This past week my mom had a minor surgery. I sat in the waiting room with her and my dad and was by her bedside when she woke up. I know it wasn’t a “BIG” thing, but I worried because she would be under anesthesia and that can always be dangerous. After the surgery on her hand, we spent a few days together – wee watched movies, I bought her ice coffees. It was nice, even if she was in pain. I think what helped her most was just having me around. My existence.
Sometimes it is hard to see that our mere existence in this world is a bright light shining. We feel like shit during depression: Unlovable, alienated, unworthy. That is not the truth. We are here on this planet for a purpose, and I believe, more than likely, it is to somehow help others.
I know a lot about existing. I have tried to kill myself 4 times. Leave behind a family. Leave behind friends. Leave behind my dog. That is a pretty crappy thing to do, don’t you think – hurting everyone like that? In the moment, you see it as a viable option, a way out. But once (and if) you survive, you will see life in a whole new way. After the guilt and the amends, will come purpose. You don’t have to know what it is right away. Your partner, or new best friend, or better relationship with your cousin – it need not be earth shattering, but there is a reason for your existence. Stay here.
Martin, E. (2017). Existing. Psych Central. Retrieved on February 21, 2018, from https://blogs.psychcentral.com/being-bipolar/2017/08/09/existing/