Another Look at My Depression

Missing In Sight asked me in the comments on My Thoughts on Integration - Part 4 Have you ever been so down on yourself you wanted to end it? How long and how did it take you to end up so positive and healthy? That question makes me think it has been a while since I posted about my problems with depression.

Part of why I believe it is important to keep bringing the subject up is because of questions just like this one from Missing In Sight. For me the purpose of this blog is to let survivors know there is hope. It really is possible to heal and be a "normal" (*if there is such a thing) person. No one is going to get that message if all I share is where I am now. The true picture of how far I have come is in knowing the depths of the depression that controlled me.


That means I need to share my experiences from all sides of this life of mine. I have not always been this positive about myself or my life and some days, I slip like everyone else. In the posts Depression and More on Depression I spoke to the subject some. But looking back at those posts, I don't think they come anywhere near telling the whole story.

In the posts I have done about my abuse, I have only posted the tip of the iceberg. The abuse that I suffered at the hands of the cult is beyond any one's wildest imagination. Many survivors feel that way I'm sure, but according to professionals in the field, the records indicate that most do not experience the extent of abuse that was perpetuated upon me. I only say this because I want survivors to believe that when I say it is possible to heal from such pain, that I know what I am talking about.

The depths of my depression were directly relative to the depths of my victimization. The darkness in the pit I lived in, I would imagine, directly mirrored the blackness of hell, not an imagined hell, but the real thing. Devoid of all love, light, compassion and joy. Filled with self-loathing and hatred and ruled by despair and evil in its most depraved form.

I could not imagine safety anywhere for me in the world. There was absolutely no hope left anywhere within my system and I could no longer see hope anywhere outside of my system. I was finished with life. Not even thoughts of my family could alleviate my pain, I was convinced they were better off without me, I was only dragging them down with me. I had totally given up. Not just one part of me, my entire system was done.

I'm probably typical for a survivor of ritualistic abuse or satanism in that I wanted to be dead rather than to feel anymore pain. It was important to me that the way I killed myself didn't cause me anymore pain than I was already feeling. It was equally important that it not be something that could be botched and leave me alive but dealing with even more pain and heartache. I didn't want my children or anyone in my family to find me. I actually had a plan that covered these issues.

I'm not going to share my plan because I don't want to give anyone any ideas. Those of you who suffer with depression don't need any more options to end it all. You need help to learn to get free of this pain.

I was in therapy at the time. My therapist realised that something had changed and she cornered me. I didn't tell her anything until she asked me point blank if I had a plan. I did share my plan with a therapist. She actually lied to me and told me my death would be painful but I knew better.

Because I was not openly threatening suicide, they couldn't lock me up. But this therapist knew I was playing a game and not being truthful with the people who had that power. It was only a matter of time before I turned up dead. Between the fact I had a plan and I was getting no help at home, this therapist arranged for a crisis intervention for me. I don't remember the different codes they used to assess risk of suicide but I was at the top of that list.

In a matter of hours they called in my husband and sat him down with me and a group of professionals. My husband was in total denial that I was even depressed, let alone suicidal. They wouldn't let us out of that room until he accepted that there was a problem because they knew without his support, I was a dead woman.

I can't say that that intervention was a turning point for my husband. He still has denial big enough for the entire state of Washington. But it was a turning point for me. The fact that five strangers would give of their valuable time sitting in a room trying to save my life made a big impression on me, well, some parts of me anyway.

At some level, the message got through that my life just might be important. The timing of this was just about the same as that mentioned in the later parts of the post A Little History The combination was just enough of a lifeline for me to be able to hold on until I started my "real" therapy.

To be continued..........

Part 2

multiple personality disorder MPD dissociative Identity disorder did depression