Every year...and three years gone

***Possible Trigger Warning***

Every year, in the weeks leading up to my birthday, I struggle with some pretty severe suicidal depression.  It's kind of hard to explain why it happens.  I guess it's the idea of facing another year.  Another year of facing this relentless depression.  I start hoping, even praying, that I won't make it to my birthday, that I won't have to go on another year in this darkness.  I make plans.  Maybe not always the when, but the how.  It starts plaguing my mind, it's all I can think about.  The weight starts getting so heavy that sometimes all I can do it cry.  Whether I'm at work, driving, at home, at the store, etc.

The thing is, there is something that helps relieve the weight, something I relied on for so long- hurting myself.  It's something I've struggled with since I was somewhere around 12 or 13 years old.  I went through periods of being able to go months without acting, and then I'd give in again.  At one point I went two years, then I gave in.  Last time I hurt myself was November 2015.  I honestly thought I was past this.  But it was still a DAILY struggle.  I had to fight the urge to give in every freakin day of those two years and nine months.  This week...I gave in.  It was pretty minor, but it happened. I was lonely.  I was hurting.  I just wanted a break.  I just wanted some relief.  I'm not sharing this for attention, or for pity.  I'm sharing this because I don't want  to be ashamed.  It's how I cope.  It's how I survive.  I know it's not great, but it's not as simple as just "not doing it."  I want to be open about my experiences so that other people can understand better and so others struggling don't feel so alone.  Except this week, I found myself trying to find ways so that people wouldn't see my arms, being grateful that a restaurant was chilly during a family dinner so I wouldn't have to have a conversation about it.  The truth is, as much as I want to be open and fight the stigma and help people understand, I am also embarrassed and ashamed that after 15+ years, I'm still relying on this just to survive.  And the truth is, it makes me feel better, but I know I'm not supposed to have that kind of attitude.  I'm supposed to feel bad, I'm supposed to avoid acting on it.  But it helps...

I'm just angry and frustrated.  I just don't want to fight anymore. I'm tired and angry that after years of fighting this depression, after finally having a breakthrough earlier this year and having a few really great months, it's back.  It's heavy, it's dark.  I want an escape because I honestly do not feel like I can keep going on anymore...

Anyways, there's an article I cam across recently that I think EVERYONE should read, ESPECIALLY if you have kids or teenagers, or work with them in any way.  None of the adults in my life reacted like this in any way when they had suspicions that I was cutting, and truthfully, if they had, I may have been more willing to open up or try to get help soon.
https://metro.co.uk/2018/08/30/what-children-who-are-self-harming-need-the-adults-in-their-lives-to-know-7893346/?ito=cbshare