I knew I wanted to get better after being in the psychiatric unit at Northridge Hospital in 2009 following my suicide attempt. It was the children’s ward so there was a much lighter (if you can really call any part of a psych unit “light”) feel to it. They had a room with drawings previous patients had drawn, all of course with some corny quote about how your depression won’t last forever and you’re loved and yada yada yada. However, there was one that genuinely resonated within me. “Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.” Many people had told me my depression and anxiety would not last forever but it was so different reading it in that context from someone who may have had experiences similar to my own. That’s when I truly decided to fight this, it’s just temporary, right?

I had decided that I wanted to go to a residential treatment center so I could focus on getting better and solely that. After graduating a year and a half later I was still struggling. I came home back into an environment I had almost forgotten and it was incredibly more difficult to cope with real world situations vs. the treatment situations I had previously faced. I felt like I wasn’t allowed to voice how hard it was for me, and whenever I slipped up I felt ashamed that I had wasted my parents time and money. I was supposed to be cured and I was positive everyone around me felt equally as disappointed.

Since graduating Alpine 6 years ago I have been on 19 different medications, 10 of which were in 2017 alone. I’ve also tried 4 alternative methods to medication(4 have been consistent enough to say they failed, I’ve tried many more inconsistently). Every time something fails, I am reassured that no one is going to give up on me and that we will find something that works.

After my most recent episode my family and I were desperate for answers about why nothing is helping. We sought a millionth opinion from a well-regarded psychiatrist that had been recommended by a family friend. It was after multiple sessions ruling out brain damage and personality disorders that he sat my mom and I down and said he agrees with my diagnosis completely and also with the medications my psychiatrist was prescribing. He would not do anything different, but suggested that I modify my life to be the life I want because I can still achieve that.

My immediate thought was that it was time for me to finally finish what I started and kill myself. That fucking lying bitch from the psych unit was wrong. This was anything but temporary. This was the rest of my life, as permanent as it gets. I know that there is not a cure for mental illness. Medication doesn’t flush it out of your body and let you skip away scratch free, but it certainly helps lighten the load a bit. I will never have that pleasure. I don’t remember the last time I woke up not wishing that I hadn’t, will I ever get to be thankful for a new day? Every day from here on out will be a fight for survival.

It’s been close to a month since that meeting and I am still struggling with the guilt and disappointment I carry from that day. My parents have given me nothing but opportunities and love but here I am, broken and lost as ever.

It wasn’t until recently that I had felt somewhat at peace with the idea of forever. I have been feeling far from my best lately and I hesitantly brought it up to my mom who replied “wow. You’ve really regressed.” Cue the guilt for not being  cured, but it also made me kind of mad. Just because I’m feeling bad does not mean I have backtracked in my recovery. I understand that the ideal situation would be to not think about suicide at all but I am able to have those thoughts multiple times a day and recognize that that is not the answer and to never act upon those thoughts. True regression would be clear as day. A casket or laced up my arms. I can’t blame her, or anyone, for not understanding what it means to be treatment resistant. I myself am not fully aware of what it really means.

I will always have depression, and I may never find a medication or therapeutic method to make it less heavy. However, with experiences like Alpine, the current outpatient group I’ve been going to, therapy, and support I will be able to gain more insight on why and what is happening within my body. I will be able to understand the things that make me thrive as a person and have meaning, and shape my life around them. I guess I’ll have to be my own medication. Sounds like progress to me. More importantly, it feels like it.