A picture says a thousand words. (I've thought a lot about posting about this, and am still feeling uneasy about it.) Confession: It's been less than half a year since I had attempted suicide. I'd show you the face of my depression prior, but I had hardly taken very many recent pictures, other than work related ones anyways. Most people wouldn't know this, but I had grown very self-conscious of myself. I had gained 40lbs within a year and had very few days where I actually felt okay with how I look. I mostly couldn't stand looking at my own face. Though, If we go back to that "day" you would have seen me spending time with friends dying our hair, and if you were to ask them, they would tell you that I seemed fine. But what I would have told you if I had the guts to open up to anybody else on a deep level other than my boyfriend.... I would have told you that I was tired, I was drained physically and mentally. I would have told you that I had been struggling for months, and that working nights was wearing more on my already broken soul. I would have told you that I didn't feel comfortable where I lived anymore and like any time I walked through the door I was walking on egg shells. I would have told you that I felt like I couldn't do anything right, and I was so sensitive that any sort of critical feedback would send me in a dark hole where I hated myself and could do nothing but think negative and cry. I would have told you that I didn't enjoy doing most things anymore, including spending time with friends, because it would feel so draining pretending to be okay all the time. I would have told you that I feel out of place, and that it doesn't seem like I belong. I would have told you that my depression was wearing on my grades in college. I went from straight A's, to C's or D's. People would blame it on my relationship, but truthfully I started struggling 1-2 months before him and I even met or knew about each other.... The world felt heavy, and I felt like a burden, but I seemed "fine".
