Guilt & Purpose

If you read my other post you will see that I suffer from depression. I also have general anxiety over everything a
& some social anxiety. There is also a peppering of other little issues. Over the years I have learned to cope or to hide these problems.

This isn’t really meant to tell you about all of those pieces of myself. This is meant to tell you how I am still alive. For over 16yrs I have lived with mental illness. It has pulled me down so many times & it is not always easy to pull myself back up.

I was maybe 15 or 16 when I first decided I was going to kill myself. I wanted to die but I didn’t want to die. I wanted someone to save me. To hold me & tell me that it would be ok. That they loved me. That they would take care of me.

I didn’t even get to take the pills. My brother pound on the bathroom door asking what I was doing. Guilt. I felt guilty because I was doing this to him.

Then he called my parents, they were out for an anniversary dinner. They came home. However, instead of doing the things I needed they told me I ruined their night. I was made to feel guilty for needing help. Then it wasn’t mentioned again. No one helped me, no one held me, no one told me they needed me. Everyone was to focused on themselves to see me.

Years passed until I finally got help on my own. They weren’t always easy but I survived.

Depression lies to you. It tells you you’re not good enough, no one wants you, you’re worthless, & all these other nasty things. Most of which aren’t true.

I never killed myself because of guilt. I didn’t want someone else to find my body, what if it was messy, what about the cost to take care of my mess, & all of these other things.

There is also purpose. I like the idea that people are connected. It is appealing to think about how our life changes or molds another person’s life.

We don’t have to do big grand deeds to effect other people. It could be as simple as giving someone a cup of coffee.

Because you gave a homeless person a cup of coffee & a bagel he/she was able to save the little money they managed to get. They save enough money to get a room for a night, a week, a month. They are warm, they are safe, they feel better. Maybe it leads further & they get a job. All from a cup of coffee & a bagel.

I am a pediatric home health aide. I help family’s care for their children with special needs. Intellectual or physical disabilities, I am there for anything.

I have a regular M-F client & a few who I help occasionally. However, it’s my M-F that gives me purpose. My company is short staffed almost all the time. So if I am not here, there is most likely no replacement. I love my client. He is like a brother & a best friend.

Because of me my client can go to college without his mother. His mother can do things at home, or out. She can take her other son to school, or appts, or to activities. I directly help one person, but he isn’t the only one who benefits.

I live not because I always want to be alive, but because I don’t want other people to suffer how I do. I want other people to feel happiness even when I can’t. I know what it feels like to feel like you are drowning. I know what it feels like to be alone with no one to hold you or help you.

So I think of the people I am with & how I help, change, or mold them, then I think of the people they are with, & I think of it expanding out. I think of the things I want to do, the people I want to help & the people who will be helped by who I helped.

Depression has lied to me. It will lie to me again. But I won’t believe it anymore. I will tell myself that I am changing someone’s life. I am making their life better.

The things we do shape those around us. Good or bad. Big or small.

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