Today's post is part 1 of 2, the second part will be published tomorrow.

A short story...

It's been almost 8 years now since that horrible year in my life when I thought so much about killing myself. This won't be a sad story, I'll let you know from the start, but a story about winning. This is how I see it and feel it now.

That year I got to the lowest point of my existence: the failed long-term relationship, the feeling of being betrayed, the immense hate, the lack of any sense of accomplishment at the workplace, the financial restraints I suddenly found myself into, the awful sense of being completely alone in the whole wide world, the feeling that life has no meaning and there's no point to go on...

My mind, my soul, my heart, they were all in pains and my whole being was in a constant ache. All day I wanted to scream to the emptiness outside of me. I was in a very desolate place and I will never forget that year. But I don't know if I want to forget it. It has helped shape me and made me so much stronger than I ever was.

I contemplated the idea of taking my life. I was dreaming about how a simple gesture will end it all and how the world will simply continue without me in it. So fast and simple... I was in complete darkness and I was beyond sad and desperate. I used to think if I would cut my wrists, no blood would come out anyway, because it has all gone dry in my body. I cried so much, I got to a point where I thought I also didn't have tears in me anymore.

For me, what got me out of it and helped me, was the idea of those people I knew loved me, my family, and that they will not be ok without me. I thought about my grandma, that had died some short time before, who had loved me so dearly and helped raise me. I wanted her to be proud of me and not see me fall. And with these realizations, I knew there was no one who could help me if I didn't want help. I began to say I need help. I started saying that to myself every day and I started to look for help everywhere around me that I considered possible.

Out of fear of what I might do to myself, I started spending a lot of time with friends and family, forcefully in the beginning, but I realized it was helpful. I started praying and praying and praying, a lot, and talking to whom I saw fit about being in a poor state of mind. And that helped too. I started to read about depression, I meditated and I also discovered Moodscope. I took long walks in the park and dragged myself to the gym. I started playing the "Grateful for..." game, my own way of reminding myself every time of all the things I should be grateful for, that other people were not so fortunate to have and can only wish for.

I admitted to myself I need help and I need to be very gentle to my own self, I clinged to any nice moment and I tried to enjoy and live each moment fully. I know it would seem easy for those not having depression, but for me, at that time, it was a race against the clock, not to give into the weak moment of giving up on my life.

With all my love,

A Moodscope member.

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