Light at the End of a Very Dark Tunnel

Light at the End of a Very Dark Tunnel

I was diagnosed with depression after the loss of my child. Death leaves one hanging by a thread, unsure of what to do. I remember holding her lifeless body and feeling a part of my soul die with every passing minute.

27 Jul, 2022

I was diagnosed with depression after the loss of my child. Death leaves one hanging by a thread, unsure of what to do. I remember holding her lifeless body and feeling a part of my soul die with every passing minute. No one talks about how disorienting it is to lose a child. Not only did I lose a child, I lost my only child. It felt like the world came crashing on my head. I was stuck in my mind for months. I really can't remember most of what happened, I was stuck in my head replaying memories of my angel. One minutes I was holding my daughter's lifeless body and the other minute I woke up to the sound of machines beeping in a hospital, I tried to take my life. At that point I wished I had been successful, the pain would have been as silent as my heart. But I wasn't and I was diagnosed with depression. I went through months of medications (there were days I took them and days I didn't) and therapy(I missed a lot of sessions) before I felt a bit close to my former life. I was no longer on suicide watch.

I attempted suicide for the second time the same year I lost my daughter, it was an evening filled with alcohol and shame. I couldn't quiet the voices in my head—they blamed me for the death of my daughter. I felt like a bad mother, I prayed—even though I am not religious, I prayed for God to bring back my daughter. I just wanted to spend five minutes with her, to smell the mentholated shampoo I used on her hair that very morning. To hug her and beg for her forgiveness for not saving her. I just wanted five minutes with her. I decided I couldn't live with the guilt anymore and took a kitchen knife to cut myself. I bled out and lost consciousness and woke in a hospital. I remember screaming for them to let me go and stop bringing me back, that living was painful. When I was discharged, I was on suicide watch 24/7, I always had someone with me. My mum came visiting one day and begged me to live, that her heart can't handle the loss of me. She begged me to take therapy seriously and I remember promising that I'd try. I put in the work after that day, went for my sessions and used my medications. I got better, there are still days I mourn, but I know how to silence the voices now. Depression eats your soul bit by bit until you are gone. Don't wait until then to seek help.