Why suicide is the answer

This is a post, separate of the B&H podcast. The views here and mine (Bat) and mine alone.

I sit here, in one of my favorite places in Phoenix, tears streaming down my face, trying to put my thoughts into words. I'm supposed to meet Hammer to watch Dunkirk for the podcast, but I won't make that show. He doesn't know yet, and will find out when I don't show up. He'll forgive me in time. He's a much better man than I, and a better friend than deserve.

I wanted to write the post, as it's something extremely personal to me. My daily fight with depression. I'm not referring to the internet "I haz a sad" depression,  I mean clinical depression.

It's something I've had to battle my entire life. I of course have good days and bad days, but I'm currently in a very bad swing.

Maybe writing this out, my head will stop battling me. Maybe it won't. Maybe, I'll finally win this war, odds are I won't.

Now, before this gets any deeper, know that I am not considering self harm. Hell, that's what started this post.

But, let me explain how I got stuck in this slope, and why I joke about suicide.

You see, I knew this pit was coming. When you've felt with depression for a long time, you know its signs.

I try to make friends everywhere I go, with as many different people, from as many different backgrounds as I can.  When professionals give the advice of talk to someone, that's true. I do that, and make rude, tasteless jokes  (more on that to come)

Anyway, like I said, I try to make friends everywhere, that way, when I know I'm having an attack, I have different people to help based on what set my brain off.

For the fourth of July this year, one of my friends (I thought) wanted to have a get together. We planned everything out and decided since I have a more central location, me hosting would be the best idea. I skipped a vacation concert to hang with some of my best friends. It didn't really bother me, because I love these people.  Flash forward to the bbq, and co-host never showed, and worse yet, never let me know he wasn't going to show. Now, having something like this happen will throw me into the brink of collapse. I knew I would be sad, abandoned and angry, but I would get past it. However my brain took this time to start casing the neighborhood. As fortune would have it, the following two and a half weeks would be a plethora of little things that would enable my brain to claim the victory it had been desperately trying to achieve. As anybody who's depressed will tell you, it's usually the little things that snowball and complete the depression job. The final piece was after Chester Bennington died, I made a joke on Facebook, and of course was attacked for it. Now, remember when I said I make tasteless jokes to deal with my depression? I knew the joke was tasteless, but I made it anyway. My suicide jokes are my way of keeping my demons at bay. At taking power, over a powerless situation. Perhaps this time, my brain knew I would be attacked, and wanted me to see visual proof of how worthless I am.

Also, I know this post is all over the place. I'm just typing as my fingers permit, so bear with me.

I have ignored people all day, including my wife. Oh my wife. My sweet, sweet loving wife.

At the time of writing this, I have 47 notifications on Facebook, 38 unread text messages, 7 missed phone calls and 4 voice mails. I know the vast majority of this is her doing. Many of these are from people I do not talk to on a regular basis. She is my lighthouse, and without her I am lost. I'm sorry you have to put up with this bullshit from me baby. I've tried to get a handle on it, and I need you more than anything in this world.

I'm not one for trigger warnings, but I do have one. It's not for me however, it's for Sarah, so she knows when I'm battling. I will repeat "The End" by Blue October. This time there was no trigger. I'm so sorry I've failed you baby.

Depression hits everyone differently and there is no "cure". For some, prescriptions work. For me, they just turned my brain to mush. I was in a constant fog.

For some, working out works. This is part of my regiment,  but it's not enough sadly.

Football used to be my cure, but with age that is no longer an option.

The one thing that helps me is my wit. Thus, the need for me to make horrible jokes. To find horrible memes. To take the power back from my shitty ass brain that hates me. I know it's inappropriate, mean and wrong. The majority of my friends know that it's an attack on suicide, not the person. I NEED to take control, humor about a shitty situation is my way.

I will get past this. I have an amazing wife who is my world. I will not let this disease destroy the greatest love in the world. I have an incredible daughter, of whom I will shield any damage, including my own. I thought I had amazing friends, and had built an unbreakable support structure. Now I'm not so sure. But again, that's my brain trying to win this battle. And while it may have won the fight, it's not going to win the war.

After I post this, I expect my phone to blow up (it is a Samsung after all). I know the people that were there during my suicide attempts will reach out. I know when I get home my wife will crawl into my lab, hold me and cry. I know I'll receive friendly and not so friendly comments on this post.

Cast your stones at me. I can take it 

If you are battling with depression, find your coping mechanism. If you need me, please reach out. I understand your battle more than you know.

Bat