RIP, multi-talented Max...

Dear Max, yesterday evening, bad news reached me via Facebook. I still can't believe it. Why, Max, why did you decide that it has been enough? Enough fighting against the voices in your head. Enough struggling with your everlasting moodswings. Enough coping with your eating disorder... I do try to understand it, but Max, you're such an incredibly intelligent, multi-talented person. You are able to make people smile and to surprise each and everyone time and time again with your guitar play and you're wonderful, warm voice when you sing.  

I do try to cope with your final decision. The dark times before X-mas often seem to be a reason for the deepest feelings of depression and loneliness to flourish for many people. Last year was no exception:  three of our mutual friends committed suicide during this dark period. It was a tough time, I think you still remember. Still, it hurt like hell. And look now, one year later, you took the same step. You took your one-way ticket to heaven. And you chose the short way. You probably couldn't deal with it anymore. I know you suffered. I know you struggled. But I always hoped that you wouldn't give up like Marie-Claire, Daphne and Jan did. One year later, I can still imagine how they looked like when they smiled, when they were up to no good, whey they were behaving against the rules at the clinic  Those were probably the most beautiful moments, by the way ;) And now, I'll have to add other moments to those, YOUR moments, OUR moments... 

Max, I do hope you find the route to happiness. You've fought so hard, and I won't say that you lost this battle... I don't know if this is about winning or losing. Did you give up? I wouldn't say that either. It's hard to put words in a sentence that would honour you. I can only tell you that I'm extremely sad. Your loss leaves a big gap in the lives of your fellow CIB-buddies, including me. Remember you wrote such beautiful and kind words on the placemat for my goodbye gift? I will cherish that placemat above all the other things you provided me with that day. For one thing is sure: two people who wrote a message on that placemat are no longer among us... I know we've lived in a very fragile group with people who have complicated illnesses, and maybe I shouldn't be that surprised that some of the people of that group choose to die. Still, I'll never get used to it, never. 

Dear Max, sweetheart, find peace. Be happy. Look down on us and be our guardian angel. You are and you will be missed severely. You have no idea of the grief I'm experiencing right now. You'll be in my heart... 

Black dog

It's been a while, but the Black Dog inside of me is awake again, after all this time. How is that even possible? Everybody has a Black Dog, even you, my dearest reader, don't you try to deny it! But most of us don't experience their Black Dog, because he might be asleep. And to be honest, the Black Dog inside of me has been asleep for a long, long time. What about this Black Dog? It has a name, oh yes, it has. His name is "depression". And unfortunately it's back again.

I've been feeling alone and worthless again for a couple of weeks now. Some things aren't going too well. And of course, then we have this whole autumn/winter thing. I don't really like it when the days are getting shorter and colder, and when the leaves are falling from the trees, how beautiful the colours of the leaves may seem. It gives me an utterly sad feeling. Everything seems to be dying. And here I am, in my beautiful apartment, but all alone and grieving a little bit. See, one of our family's friends is very ill. And then I'm talking about terminal cancer. The prospects aren't good. It hurts to have to see how life's slipping away out of someone. It's hard to deal with the fact that death always wins, no matter what we try, no matter how many prayers we say. In the end, death wins the game. 

My black dog is getting bigger and stronger every day. I have difficulties to motivate myself to do something. As I wrote, I'm feeling alone and worthless again. Depression is taking over and I'm feeling so sad, nothing seems to please me anymore. I try to divert myself, by listening to music, by watching episodes of Game of Thrones or by dragging myself to my karate lessons, but nothing seems to help to get a better feeling. I do realise it's just the Black Dog, but still, it's tough. Last Friday, I cleaned the house, which I should consider a small miracle. However, I didn't get out of the house until the day after that. I notice that I'm not into leaving the house a lot, and if I do, it doesn't help to defeat the Black Dog. 

What else does the Black Dog do? Well, first of all, it takes away my self-esteem, my self-confidence. I feel so unsure about myself. This doesn't help when I go to my karate lessons. On the contrary, I'm so insecure and I don't want to make mistakes that I even doubt whether to go to the training or not. Cause if I don't go, I can't make any mistakes. If I could, I would lie in bed all day, cause sleeping helps. It means I don't have to think about life and death, I don't have to think about anything anymore. Because of the presence of the Black Dog, I feel empty and lonely. I don't want to get in touch with my friends, because I don't want them to see the person I am when the Black Dog gets loose. It may sound a little awkward, which it actually is. Maybe it's even contradictory. I observe that this is my coping strategy: when I feel sad and depressed, I try to solve it on my own. But then, I always fail, and end up feeling worse. However, I don't want to bother my friends, I want to be in touch with them when I'm all right, that's so much more fun!

There's one thing that has to be clear, though: in this battle between me and my Black Dog, he won't win the game! I will never, ever give up! I'm not that person anymore. In the end, I'll win, no matter how much time it'll take. I'm a fighter, I never give up. The Black Dog will some day be small again. And eventually, he'll go back to sleep. See, the clue is to not let him grow too big, to keep control of him. And yes, maybe he's in control now, but not forever. I keep on going to my karate lessons, with a little help from a friend, that is. I get out of bed every morning, albeit a little late. I see my therapist every week and we discuss the topics that keep me busy. Today he reassured me by telling that the topics we tackle are not even that weird but actually quite normal, that they don't show me my "psychiatric" side but rather that they show that I'm entirely human, and that I'm dealing with very normal, human things in life. Yes, it seems that I'm struggling with topics every teenager/adolescent gets confronted with. I might be experiencing puberty now, something I skipped when I was 16. Could it be? 

To be continued...