When Depression Makes You Question If Life Is Worth Living, Read This
Nights are the worst for many people with depression. Too much time to think, too much time alone and too much darkness. Most of my friends know this, but it’s hard when they’re not awake or if I know they’re doing something else, I don’t want to bother them. Yet, sometimes I have to. Sometimes, I just need someone to tell me life is worth living. Depression is a monster that infests your head with lies until they become your truth. And its most potent, most dangerous and most infectious lie is that your life does not have value and is not worth living.
This lie has become my truth on and off for years. Sometimes, it lingers in my head for only a few hours, but sometimes it’s day in and day out for weeks, even months. “You don’t deserve to be here, you’re not worth it. Why do you keep trying? You’re not getting better, you never will. Just. Give. Up. Already.” It screams at you, it’s deafening. And even if you don’t believe it, having someone tell you that life is worth living, that your life is worth living, that they want you here — it’s powerful.
There was a night a while back when that lie was so loud I couldn’t hear myself think. I was desperate and even though I felt bad for reaching out, I pleaded to someone to just tell me it was worth it. She said: “Yes, absolutely yes,” and made plans to get food with me once I was back at school. That reminder alone meant so much to me, and then she sent me this:
“If you’re questioning life at all until then, I want you to reread this message, over and over, until you’re OK. Because I want to see you on Monday, and I’m going to see you. That’s not even a question.”
She didn’t say, “Buck up, you’re going to be fine,” or even something just as simple as, “Awesome, see ya then!” She cared enough to realize I was reaching out because I was hurting so much, and that hurt wasn’t going to simply disappear overnight. She said, “I’m going to see you. That’s not even a question.” Death and escape were not even possibilities as much as I may have wanted them to be because she wasn’t even going to entertain the idea of me not living until Monday. And if someone believed in me that much, way more than I believed in myself at the time, then maybe life was worth living.
I’m here to tell you that your life is worth living, that I believe in you. I know we don’t know each other, but I know that anything, or anyone, telling you otherwise is lying. Depression is a manipulative and maliciously persuasive liar and I know how easy it is to believe his lies. But they’re just that: lies. The truth is that you’re beautiful. That truth is that there is hope and light and joy ahead, no matter how much you don’t believe it right now. The truth is that you are worth it, and your life is worth it. Hold on just a little longer, my friend.
If you need support right now, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255, the Trevor Project at 1-866-488-7386 or reach the Crisis Text Line by texting “START” to 741741.
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