Content Warning: The following blog/short story may contain sensitive content, including depictions of mental health challenges such as depression, anxiety, and suicide. While these topics are approached with care and are meant to promote understanding and awareness, they may be triggering or emotionally distressing for some readers. Reader discretion is advised. If you or someone you know is struggling with mental health issues, we encourage you to seek help from a qualified mental health professional or a helpline immediately.
Lying in bed, I found myself staring at the ceiling. I felt it all. The pain was unbearable. I couldn’t breathe. My chest was tightened but at the same time it felt as if it was to explode. My whole body ached. ‘I can’t’, I thought helpless. ‘I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.’ I tried to take a breath, only to be met by agonizing pain entrenched in my chest. It felt like having a knife stuck in it.
Tears welled up in my eyes, I just couldn’t hold them back. The pain was too strong. I shifted onto my side, burying my face in my pillow. Then I screamed. I didn’t want to wake any neighbours, but I needed to let it go. Hopefully the pillow would serve as a buffer. Sometimes, it helped releasing some of the pain. On other times, it didn’t. I was crying by now. My face still deep in the pillow, covering it in tears. With one hand I clung to the pillow with an intense grip, as if holding onto a lifeline, occasionally releasing my frustration through punches against the mattress. My other hand pressed against my chest, holding me together.
‘I cannot go through another day like this’, I thought. ‘What’s the point? What is the point in suffering a life instead of living it?’
I tried to keep it together, focusing on regulating my breath. Deep breath in, long exhale out. It worked. For about five breaths. And then, it didn’t. I began to hyperventilate, feeling unable to breathe again. I had to get up and move. How was I going to get more air into my lungs?
I walked around my little bedroom. It was still dark, although I could hear some traffic building up outside. It must’ve been early morning hours.
My phone beeped. Happy for the distraction, I looked at it, the bright light blinding me for a moment before the screen adjusted itself. It was Briana, the new girl at work. She had been working in our team over the past couple of months. She was nice and seemed like an honest girl. Interestingly, she lived just a few minutes away from my place, and whenever she drove to work, she offered me a ride. Like so this morning.
I sighed. I didn’t want to go to work. I didn’t want to pretend anymore or forcing a smile day in and day out. There was no energy left to do so, I felt depleted.
Yet, I felt like Briana was looking forward to her new job and finding someone trustworthy in a new environment was undeniably comforting. I didn’t want to let her down. However, the pain was unbearable. I didn’t know what to do.
I received another message from her. "Maia, are you coming in today?" I sat down on my bed again, my hand still holding my chest together. Then I texted back, letting her know that I’d be waiting for her outside my house. Heading into the bathroom, I got ready for the day ahead. It didn’t take me long and I made my way to the front door, where I slipped into my shoes. I turned around to look at my living space.
Boxes containing my belongings were still scattered throughout the room from my move here two years ago. Until this point, I had only unpacked the essential items, leaving the rest untouched. Many of these things were reminders of bad experiences – memories that were best left undisturbed and confined within their cardboard boxes.
My phone beeped, signalling Briana’s message, indicating that she was waiting outside. I took a few deep inhales, shutting my eyes, trying to block out the distressing thoughts and emotions. I knew I was damaged inside, but I tried hard to cover it up with a smile. Nevertheless, I didn’t know how much more strength I had left to do so. Stepping outside, I greeted Briana waiting in her car, faking a smile throughout the ride to work, while suppressing the tears that tried to come up.
A wave of relief washed over me when we finally reached the workplace, and I was able to hide in my cubicle. I hadn’t been very productive these days, which led me to meetings with my manager to discuss this matter. As usual, concluding the meetings she would ask about my wellbeing and as usual I would force the picture-perfect smile, assuring her that everything was indeed fine. I couldn’t comprehend the purpose behind that question. Did she hope for me to reply negatively, and tell her about all my pain and fears? Why would I trust her? How would that help me?
If I were to confess that I was reluctant to present the upcoming project to the team due to my overwhelming fear and lack of confidence, would she assign it to someone else? Most likely not. I wondered whether she simply sought a positive response to ease any concerns.
I noticed Briana being in a meeting with our manager and wondered if she had received a similar discussion to the one, I had had the other day. When Briana came back, she seemed tense, her gaze on the floor. I felt for her. Given that it was already lunchtime and being all too familiar with the aftereffect from such a meeting, I contemplated the idea of us grabbing some food together. When I got up, and made my way to her cubicle, I asked, “Wanna grab some lunch?”
She looked up at me briefly but then lowered her gaze clearly lost in thought. I allowed her a moment, but then waved my hand in front of her face to regain her attention. Closing her eyes and she shook her head, seemingly trying to clear her thoughts before responding, “Uuuh, yes, sorry! Yes, let’s go grab some food.”
Nervousness crept up on me the moment I found myself alone with someone. Despite only having known her for a couple of months, I liked her. She was a sweet, pretty girl, and I certainly didn’t want her to discover the extent of my broken, damaged inner self, liking the idea of perceiving me as ‘normal’. So, I tried my best to hide my weaknesses and project an image of having everything under control.
Seated at a table in the café next door, Briana seemed somewhat nervous as well. For a moment I wondered whether she struggled with similar challenges. However, she then began, “Maia, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask.” Uh-oh. Shoot. Here we go. An inner alarm started ringing. My mind and body went into a freeze state. ‘Has she figured something out? I can’t talk about it. I just can’t.’ My thoughts were racing through my mind.
Trying to hide my worries, I did what I could do best. I pretended. Thus, my lips formed a fake smile, and I replied, “Sure, go ahead. What’s up?” I let out a slow exhale, releasing a fraction of the tension, while hoping she wouldn’t notice.
Briana then sighed and asked, “how do you do it?”
Another whirlwind of thoughts rushed through my mind. What could she possibly be referring to? How could I prepare for this question and how could I potentially get out of it? Confused by her question, I asked, “how do I do what?” I took a bite of my sandwich, despite feeling unease about eating in front of others, I recognized this as an opportunity to think through my responses.
“Life”, she said. With my mouth still full, I grunted before blurting, “ha, what do you mean?”
She seemed uncomfortable, yet desperate. “Well, you know, everything just seems so…” Briana hesitated. I waited for her to complete the sentence. Eventually, she concluded with a single word, “effortless.” In response, I couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief. My life? Effortless? It really was the opposite. However, her perspective showed me that my efforts to hold myself together and hide the damage existing inside of me worked.
Noticing her desperation for an answer, I believed that some form of honesty was owed to her. “Briana, my life is anything but effortless. On the contrary, it’s a mess.”
Avoiding any further detail about my life, I steered the conversation back onto her. “But let’s not focus on me. What makes you think your life isn’t effortless?”
For a moment, disappointment flashed across Briana’s face. However, she somewhat managed to shake off the feeling and said, “hmm … you know what, forget it. It was a silly thought.” She chuckled, however, seemed uncomfortable. It looked like she had genuinely hoped for a proper answer. I felt a pang of sympathy for her, for being unable to provide a proper response. The thought gave me an instant pinch in my chest, reminding me of the deep pain and sorrow residing within, waiting for a chance to surface.
A sense of relief washed over me when she swiftly shifted the topic, asking, “How are you getting along with the new project?”
Our conversation continued about work matters, which I felt okay with. We stuck to the uncomplicated subjects, like the various projects I had been working on over the past couple of years, and the company culture. I believed I was making good conversation, yet each time I asked about her previous job experiences or background in general, she replied with jokes and shifted to a different subject. I wondered if we were more alike than I initially thought.
Fortunately, we left shortly after, and I was able to distract myself with my project. While the work itself wasn’t particularly enjoyable, it was the best distraction I could get from my thoughts.
Soon, I would see Briana approaching my desk. Swiftly glancing at the clock, I was aware she would offer me a ride home. Considering how much I struggled with making conversation during the car journey, anticipation unbearable, awkward silence, I made up an excuse about going to a gym class. She looked disappointed again, but then smiled and replied, “Oh, right, that’s okay. Have fun!” I thanked her, relieved that she understood.
From my cubicle, I had a clear view of the car park. I waited for Briana to leave, before getting up to pack my bag. Before I could sneak out, my manager rushed over to my desk. I sighed, not wanting to talk to her either. “Maia, before you leave, do you have a moment?” Everything in my body screamed no. I didn’t need this. I didn’t need another speech about her unrealistically high expectations both for work and individuals. But past experiences taught me that it was best to keep her happy. With a nod, I said, “Yes, certainly.” “Have you reached out to any of the clients from the list I emailed you earlier?” I swallowed hard. “No, I haven’t.” I responded honestly. “Why not?”, she asked in confusion.
The honest answer was that I didn’t feel like I was capable enough to carry out the work as expected. Just the thought of it filled me with tremendous anxiety, and I secretly wished she had asked someone with more experience. Anticipating that she would dismiss my honesty, I lied, “I was busy with the other project, I simply didn’t have the time.” My manager’s lips pressed into a straight line, clearly not impressed. "Perhaps you could consider having a slightly shorter lunch break with your new colleague tomorrow,"she hinted, indicating her awareness. Then, with a tone of insistence, she added, “I need you to do this tomorrow. No interruptions.”
Intimidated by her sternness, I simply nodded, grabbed my bag, and left.
Having Briana drive me to work in the morning left me with no alternative but to rely on the bus for transportation. Putting on noise cancelling headphones and immersing myself in music, I stepped into my own world. My own world of pain, sadness, and fear.
By the time I reached home, darkness had already settled. The day usually ended the same way it began. I wouldn’t eat much because my fridge held barely any food, and I preferred to avoid the supermarket. Then, I would open a bottle of wine, aiming to numb any rising emotions. Often, I would find the pain spreading through my physical body, particularly to my chest, back, neck, head, as well as arms and legs. Most of the times, it was so intense, I would take painkillers, hoping together with the alcohol, it would finally make a difference.
I couldn’t comprehend how I ended up into this situation. Where had I taken a wrong turn? When had I started making poor decisions without realizing? How had I become so utterly alone and isolated? Over the past two years, I’d held onto hope that someone would rescue me. That something good would finally happen, allowing me to experience a life filled with joy. Why was nothing positive ever happening to me?
Each day felt like a new challenge to the extent that I rarely left the house. I had been on sick leave many times, often unpaid, and I’d come up with different excuses. From having a cold or flu to an ear infection or food poisoning – I had it all. At least that was what I told my manager. It wasn’t like I wanted to stay at home. On the contrary, not having a distraction for the pain, and the isolation I felt was even worse. But sometimes, I simply couldn’t get out of bed. It was as if my legs were disconnected from my brain, resisting any command to move or stand up.
I didn’t know what to do or how to change my situation. The only thing I knew and told myself each night was that I couldn’t live through another day with this pain. I just couldn’t. The effort of pretending and forcing smiles cost so much strength and energy. Something, I clearly didn’t have. I just wanted it all to end. ‘Was I feeling suicidal?’ I asked myself. No, that wasn’t the case. I didn’t want to end my life. I wanted to end the pain.
Yet, the following morning inevitably arrived. There I was, gazing at my ceiling again. I had been crying and screaming for most of the night, but the pain didn’t stop. Now, as the morning dawned, I felt empty. I couldn’t feel anything. I even pinched myself, but I couldn’t feel it. Had my fingers even twitched? I couldn’t tell.
‘How was I still alive?’ I wondered.
My phone beeped. It was Briana, reminding me that, technically, I had a job to go to.
“Good morning, Maia! I’m going to drive to work today, would you like me to pick you up? I could be there in about an hour.” Her message read. I sighed, shaking my head as I thought, ‘I can’t.’
Considering the tasks, I had to face today, and envisioning what my manager would make me do today, my chest tightened, and I curled into a ball. Once again, the thought echoed in my mind, ‘I can’t. I just can’t do it. I can’t go there. I need to call in sick. Perhaps someone else could handle it.’
However, my thoughts shifted to Briana and my urge to try to keep everybody happy. The memory of my arrival here two years ago flooded back, along with the longing I had felt for a friend at work, one that I never found. She really was making an effort.
Briefly, I stepped into the bathroom, squinting as I flicked on the light. After a night of restless sleep – or in my case, no sleep – my eyes had become even more sensitive to light than on an average morning. When my eyes finally adjusted, I looked at myself in the mirror. Deep, purple rings cast shadows beneath my eyes. My skin looked pale. My hair needed a good brush. I looked like I was going to be in a zombie movie.
Glancing at Briana’s text again, I felt pressure welling up within me. Pressure to go to work, even though I wasn’t feeling alright. As so often, the pain felt unbearable.
Without giving it much more thought, I quickly texted back, “Yes, that’d be great, thanks. See you in a bit.”
While preparing myself, I tried to keep my hand pressed against my chest. I was certain that I would fall apart the moment I let go of it.
Before stepping outside, I leaned against my front door, my hand still clutched to my chest. ‘I can’t. I just can’t do it.’ The thought still echoed repeatedly in my mind. I had reached a point where I simply couldn’t continue. I couldn’t and didn’t want to pretend or force a smile.
Another beep from my phone. Knowing, it was Briana, I didn’t bother to take it out. My mind raced through potential excuses for not being able to join her. Yet, Briana was already here, being incredibly kind. I owed it to her.
With my heart pounding with loud thuds, I took a deep breath and turned the doorknob, opening the front door.
“Hey”, I greeted her as I stepped into the car.
“Hey”, Briana replied. I didn’t want to engage in conversation. No, I couldn’t. I didn’t know if I had the strength to talk, and I was fearing to crack. Once the tears would start flowing, it was almost impossible to stop. Briana seemed to sense that something was off, because she asked, “Everything okay?” ‘No, nothing is okay!’, I responded in my mind. ‘Nothing is freaking okay.’
I tightened my grip on my chest, trying to hold it together, trying to keep myself together.
I felt sorry for Briana; it wasn’t due to anything she did or didn’t do. I wished I could engage in a cheerful morning ride conversation with her, but I simply couldn’t. For a brief moment, I gazed out of the window, observing the cars and pedestrians passing by. Taking a deep breath, I swiftly responded, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”
I turned toward her, and smiled, trying my best to fake it. ‘What the heck am I doing here?’ I questioned myself. ‘I can’t do it. I just can’t.’
I felt trapped in my mind, and all I wanted was to get out. Out of this car, out of this town, this country – just out of this world.
“Are you sure?”, Briana asked again, interrupting my thoughts. “I’m happy to turn around if you’re not feeling okay.”
She really noticed that something was off. The façade was crumbling; I couldn’t keep up the act any longer. There was no energy to do so. With the persistent pain deep down in my chest, spreading to my physical body, nothing seemed like a distraction. I cleared my throat. “No, really, I’m okay. Let’s just go to work.”
Relieved to finally arrive at work, I hurried inside, giving a few coworkers a forced smile before rushing to my cubicle where I felt safer, a place to hide. However, it wasn’t long until my manager peeked around the corner. “Morning”, she said coldly. Before I could respond, she said in a harsh voice, “The clients. Today.” And with that, she left.
My hand instinctively reached for my chest again. I tried to breathe, but felt no air filling my lungs. ‘I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.’ My anxiety was unbearable. Uncertain of what to do, I gazed blankly at my screen, overwhelmed by pain, and fear. With no clue how to start my working day, I clicked around nervously, trying to look busy. Around lunchtime, I noticed my manager entering a meeting room, laptop in hand. I figured that she had another meeting, and swiftly checked through our online schedule assistant that she was indeed occupied for the following hour or so. Without further thought, I shut down my laptop, and made my way over to Briana.
“Hey, I think you had a point this morning.” I began, feeling uncomfortable by admitting it.
I aimed for a quick chat, keeping my eyes towards the meeting room door, anxious that my manager might come out any second. “I don’t really feel so well. Maybe I just need a day or so.” “I’m sorry to hear that. Are you going to stay here for a while longer or head home?” Briana was compassionate. I liked that about her. “I think I’m going home and get some rest. I’m sure I’ll be better tomorrow.” I tried to smile and wink, though unsure if she bought into it.
“Do you want me to pick you up again tomorrow morning? Same time?”, she asked.
‘No’, I was thinking straight away. ‘I don’t want to come to this place ever again. Besides, how would I feel tomorrow? I couldn’t promise her anything…’ Despite my internal resistance, I found myself saying, “Yeah, sounds great. See you then.” Just then, I noticed my manager opening the door, so I abruptly grabbed my bag, turned around and rushed out of the office.
Relieved, the moment I arrived home, I entered, and left the front door unlocked. I had little concern if someone was to intrude, and rob my place. There was hardly anything of value to take. The pain was worse than ever today. The moment I dropped my bag onto the kitchen counter, tears began rolling down my cheeks. Why did it hurt so much? Why was I so weak?
I felt lonelier than ever. I had no one. I was utterly and entirely alone.
Alone with the pain. Alone with the sadness. Every aspect of life felt too much, too overwhelming. Work, faking smiles, even going to the supermarket felt like an impossible task. Being weak and broken as I was, the world was just too much of a challenge for me. My existence felt unbearable. I couldn’t handle it.
The house was only dimly lit, I hadn’t opened the blinds yet, and truth be told, I rarely did. There was enough light filtering through the sides of the windows for me to find my last bottle of wine in the kitchen. Just the thought of needing to get more wine, sent another wave of anxiety coursing through me.
At this point, I simply wanted to drown the constant emotions. I longed to numb the feelings of loneliness and sadness.
Opening the bottle, I poured myself a generous glass of wine. With both bottle and glass in hand, I moved to the living area, crouching down on the floor in front of the couch. I drew my knees up to my body and took a large sip.
After a short while, I could feel the alcohol beginning to take effect, yet the pain persisted, unbearably present. I remembered having painkillers stored in the bathroom cabinet, and made my way to get them. Rifling through the cabinet, I also found containers of antidepressants and anti-anxiety medication.
I grabbed everything, and washed down two of each pill with another generous sip of wine, hoping that this mixture would finally ease both the emotions and the chaos in my mind.
It didn't take long before I began to feel a slight buzz, accompanied by drowsiness. While still feeling pain, I decided to take more pills. Suddenly, a scary thought crossed my mind. ‘What if I won’t wake up tomorrow?’ I thought about this for a moment, but all that came to mind was, ‘Poor Briana, she might think I’ve ditched her.’
Thinking of her situation, I felt the urge to send her a text, letting her know I wouldn’t be in tomorrow, but I couldn’t find my phone, and I certainly couldn’t recall where I placed it. Feeling confused, drowsy, and a bit tipsy, I pulled a piece of paper and a pen from the chest drawers in the living room.
While drinking more wine, and occasionally washing down more pills, I started writing.
“Briana,
You’re a sweet and nice girl. I wish we had met at a different time in my life. I won’t be coming to work today. Actually, I think I’m gonna quit. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t be fixed. The damage within me is not fixable. It’s too late, the pain is eating me alive. Please know, I haven’t ditched you, I just can’t do it anymore. I hope that someday, we’ll see each other again.
Maia”
I intended to leave the note in front of my door so that she could see it when she came to my place. I was certain she would appreciate it. Losing track of time, I considered going to bed; I was so tired. Trying to stand up, my legs felt like rubber. I accidentally knocked over the empty wine bottle. It fell to the ground, dripping wine onto the carpet, and already leaving behind a red stain. I didn’t care.
Grabbing the leftover pills, no longer even thinking about the note, I made my way to the bedroom. I could barely see or feel anything, except for my heart pounding loudly and fast.
Lying in bed, I thought, ‘Just one more pill for a good, deep sleep.’ Trying to pop some of the pills into my hand, I realized that many were falling onto the bed and floor. My hand felt numb, and I couldn’t feel it.
Finally, no feelings. Finally, I was able to escape the prison inside. I wasn’t sure how, but I managed to take more pills. I lost count of how many I had taken, but deep down, I felt that everything was going to be okay.
With no feelings of pain, sadness, or loneliness, I drifted off to sleep, and finally, I found peace.
What are the learnings from Maia’s story?
Although Briana is experiencing depression at a distinct stage, they're undeniably struggling with depression and both of them require assistance to cope with their pain, as well as the emotions of sadness and loneliness. It is crucial to find someone trustworthy who can provide support during this time. This could be a family member, friend, colleague, a health professional, or someone from a support line.
The key lies in communication, where opening up and sharing one's feelings can lead to understanding and healing, even if it feels like an impossible task.
It’s important to understand that numerous individuals suffering from depression go through an overwhelming amount of emotional and physical pain that, for some, becomes unbearable to endure even for another day.
Often, they struggle to identify someone they can trust or confide in regarding their pain and sadness. They believe that others might not fully comprehend their emotions and simultaneously fear the potential challenges associated with seeking support and opening up.
Depression is frequently accompanied by anxieties and as a combined effect, certain individuals might encounter difficulty in engaging in routine activities, such as leaving their homes or performing tasks that others undertake without much contemplation. Empathy is crucial.
When individuals are stonewalling you, there are several steps you can take:
- Create a safe and supportive environment where they feel comfortable opening up.
- Practice active listening without passing judgment, allowing them to express themselves without fear.
- Empathize with their feelings and struggles, showing that you understand and care about their wellbeing
- Validate their feelings and let them know that you respect their right to feel the way they do. Validation can help lower defensiveness
- Use "I" Statements: When discussing issues, use "I" statements to express your own feelings and perspective, rather than making accusatory "you" statements. This can help prevent them from feeling attacked and defensive.
If you or anyone you know is in danger of suicide, please seek help immediately. If there is no one to trust, please find support in any of these helplines.
Lifeline Helpline NZ 0800 543 354 or text 4357 |
Suicide Crisis Helpline NZ 0508 TAUTOKO or 0508 828 865 |
Lifeline Helpline Australia 13 11 14 or text 0477 13 11 14 |