something else as he speaks of hearing voices and that doesn’t occur with depression or anxiety) and dealing with a tough life in general.

There’s a scene where Coco comes home from a stay in the hospital psych ward, and his family are so excited to see him “fixed” that when they ask – faces full of hope – “Are you feeling better?” Coco basically has no choice but to force a smile and say “Yeah”.

I get it. You don’t want to let the people you love down. I faced the same returning home from the Psych ward myself.

So I SEE you, Conrad. You are NOT alright and the pressure to act as if you ARE is so strong that it’s simply easier to say you are than to say: “I’m still as lost, broken, hurt, confused, discouraged and as f**ked up as I was before”

But it’s easier to just agree. It’s EASIER ON EVERYONE if you smile and say how much better you feel. I know. I do it too. Alllllll the damn time.

To compensate, I have what I call my “scream pillow” because I don’t know how else to cope when the pressure to be “happy, bubbly Janet” is too much and more often than not, I scream how I REALLY feel into that pillow.

Things like:

NO!!! I’M NOT OKAY!!!

I’M SUICIDAL.

I NEED MORE HELP!!!

NO, THE MEDS AREN’T WORKING!!! I’M TRYING SO HARD BUT THEY AREN’T FIXING ME!!!

I NEED TO BE IN HOSPITAL FOR LONGER THAN A MERE 3 WEEKS!!!

ACTUALLY, I’M NOT COPING.

I LITERALLY CANNOT GO ON LIKE THIS!!!

FUUUUUUUCCKKKKKK!!!

I MISS MY DAD

I CAN’T BEAR THE IMMENSE PRESSURE TO LOOK AFTER MY MOM. I CAN’T DO THIS!!!

But in real life? In real life, I’m taking myself on breakfast dates in the sun, I’m preparing to start a new job (TERRIFIED OF IT) on Monday. I’m paying bills, cleaning the house, hanging out washing, returning texts and emails, being there for friends and doing everything I can to stay alive.

“You must be excited about work, Janet”

NO F**KING WAY. I WANT TO DIE.

Out loud? “Yeah, I’m really blessed. It’s an exciting opportunity”

“Have you tried…medication/exercise/yoga/meditating/eating vegan/cutting out sugar/spiritual candles to feel better?”

I’ve been on SO MANY F*CKING variants of antidepressants that the GP is struggling to find anything new, actually.

I can’t exercise because I’m legit TERRIFIED to leave the house.

And crystals or sage??? Really??? Not for me, I’m afraid. I’ll cling to God – but you do you, by all means. No judgement here, I promise.

As for you, Coco…I’m sorry you had noone to be real with…apart from a girl who seemed like she tried her best for 2 years but didn’t have the age, wisdom, tools, knowledge or experience to keep helping you; so in the end…she did a vile, shocking thing and she commanded you to get back into you car (you were scared and wanted to back out of your suicide); filled with carbon dioxide…until you died.

Michelle helped kill you. There are no 2 ways about it.

My heart breaks that noone truly heard you.

I do. I hear you, Coco.

I know what it’s like and if I was your friend, I’d sit quietly by the beach with you for hours every day if that’s what you needed. I wouldn’t ask if you were better because there is NO FAST CURE for depression and the hell that anxiety brings. There just isn’t.

I’m so sad that you lost your life and I pray God saw your heart, had great mercy on you, held you tight and let you into Heaven where you can know what it’s like not to be afraid ALL THE EFFING TIME for once in your life.

Suicide isn’t painless.

But it sure is appealing after YEARS of silently suffering.

I hear you, Coco. I see you. I understand you.

I’m so very, very sorry you had to live like that and even sorrier you died like that.

Alone.

Hurting.

Misunderstood.

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